So, a year ago I received a phone call from my dad, and the reason for his call was basically this (I'm paraphrasing, of course). He says to me, "Hey! Mary and I are planning a trip to Africa and we were wondering if you'd like to go with us. Well? Wanna go?" Of course I gave it some serious thought for all of about 30 seconds and replied with a hearty YES.
And so began the planning process. Having never left the U.S., with the exception of a few drives down into Mexico for a handful of possibly unsavory reasons, I needed a passport and a barrage of vaccinations. Of course the passport was painless, a few forms, a few photos and a chunk of money later I received my first passport in the mail. The handlebar mustache I had at the time really tied the thing together. The shots were not as painless, though not horrible. There were enough needles however, to warrant switching to the other arm after a couple jabs. I asked if there was a vaccination against bazooka fire or at very least, bullets in the event a random pirate attack should occur. The travel nurse was not amused.
Packing made me anxious- especially packing for a place I've never visited. The key to this was pack light, and make sure everything dries quickly. I won't pretend I didn't fret for quite a while over what to have/not have, but it occurred to me that I could go equipped with my passport, a good pair of walking shoes, my camera and a spare change of skivvies (optional) and I'd be okay, because you know what? I'M GOING TO AFRICA. Once I settled with that, it was easy.
...and there it is- ready to go to Africa. Of course my cat knows what happens when I start putting my things into bags... he was not pleased. Augusto, or "The Goose" went through my stuff anyway just to make sure I didn't forget anything. Apparently I forgot the cat hair, so he helped me out in that department.
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