I can’t stop thinking about Africa. The sights, the light, the sense of adventure that is sadly lacking in my day to day life. I think about the wind-blown coastline of the Cape Peninsula, the blue waters of Camps Bay, the nail-biting switchbacks on the mountain pass outside of Franschhoek. And the animals who greeted me so generously, showing a peace and grace with nothing more on their minds than survival and rest.

There were no suitable pictures to capture the full beauty of this coastline.

It was a trip that I fear will never leave my system. Like a silent addiction that keeps pulling me in just when I feel I am free of it, Africa is a travel destination unto itself. I only saw a small fraction of its beauty, in the most pedestrian and tourist of ways, and I am still enchanted. I am determined to explore further, to leave the comfort I may desire, and to venture out – away from the fine cities and sparkling lights. To the rural red dirt roads, to the people who do not know my language but who will understand my smile.

The dashing and exotic Kudu.

In the same way that my first trip presented itself, I believe I will know the right time to return to that continent. To a new country, a different horizon, a hotter temperature. Oh, the stories I will tell.