I had a fantastic week in Florida visiting my slightly neurotic grandmother, my mom and Irene. The trouble I anticipated with adjusting to life at home has yet to surface. I've managed to slip right back into life here--sups of morning coffee, driving, shopping, and wine with my mom. Being able to take a hot shower everyday is something I will never again take for granted. Clean clothes are such a luxury, and the sense that I can do absolutely anything I want in life is liberating and inspirational. My mind occupies itself with planning for the future of the Team 100 Foundation, to do lists, brainstorming, and devouring everything related to athletics and running have kept me plenty busy. Despite the market crash, the fiery political contest, and depressed predictions of the future, I have nothing but hope. I am grateful that today I am just 26, and not 66 or 76, and that my financial future isn't tied up in the falling stock market. I foresee a great future for the girls and for myself. I am looking forward to getting home, to seeing friends, and reconnecting with my sister. And I'm excited to start a non-profit, to find funding, and to see this little idea grow into something profound. Something that not only is going to fulfill my lifelong dream to work on a cause that intimately empowers Africans, but something that is going to effect great change to not just a few girls in Tanzania, but for their families, their sport, and their country.

Insomnia in D.C.

Well, it’s 3am and I’ve been awake for 2 hours now. Watching the news, Oprah, and now some stupid movie, but my mind is restless and unable to sleep. I have to leave for the airport in 3 hours and am hoping that yesterday’s lack of sleep will catch up to me so that I’m not a complete zombie when Irene picks me up this afternoon. It doesn’t help either that my stomach is aching in hunger despite the 2 bean burritos, cinnamon twists, and diet Coke that I devoured last night at a grungy Taco Bell. That meal though was perfect…it tasted just as good as I had dreamed it would be!

Thoughts from the Plane

The map indicates we’re somewhere over Eastern Canada, slowly plotting along our 7000 mile course. With only 2 ½ hours to go, the nostalgic harmony of Coldplay wets my eyes with sentiment, with anxiety, with thrill. I can’t let myself believe that I’ll be on US soil tonight, that I’ll get to talk to my family, that it’s all over. I don’t know where the months have gone, or how I’ll adjust to being home. How will this person I’ve become—the strong, vivacious, confident me—hold up among the pettiness, the shallowness, and the consumerism? I worry that the insecurities will return, the feelings of not being good enough, those things that I worked so hard to obliterate this past year. Will the frustration, the tension I so often feel with my mom, Calvin, and sister be any different? I hope I can relate to people. I am not looking forward to having the same conversations over and over, or experiencing the loneliness of being surrounded by too much meaningless excess. Will the needle of my internal compass lose its direction? I’m scared I will start to flounder, that the choices and decisions that once seemed perfectly clear will begin to muddle, that everything I was once so sure of, so excited about will gradually fade. I’ve been so excited to come home and now that it’s so close, the uncertainty is rising in me. Is this really what I want?
Yea, it is. I’m ready to get on with the Scholarship Program. I’m ready to discover who I really am now. To see how this Dona really is different from the girl who flew to Bangkok on a one-way ticket last November. I left fleeing the loss of a person I loved in absolute blind faith, in search of the real me, and in search of a new direction for my life. I think I’ve found both and I’m excited to share both with my family and friends at home. It’s just scary going back to a place I know will not have changed at all, when I’ve changed so much.

I love Doha!

