So here we are, 6 days until I once more fly to South Africa and 54 days till I fly back. If I come back. It would appear that popular consensus involves me not returning, the reasons why are quite widespread and range from being kidnapped, to marrying a millionaire and even faking my own death so that I can stay in the bush and live with the Gorillas or a pygmy king – the creator of that story has yet to decide on an ending.
I am essentially ready to leave, although I am yet to pack. It is truly bizarre, I excitedly wanted to pack months and months ago and now the time is looming I can’t be bothered to do it. This will end in the inevitable last minute packing that I do so well… resulting in me having to buy an exceptionally expensive toothbrush at the airport.
I think this reluctance to pack is based upon the fact that I still have planning left to do. I have my anti-malarials, I have had my Hep A booster (meaning I don’t have to worry about it for 20 years) I am in the process of completing my cholera vaccination (don’t let the intially sweet taste lull you into a false sense of security – this makes the polio one taste nice!) and so have another nice cholera bascilli drink to look forward to the day before I leave – nummy num num!
I do not however at current have a transfer flight to the airport for my return flight, I do not have my flight in the middle of my journey planned and I have not yet sorted out my Rand. But I am sure it will all be alright on the night, after all it does not matter how carefully you plan things in Africa – plans change.
Africa always wins.