Is it a sign of old age to become sickeningly lazy? I mean, look at me. I've got all these great stories, but rather than sit down and edit them properly and weave an enchanting narrative that gently strings them together into a humorously self-deprecating yet deeply moving saga, I'm taking the easy way out. Straight from the journal. Again! Geez, I disgust me.
14 December 2009 - on the way to Swakopmund, Namibia
It's refreshing having your own wheels. Detour where you like, blast your own ipod, put your feet up on the dash, kick back, and stretch out.
21 December 2009 - Etosha National Park, Namibia
Apparently, when driving in the reserve, you're meant to remain in your vehicle at all times, as there's always lions about, seen or unseen, and chance encounters with wild cats don't usually turn out so well for humans.
Of course then, during our game drive, when an unusual screeching noise begins wafting up from the port bow, we cheerfully hop out of the car to investigate. I end up having to jack up the car and pop the wheel off, as the others stand guard with watchful eyes. Not that you'd be able to see a lion coming anyway, (it'd pretty much be like, "Hey, what was that nois-AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGHHHH MY SPLEEN!") but it gives us a nice comfy false sense of security, and we snuggle right up. After getting the wheel off, I dislodge a pebble that was grinding the brake disc, and sweat a bit more as I reassemble everything. So, after some exposed roadside repairs, no mauling or dismemberment. Sweet!
22 December 2009 - near Rundu, Namibia
Peacocks are wandering through our campsite.
[ed. We never get to find out what roast peacock tastes like. Horrible, I hope.]
23 December 2009 - Caprivi Strip, outside Popa Falls, Namibia
They have these thorn trees here in Africa. Full, tall trees, with nothing but huge, gracefully slender, terribly vicious thorns as long as a finger and as sharp as a needle. What the heck's the point of that?!?
[ed. I was digging those blasted thorns out of my hand for *days*.]
25 December 2009 - somewhere in the Caprivi Strip
After dark, I'm headed to a friend's camp (now equipped with proper light and an appropriate conscientiousness about where I step), when I see three guys we're traveling with, three grown men, ahead on the path. They jolt to a stop, a momentary confusion, and suddenly start fleeing towards me with distinctive hints of panic mixed with stupid glee. As they near, they slow, out of breath, and crowd in next to me like children, pointing and giggling and whispering. There's a frickin' hippo up ahead. We debate silently about what to do before we tiptoe back to the spot (I mean, obviously we have to go back and check out the giant dangerous wild animal. We'd never forgive ourselves if we didn't). We shine our lights into the darkness. They whisper in awed tones about how huge it is. I still don't see it. I don't see anything. All I see is black, nondescript night. I say so. "You don't see it because it's so big," my mate whispers. I pull my frame of reference back, and I realize that what I thought was "just more night" is actually the bloody thing's massive torso. Not ten feet in front of my nose is a two ton hippo, pretty much engulfing my entire field of vision. This is an animal the size of a Volkswagen. <aside> Hippos are notoriously aggressive and kill more people in Africa than any other mammal. </aside> About one and a half breaths after my eyes focus on the enormous beast, it starts moving and rustling, and I'll tell you what, I was back down that path and out of there before you could blink. And we'll try to pretend that at no time did I scream like a little girl. Merry Christmas.
3 January 2010 - outside Grootfontein, Namibia
The clouds threaten us all day, and the further we drive, the more distinct the storms ahead and around become. With the help of the broad African sky, at one point I count five separate storms in the surrounding skies. We manage, however, to avoid most of the rain all day. Until, of course, we turn off the main road, and the angry, menacing clouds finally have their way with us. The rain comes down in sheets on the mud road. We watch the car ahead slide from side to side in the muck as we too wiggle our rear end. In certain places, the uphill road has just given up and become a river. We arrive in good spirits, as only playing in the mud can bring, and on cue, the moment we find shelter, the storm passes. Our cars, which used to have colors, are now all just brown.
We have a bed for the night and hot showers, welcome luxuries after so many days of being out in the bush. The electric lights seem [ironically] unnaturally bright, and our group unconsciously lingers more outside than in. Perhaps the cool night is more familiar to us still; we haven't adjusted yet.
9 January 2010 - Soussusvlei, Namibia
It's just two of us now. We race the sunrise as we head into the heart of the dune sea. The looming black shapes in the pre-dawn darkness slowly resolve into massive dunes the color of rust.
We pick the tallest dune to climb, and afterwards, breathlessly rest at the top, the strong desert wind drying our sweat. We run, jump, and laugh our way down the back side into Dead Vlei, a graveyard of trees.
I see mirages out in the desert.
-----
Bonus episode:
20 March 2010 - really really early in the morning, the bus stop in Mulegé, Mexico
Leroy: "Look, a poo piñata."
Me: "A what?"
Leroy: "A Winnie the Pooh piñata."
Me: "Oh. Uh, right. Of course."
