A Year in Africa

After one year in Africa (okay, okay, 11 months) we flew to Istanbul to do a short Eurotrip.  There are many ways one could wax poetic about their time crossing the continent.  If you are looking for that, just find a book with Africa on the title and a white person pictured on the cover.  Still, I have had an incredible opportunity to see, experience, and jump off of a number of things.  One thing this blog doesn't capture how much help we got along the way: from my family, Eva's family, friends, shopkeepers, mototaxi drivers, minibus drivers, hotel staff, park rangers, fruit stall ladies, fellow teachers, racist Afrikaaners (they helped us, but not much else), exchange students, NGO workers, Malawian border post officials, Swazi wine enthusiasts, Drakensberg tour guides, a family of strong Zulu women, and sometime strangers on the street.  We had to pay a few bribes, someone tried to drive off with my bag, I know I gave a guy in Nairobi 10 dollars for nothing, and ironically the meanest people ever were to us was technically in France, but overall, everyday, people took us in, treated us well, and made us feel welcome.  Africa is special, because in everyway, life struggles to survive.  Thank you to everyone who made it an absolutely photogenic year.