After filling our boots at the Billabong factory outlet shop in Jeffreys Bay, we drove to Port Elizabeth airport and hopped-on a short flight back to Cape Town to spend our last night in South Africa. Tomorrow we head north-east into a different country and continent — the United Arab Emirates in the Middle-East, Asia.

We’ve both really enjoyed our three and a half months travelling through Southern Africa from Tanzania to South Africa, via Malawi, Zambia, Botswana and Namibia. (We also stepped foot on Zimbabwean soil, but quickly retreated once we saw the bungy jump…) Last week, Squiffy wrote-up her thoughts on backpacking southern Africa, so today I thought that I’d add mine. Out of all the wonderful–yet often curious–experiences that we’ve shared with you on our blog over the last few months there are a few memories that shall stay with me for life:

Learning to dive in the tropical waters that surround Zanzibar with one of the world’s most beautiful men. Having said that, I could have done without the associated ear infection, thank you very much.

My first wildlife safari being blessed from start to end: Our driver/guide was genuinely enthusiastic and the wildlife came out to play every day. This part of the world is indescribably beautiful. So beautiful in fact are the sights, sounds and smell of the ‘the Wild’ that, on more than one occasion, it brought a tear to my eye.

The long, uncomfortable but always eventful bus journeys. In particular, the pre-journey prayers in which the passengers asked for God’s protection to navigate us safely through the dusty villages and mountain passes. Adhering to speed limits and rotating drivers on long journeys wasn’t even considered as a way to improve safety. No need: we said prayers instead…

Flying over Victoria Falls in an aircraft with no fuselage. Driving through the Namibian desert and sleeping on the roof of our car. Dangling off a bit of silk at Table Mountain. The jaw-dropping vistas of the Cape Peninsula. The visibility for miles on end. The blood-red sunsets.

The cheap, dirty hotels in which we got even less than we paid for. Local standards can be really low. The five dollar tent.

The infuriatingly unreliable communications and lacking infrastructure coupled with “Africa Time” and “Africa Logic”. The often hilarious scenarios in which we found ourselves and their valuable insights into the differences between our cultures. The lack of respect for property, the battered cars held together by bits of string.

The touts, pushy vendors, tricksters and anyone else that hollered ‘Mzungu‘ after us. The red-tape, the can’t dos. The ‘hurry up and wait’ mindset of the bureaucrats and government workers. We’ve still not made sense of our night at Mdokera’s Beach Campsite in Chitimba. (For those of you who missed this treat here are the links: Introduction; Dance Festival; Bed in a Tree; The Great Escape; Lost Property; The Great Escape, Again.)

The African people. The polite greeting, “Hello. How are you?”, the essential precursor to asking anything, anywhere. The only response ever received rote-learned, “I’m fine, how are you?”. The constant change and peoples’ acceptance of this change, both bad and good, is part of everyday life here. Their utter happiness in the little that they have has taught me a lot about my own culture and our unrelenting desire for more-and-more and the big fat lie of modern life and consumerism. The children in the towns and the villages. The Zimbabweans, Martin and, separately, anonymous (name withheld for his and his family’s safety), struggling for a better life and a better country. Their endearing grace today, right now, as they cope with their dire situation. Their hope and action towards a better future.

And, yes, I’m crying as I write this. Tears of both joy and sadness, for the beauty and the desperate sadness of both a land and a people that have taught me how lucky I am.