T.I.A: This is Africa

Dear Walt,
You lied to me. You told me Africa was about talking lions and wise baboons. Did you know Pride Rock doesn't exist? And I haven't seen a single herd throw a baby lion up like a cheerleader. Your childish Disney movies have congested my mind with falsities and it's going to take me a while to get over it.

For 11 weeks I was waiting for the Africa Moment that Disney had promised me. I thought that's what I needed for this trip to no longer feel surreal - to no longer have to remind myself how far I'd traveled. I'd look at a map and trace my journey from San Sebastian to Madrid to Zurich to Nairobi to illustrate how I'd ended up there, but for some reason it wouldn't sink in. The moment I was waiting for was straight out of The Lion King, and I couldn't help but wonder where all the talking baboons and singing giraffes had gone. I was so distracted by cartoon images that I was oblivious to the clues that surrounded me everyday - the "T.I.A. moments", as they are known in traveling circles, that defy all logic and common sense; moments which leave you speechless with confusion, and give you no other option than to say "T.I.A! This is Africa!" and move on with your life. I learned this phrase on my last night in Zanzibar - my last night in Africa. I was out for a drink with some friends at a beach front bar that used the Tusker beer label as their own. Without consulting the menu, half the table ordered the Kenyan beer, only to be shut down by a server who didn't see the irony in them not having the only beer they advertised. We stared at each other blankly for a moment, when someone broke the silence by shouting "T.I.A!" When I asked him what that meant, he explained that saying this is all you can do when things go wrong, and those who forget this crucial phrase risk dying of a mental breakdown. Woah, I thought. I wish I'd known this earlier. I have been putting my well-being at serious risk. And at that point, every T.I.A. moment I had in Africa flashed before my eyes - fictional menus and 3 hour waits, 12 hour bus rides over crater-sized potholes, seat-less toilets and waterless taps. The T.I.A. moments where it's better to laugh than to get upset, and remind yourself that it's all part of the experience. For almost 3 months I had been living through one extended T.I.A. moment and I was too concerned with cartoon characters to realize it. An epiphany if there ever was one! Don't worry, though, I found my Disney Moment. It was while driving through Lake Manyara's red dirt roads, spying on giraffes, zebras, baboons, elephants and buffalo through the open roof of a safari jeep, singing songs from Disney soundtracks. More Jungle Book than Lion King, but exactly what I had been waiting for.

How can I sum up the last 3 months? Challenging, inspiring, frustrating, a growing experience, not to mention an ego booster every time someone commended my bravery/lunacy for traveling Africa alone. Obviously no one told them I slept with the lights on and my valuables under my bed. But just as it's important to appreciate the experiences I've had in Africa - the inspiring, the frustrating and the perplexing - it's also important to know when to leave. As Peter Moore said in the most influential book of my travels, No Shitting in the Toilet: The Travel Guide for When You've Really Lost It, a good sign that it's time to leave is "when you start getting abusive and hostile towards the symbols of everyday aggravation while traveling - the hawkers, street touts..." Well... I've been hostile since Rwanda, so my return was long overdue! With my dad in London on the 19th and Jessie in San Sebastian for her birthday only 2 days later, I decided it was time for my African adventure to come to a close. When I surprised Jessie at the Urban House Hostel in San Sebastian a day before her 20th birthday, our 5 minute tear-filled embrace told me I had made the right decision. So long Africa.