NO SAFARI HERE.

This is no National Geographic Africa. There are no Lions chasing wildabeasts. I would search back in my childhood to find description, to those books that start off with "in a land far-far away..." On my way to school in the morning I pass men wrapped in heavy wool blankets perched atop a donkey on their way to the dusty fields. The land is harsh and rocky, with tall aloe plants dotting the landscape. I woke up to a dusting of snow and the condensation on my tin roof dripping onto my sleepy face. Whoa, wake-up call. My Sesotho (the language) is improving with baby steps. I stumble over the clicks and feel generally incompetant most of the time, but we're getting there. My hands are freezing as I'm typing, so I'll sign out for now.

DESTINATION STATION

Lumela! (Pronounced doo-may-la) After a rousing few days in Washington D.C. (the highlight of which were unexpected friends met at a Chinese Food hole in the wall around midnight), I've arrived. The trip was a mish-mash of late flights, lost baggage, and missed planes. The travel culminated in 20 freezing Americans crossing the Lesotho border at 3 am. The best part was that there is a 300 meter strip of "No man's land" on the Lesotho/ South Africa border that must be crossed by foot (or so they tell us). I am willing to bet there were some border guards slapping their thighs as the travel weary foreigners shuffled over the border shaking in the 30 degree weather. I would comment on the incredible sights and sounds but I've been hulled up at a Peace Corps training site doing my best to learn Sesotho, the local language. All my sources and senses say that "the shoe fits." Everyday I'm closer to my village and a pony friend (I'm keeping my fingers crossed).

Travels With Charley?... no Kjessie

Outside an ambitious robin is tracking down a late breakfast and I am soaking up my remaining moments in the approaching Sierra summer sun. I have been saying my farewells to coastal friends and reassuring my family as I read up on the unique mountain kingdom which shall be called home for the next two years.
John Steinbeck is always a good author to have as a companion as one starts on a journey and I find myself drawn back to his book Travels With Charley. He is a kindred vagabond spirit.

"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this, although only those who have experienced it will understand it."----John Steinbeck

Well alright, Mr. Steinbeck, we shall journey on, preparing above all the ability to be flexible.