I’ve died and gone to heaven! Doha is incredible, overwhelming, and a land of immense wealth. I was welcomed into a world of BMW’s, chauffeured limos, and Range Rovers. Where futuristic 40+ storied buildings line the shoreline, where every road is paved, and where people are well-dressed. I was taken directly to my hotel, The Movenpick Towers and Suites, by the waiting shuttle. I naively asked the driver, Is the hotel nice?. Yes ma'am, it’s a 5 star hotel, he curtly replied, his friendly eyes passing a glace through the rear-view mirror. During the 15 minute drive to the hotel I couldn’t take my eyes off of my surroundings, my jaw hanging open as we whizzed through the Middle Eastern city obviously created by a country with immense oil wealth. I was paralyzed when we pulled up to the hotel. The Swiss owned hotel greets is guests with marbled floors, crystal chandeliers, and tactfully gaudy gold furniture. The staff expertly took my bags, checked me in, and showed me to my suite on the 9th floor. I fumbled with the magnetic swipe card that acted as a key before pushing open the huge darkly stained wooden door to reveal a grand suite, larger than most affordable apartments in California. The room’s kitchenette was well stocked with complimentary bottles of water, a coffee maker, state-of-the-art table top grill, and all of the coffee and tea I could manage to greedily, and with a little guilt, stuff into the front of my backpack. Further in I was dazzled by a colorfully twinkling view of Doha’s skyline framed by two floor-to-ceiling windows. The goose-down beds enticed me into an evening of channel surfing on the flat screen TV, but not before taking the most luxurious shower of my life. I allowed the soothingly hot water to pour from the waterfall style shower head, unconcerned about the amount of water I was wasting as I used an entire bottle of shampoo and conditioner to clean my hair and the full container of body wash to scrub my skin of the months of built up dirt and grime that bucket showers just never seem to be able to rid you of. I stepped out of the shower feeling one step closer to the realities of home, begrudgingly put on my dirty clothes, and went downstairs to see what my free dinner voucher was all about. I wasn’t even hungry, but I was curious. Curries, salads, meats, cheeses, breads, and a variety of desserts decorated the tables. Suddenly, I had an appetite. I piled my plate with expertly designed salad creations, with smooth creamy hummus, and selections of cheeses from around the world. Macadamia nut brownies, a slice of cheesecake, and a fruit tart also managed their way onto my plate. I can’t remember the last time I felt so satisfied, so strikingly happy, and so full of joy, all because of food. Before I gorged myself too much, I was back in my room and had slipped into my cloud-like bed, called to request a 5am wakeup call, and got lost in the obliteration of too many channels. Animal Planet, BBC, MTV, HBO. I couldn’t decide on anything, inundated with choices, so I spent an hour or so just browsing the endless channels before cutting myself off from the mindlessly addicting quality of TV and cozied into the soft embrace of my bed.

Just as I had laid my head down, the shrill ring of a technologically advanced telephone popped me out of bed, the voice on the other end greeting me in a soothing, sweet, “Good Morning Ms. Francis. I hope you slept well. Breakfast is ready for you downstairs and your shuttle will be here to pick you up in 1 hour.” I packed my things and headed downstairs to a magnificent breakfast buffet—sausage, pancakes, waffles, omelets, fruit (even kiwifruit!) cereals, oatmeal, croissants, and scones—that enticed me into being hungry. Still full from a wonderful meal on the plane and the exceptional buffet from the night before, all I really wanted was cup of coffee, but how could I pass up a spread like this? I helped myself to a few of the lighter selections, slices of plums and kiwifruit, dried apricots, cheese slices and that wonderfully smooth hummus. I enjoyed my breakfast along with a cup of real, drip filtered coffee and soaked up the luxuriousness of my reality. What a world away I’d come in just a few hours. The morning before I had woken up in a bed shared with cockroaches, a shower smelling of urine, and an obnoxious 6 year old wanting to fight me.

Anticipating What's Next...

It’s like I’m in some sort of holding period—jetting off from the developing world, back to the developed. Back to 300 TV channels, paved roads, and more choices then most of us know what to do with. Gone are the grueling 12 hour bus rides, hello to my own private, air-conditioned car. No more shady guest houses or hand washing my own clothes. The luxury of comfort and ease await me, first in Doha and then tomorrow in Washington D.C. I can’t decide if the excitement I feel is for the initial break from bare bones travel that home promises, or if it’s for the known, the routine, and starting a new chapter in my life. Have I cured the wanderlust in me, tamed the free spirit? I don’t think so, maybe just for now. For a week, a month, or even a year, but already I can feel the urge to plan my next great adventure, my next exploration of a world that sometimes seems so small, but also so overwhelmingly huge. I have seen so much this year, grown by leaps and bounds, but still I find myself ever questioning and wondering what the world out there has for me to discover.

Anxiously Waiting

It’s 6am. I’ve still got 6 hours before I even leave for the airport, but I’m absolutely giddy with excitement. I can’t sleep or concentrate enough to read a book. I want to run through the streets, to shout at the top of my lungs, to laugh, and dance, and hug strangers. Today is a huge day for me, a day I’ve been excitedly anticipating for months, a day I finally feel 100% ready for. Yes, I’m most excited to see my family and friends, to indulge in all of the foods I’ve so dearly missed, but I can’t tell you how much I have been looking forward to my Qatar Airlines flights, a night in Doha, and the duty-free shopping. Kate hyped up Qatar to the point where I’m worried I’ll be disappointed—big seats, personal TV’s, great food, free alcohol, and friendly service. Then there’s the lure of phenomenal duty free shopping in Doha—perfumes, makeup, and magazines—all that stuff that makes you feel girly. Stuff I’ve really come to appreciate after being grungy and dirty for so long.

