Almost Done

Over the past two and a half weeks, I've spent days (literally) with the photographic memories of my trip.

I've downloaded all of them to my computer, deleted duplicates, deleted blurry or boring or tilted shots, and classified them into categories from A to Z: airports, birds, camps and Chobe, downtown Cape Town to Twyfelfontein, warthogs, wildebeest, zebras, and Zambia.

The next step was separating the good from the mediocre. Topic by topic, location by location, theme by theme, I uploaded them for my memory book. Occasionally I dipped into the mediocre pictures to tell the right story, and I requested permission to use a few pictures from other people.

I decided which photos could stand alone and which ones would make good collages. I cropped and labeled and wrote descriptions. I spent hours researching bird and antelope names that I could no longer remember. I made the font sizes consistent throughout the book and double-checked my spelling.

The whole exercise has been a great way to relive the trip. I miss the daily variety, the sights and the people, having time to read every day, the hot weather, hiking, and exercising my photographic skills. It has also lent some structure to a month's worth of jumbled memories. Almost as important, it's given me an answer to "How was Africa?"

But now the book is almost complete, the emails with the group are slowing down, and work is picking up. I'm left trying to figure out how to keep the trip alive just a little longer.

I'm Back!

Back after a month of traveling, pitching tents, wearing short sleeves, being surrounded by people 24x7. Back after a month without high heels, the gremlin, or driving. Back after a month of wearing shoes to the shower and carrying toilet paper and a trowel everywhere I go.

I've come home to cold weather and financial cut-backs at work. More importantly, I've come home to a city hopeful about the next four years, to friends and family, and to fast internet connections. It's good to be home.

The Best New Year's Eve Ever

New Year's Eve carries a lot of pressure and fuss. You need the perfect dress, with comfortable but sexy shoes. You need a "good" party to attend. You need the perfect date to kiss at midnight. It needs to be the New Year's Eve to top all New Year's Eves.

I hate it.

This year was different. I wore sandals and dirty clothes that may have smelled a little as my "clean" (clean being a relative term) clothes dried on a line strung between tents. In place of glitzy cocktails in the early part of the evening, I drank wine from a tin cup, served impeccably by a Frenchman who clearly took great pride in serving wine. I had 9 dates, 8 of whom had morphed from strangers into friends over the course of the past 10 days. We expressed awe over the lion, the rhino, and the parade of elephants we'd seen earlier that day.

In place of Dick Clark (no, Ryan Seacrest now, right?), we watched the waterhole. First a mother and child rhinoceros, then three skittish giraffes who took turns carefully maneuvering into a drinking position (rather like a girl trying not to splash her clothes in the wilderness - too much information?). The giraffes left shortly before midnight, and we headed back to our campsite, toasting each other along the way.

How will I top this next year?

Christmas in Namibia

Christmas Day challenged my traditional notions of Christmas. No evergreen tree with lights, no family, not even a hint of chill in the hot Namibian summer.

Instead, I spent sunrise at the top of a sand dune with other tourists wearing Santa hats and ate breakfast in a parking lot. I received Christmas gifts from a good friend, wrapped in a brown paper bag. Along with the rest of the tour members, I received a clip-on koala from a new friend. Over the next few days, those koalas ended up on shirts, backpacks, noses, and our tour vehicle's windshield wipers.

We decorated our tents with balloons inked with Christmas trees and warm messages. In place of a Christmas tree and ornaments, we saw trees festooned with weaver bird nests. Windblown red desert sand covered everything instead of a sprinkling of snow.

I hiked through the desert drinking lukewarm water instead of my grandfather's lethal Christmas punch. I shook fistfuls of sand from my hiking boots instead of wearing big fuzzy slippers. I listened to Christmas carols from a pocket-sized music box instead of singing in church just before midnight. Our Christmas dinner was cooked over a camp stove, and new friends bonded over boxed wine with stories of their traditions at home.

It was a very different Christmas, but it was good.

More Info Available

I decided to try out a new blog site for my current trip; the site has maps and some other travel-specific features. Internet access is patchy here, but if you're interested in seeing what I write when I'm able, go to http://www.travelpod.com/members/ceedubbva.