Author’s note: This post is part of a series on my recent trip and climb of Mount Kilimanjaro, to read all posts click here.
I began my long journey to Africa on a special day – July 8th, 2015 – my 15-year wedding anniversary. No wise wife purposely chooses to plan a two-week trip sans kids and husband on their wedding anniversary. But I had no choice. It would take me almost 24 hours to get to Tanzania and I needed to arrive in time to get over jet lag and prepare for the big climb of Mount Kilimanjaro.
Tearfully I said goodbye to my children and husband, feeling that bittersweet emotion mixed between excitement and guilt that I always feel when leaving my family to fly half way around the world. No matter how many times I’ve done it, it never is easy and I’m always a nervous, anxiety-ridden wreck before I leave on a big trip. Perhaps it is the micro-manager in me that always feels a sense of deep anxiety with leaving my organized, scheduled family life behind. Yet my bags were packed albeit five minutes before the taxi showed up outside my door, the meals were prepared and awaiting frozen inside the depths of the freezer and the endless pages of typed out notes with schedules, idiosyncrasies and miscellaneous tidbits on the daily care of the kids were left out in two copies for each one of my babysitters. I took deep breath, let out a sigh of relief and boarded the plane. A glass of wine was in order followed by another one as I settled into my seat.
There is something grand about traveling overseas, across continents and oceans. A deep, grateful wisp of anticipation, excitement and adventure always sets deep within my veins. Fortunately I have traveled all of my life and instead of diminishing, my love of wanderlust never seems to fade. Instead, it grows stronger like a huge oak tree firmly rooted into the ground and expanding upon each bit of sunlight and drop of rain.
Sunset over Africa
Every time I get in the air, I turn on the flight tracker and watch in amazement the places we pass, soaring through the sky to the next adventure. This time it would be Tanzania, not a new continent for me but a new place. The first stop was in Amsterdam where I would had a couple of hours layover before boarding my next nine-hour flight directly to Kilimanjaro International Airport, located about an hour’s drive from Moshi where I’d be staying for the next couple of days.