Leaving Kate Behind

After a slow, relaxing morning at the hostel, drinking instant coffee and filling my rumbling stomach with watermelon, oranges, and amazingly enough, toasted whole-wheat bread (an anomaly in Africa!) smothered in fresh fruit preserves, I made a final sweep through to check for forgotten items and in excited anticipation said goodbye to Kate. My drinking buddy, the girl who I can always count on to share a shandy or a box of South African red with. The girl who started this trip terrified of malaria and who provided me with a daily tally of her latest bites. The girl who has pushed me to be a more compromising, tolerant person, a friend who I’ve shared some of the most memorable days of my life with. It’s a challenge to find someone who you can travel well with, and despite the stubborn Taurus in both of us (we share the same May 19 birthday) and the tense, irritating moments when we’d both push each others buttons, we made a dynamic pair. I was sad to leave her behind, but the promise of home sprinting towards me helped to negate any lingering pangs of sentiment as the bus rolled off down the Arusha-Moshi Highway.

4 months ago driving between Nairobi and Arusha I remember relishing in the golden landscape of acacia trees, vast open grasslands, a setting crimson sun, and the colorful specks of Masai herding their prized cattle. The scene yesterday was identical, but its magical intensity had faded. A scene that I had once been stunned by, overwhelmed, and embraced by was just another landscape of the African bush. It’s beauty dulled by its normalcy. But still, it’s that vision of Africa that I love, the romantic dream of Africa that has always pulled me to this continent. That’s how I know I’m ready to go home. The spark, the glimmer, the excitement, and the magic have faded. I feel like wrapping up into the anonymity of a cocoon and hiding from a world where I will always be a muzungu, a walking dollar sign, a person to be started at, and a curious novelty. Not only have I started dreaming about Taco Bell and California Pizza Kitchen, but the sense of relief I will feel when I step foot into the Washington D.C. airport, and will simply be another face, another traveler, just one amongst the crowd. Saying this however, it’ll probably be a week at home before I long for the magic of Africa.

Saying Goodbye to Arusha

I said my final goodbyes to Zach and Mama Gwandu early yesterday morning after spending just 2 days in Arusha tying up loose ends in preparation for the start of the Scholarship Program. In fact, today Mamu Gwandu is traveling the 8 hours to Singida to pick up Neema and Faudhia! I arrived in Moshi yesterday morning to find Kate still in bed, nursing a hangover from the previous night. Turns out wine, cocktails, beer, a stripper pole and encouraging friends can make for some interesting stories. After a shower and a cup of coffee, we lingered around town, caught up on internet to do lists, and enjoyed a shandy and Greek salad while basking in the magnificent views of Mt. Kilimanjaro before heading back to the hostel for an afternoon of homemade popcorn and Julia Roberts movies. Exhausted from 3 consecutive nights of disturbed sleep, zoning out to Notting Hill and My Best Friend’s Wedding while filling my yearning for home with one of my favorite snacks was perfectly in order. We’re staying at a place called Hostel Hoff, a hostel that arranges short and long-term volunteer projects for its guests. There’s a constant flow of volunteers here, some staying for just a week, others for upwards of 6 months. It’s a homey little place with a great hot shower, the best book exchange I’ve seen in months, and a fantastic staff that cook delicious meals and make sure that you feel right at home. Kate has been here since Tuesday and plans to stay for the next 6 weeks or so volunteering with a local womens group before returning home to Sacramento in November. As for me, well tomorrow I’m off to Nairobi, my final stop before making the 2 day journey home.

Just 4 Days To Go

Just 4 months ago, I vividly remember expressing my explosive excitement at the prospect of flying to Africa in just 4 days. And here I am today, just 4 days away from leaving this continent and making my journey home, consumed by that same explosive energy. There is so much I love about this continent, its people, and its culture. Many people come to Africa with romantic dreams of the endless Serengeti, colorful tribes, and vibrant culture dominated by traditional dancing and the infectious thumping of drums. Others never dare touch the continent's soil for fear of rampant famine, gut-wrenching poverty, and endless bloody civil wars. The truth is that Africa is a massive continent, bigger than North America, Europe, and Australia combined. A continent of 54 countries, over 6,000 languages, and more than 1 billion people. It's home to modern cities, McDonald's, and the latest gadgetry. It's also a place where preventable diseases, unclean water, and basic human rights go unchecked. Despite the massive hurdles African countries face, its people are optimistic, loving, and gentle. I've experienced some of the greatest acts of human kindness here, but also have witness some of the cruelest. It's a continent of extremes, of parched deserts and snow-capped mountains, of urban sprawl and rural desolation. It's people are black, white, brown, and every other shade in between. Successful democracies neighbor countries whose elders have experienced more modernity than their grandchildren. Africa is all of this, and every gradation in between. Leaving here, I hope people will begin to recognize this great continent as just that, a diverse continent, not a country, not a single entity. Civil war in the Congo shouldn't scare travelers away from Togo, and famine in Ethiopia doesn't mean destitution in Tanzania. The countries I've experienced in Africa have all been magical, be it the generosity, the landscape, or the smiles. Despite the hardships and perceived difficulty of life here, Africa will and always has held a special place in my heart. I've traveled to Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Laos, India, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Congo, Malawi, Mozambique, and Zanzibar during the past 10 months, and while each country has meant something different to me, it's the African countries as a whole that have had the biggest impact on me.

South-East Asia was about letting go and learning to be selfish. About doing things when I wanted and for no other reason than it made me happy or it felt good. I learned the importance of putting myself first and discovered the liberating sensation of saying yes to me, and when necessary, no to others. India was a spiritual place. A country where I mended a broken heart and tasted the affection of unconditional love. It's in India where my spirituality and beliefs were clarified, where I connected with my inner being and my eternal soul. India forced me to question, to rethink, and to examine. Africa helped me to let go. To let go of the go in me, that negative voice that had me far too concerned about petty things. Once I was able to recognize my insecurities as nothing more than conditions of my past and nuances of my society, that bright, golden ball of light in me began to shine. The warm glow of my soul began to shine again, and I was able to recognize myself again. Just as India forced me to question and examine my surroundings and beliefs, Africa helped to center me and taught me that finding the answers isn't always necessary, that it's OK to not know. But what I do know is this. That each of us are on a spiritual journey, a journey that brings us back to earth time and time again as we strive for enlightenment. The things that we experience are by no means random or by a stroke of luck or misfortune, but carefully timed events to help our souls reach the next level of consciousness. People are brought into our lives for specific periods of time to remind us of things or to teach us lessons. And many of the people close to us are the same souls who we have known in past lives and will continue to have relationships with in the future.

I can't tell you why some people experience devastatingly difficult lives while others haven't a care in the world. Why children are raped and brutally murdered. Why people take machete's to their friends and neighbors, or why entire countries are ravaged by endless, seemingly ridiculous wars. I am more confused about many things since setting foot on the east coast of Africa, but perfectly secure in knowing that it isn't my job to solve the world's problems, to understand everything, or to have perfect clarity. My job is to be an active participant in the events and situations put before me, to listen to my inner voice, and to do what I can to improve the lives of others. This 10 month journey has allowed me to connect with myself, to love myself unconditionally, and to intimately recognize that everything happens for a very specific reason. The universe attracts each of us to the situations that will help us grow spiritually. So take life as it comes. Work hard, but don't push too hard, and know that this probably isn't the first or last time you've been here. Enjoy the journey, embrace it, learn from it, and above all else, don't be afraid of the challenges. You will always be taken care of.

Last Day in Mbulu

My last day in Mbulu has been a productive one. The morning started out wiht a trip to the town's stadium where the girls do their speed workouts. After, Zach and I walked into town to use the internet, but a town-wide blackout led us instead to the office of Martha Massowe, the director of a local women's empowerment group funded by the Lutheran Church. Although our discussion was brief, she has agreed to invite the girls to her seminars and workshops related to women's health, gender based violence, and poverty eradication. The single biggest barrier that these girls face are unwanted pregnancies, and the controversial issue of birth control in a fundamentalist religious community make tackling the problem slightly more challenging than simply educating them on their choices and giving them access to contraceptives. Despite the group's affiliation with the church, Mrs. Massowe is a self-proclaimed feminist and woman's rights advocate, and I hope she can become a positive role model and mentor for the girls while empowering them about issues that intimately affect them.

After lunch with a few of Zach's friends, we caught a ride back home just in time to meet with Mrs. Ayo, the wife of Mr. Ayo, headmaster of Chief Sarwatt Secondary School. There are a few key things that I want these girls to have, most importantly is the ability to speak English. As such, one of my objectives during the three days that I have spent here was to identify qualified English teachers who can teach the girls conversational English over the course of the next year. And Mrs. Ayo is just the person I'd been looking for. Having been a teacher for the past 19 years and a mother of 2 herself, she exudes a fun-loving, enthusiastic personality that the girls latched onto immediately. I'm not sure where I'm going to come up with the 50,000 shillings ($40 USD) she's charging per month, but English is something that these girls cannot afford to not know. We've agreed to start the 2 hour sessions twice a week in November, so I'll just keep my fingers crossed that the money will be there. Somehow I'll find the money. In addition to an English tutor, Zach has helped me identify a full-time massage therapist (crucial for the development and recovering of stressed muscles) and a woman who will cook 2 meals a day for the camp. Right now, the girls do all of the shopping, cooking, and dishes, consuming the majority of their free time. For a mere $25 per month, the girls will instead be able to focus on learning English and with equal importance, be able to enjoy the luxury of free time. Time to do those things that all teenagers love--to listen to music, to gossip with friends, and to sleep. I am so looking forward to sinking my teeth into this project once I get home and to create something great with these girls and something great for their country.

Working Out the Details

Zach and I spent much of yesterday ironing out the details for the Scholarship Program and brainstorming ideas for the future of the training camp. Neema and Faudhia take their primary school final exams today and by next week, Mama Gwandu will travel to Singida to pick them up. Rather than moving them straight to the training camp in Mbulu, they will stay with Mama Gwandu in Arusha for a few weeks as they are eased into a training schedule and to help with the tough transition of being away from home. But by the first week of October they will be in Mbulu with the rest of the girls. Rather than staying in the same room with the other 10 girls, Zach has rented out a seperate room for them so that they will be able to focus on their studies. Right now, the room is just a 12'x12' cement room with a nice big window and overhead light, but with no furniture, it's not yet suitable to be lived in. And so, with some of the leftover funds that we donated back in June (A big thanks to Susan Vitulli of CPNS!!), I have placed an order with a local carpenter for a bed, table and desk, and two chairs. Today I'm going to pick out a mattress and bedsheets, and maybe a few extra things to spruce up the room a bit.

Yesterday, Zach and I also met with the headmaster at Chief Sarwatt Secondary School to inform him of the girls' enrollment at the start of the new school year in January, explain the program, and to introduce ourselves. Mr Ayo was very enthusiastic about our plans and supportive of our lofty ambition. Sitting in his office, berating him with questions and expressing my concerns, I felt like a parent interviewing potential schools for my child's enrollment. It's so exciting to see all of this coming together. What started out as just an idea, a mere suggestion just two months ago, is coming to life and the future of two young girls from poor, rural villages is about to change dramatically!

Back at the Training Camp

It's so wonderful to be back with the girls again. It's like being home. I was greeted by exuberant squeals, massive hugs, and genuine, ear-to-ear smiles. Since June, 4 girls have had to leave the camp to return tot heir villages due to a lack of progress. Zach isn't running a charity program, and when girls, after a few years show little improvement or lack of competitive desire to achieve, he has to make the difficult decision to send them home. Unfortunately, Zubeda, Farida, Phelomena, and Gertrude are no longer part of Team 100. But in the next two weeks, Neema and Faudhia, the youngest recruits to the team, and the very first scholarship students will be joining Zach and the girls in their new home in Mbulu.

The camp in Mbulu is much more comfortable than the conditions in Arusha, the biggest improvement being electricity! The girls are also less cramped and are afforded slightly more space, but with 10 girls still sharing a single room, that's not saying much. The camp is located at 1,850 meters in the Great Rift Valley, home to some of the best runners in the world from Ethiopia and Kenya, and soon, if all goes as planned, from Tanzania as well! The high altitude will give the girls the extra edge they need to eventually compete among the best.

Zakia unfortunately did not perform as well as she had hoped at the Olympics and didn't earn a spot in the 5000m finals. However, the stomach pains she suffered the day of her Olympic debut have subsided and she has been racing in Italy for the past few weeks, winning races and running times close to her personal best. She will run in a few more international invitationals this month before coming back to Tanzania to resume her training. Zaituni will be traveling to Europe at the end of October to compete in a handful of cross-country invitationals as well. The two 14-year old scholarship athletes, Neema and Faudhia have been invited by the International Athletic Federation to compete in a race in India next month too! These girls are becoming quite the international bunch. Good job girls!

Feeling Great Again

All of those depressed, funky feelings have completely disappeared. With less than 2 weeks left, I feel like I've come full circle. I'm excited about going home, but glad I still have some time left here. It was when I still had between 3 and 4 weeks left, when I was exhausted from long, seemingly unending days of travel and still a good amount of time before my departure that I slipped a little. But now, having done everything I came to Africa to do and anticipating the next couple of days visiting Zach and the girls, I am just happy, plain and simple. And I just found out that my mom will be in Florida visiting my grandma at the same time as me, so I'll get to see her a whole week earlier than anticipated!!

Tarangire National Park

Morris, a former Olympian and training partner of Zach and Mama Gwandu, is also the chief of police for the entire Manyara Region. Holding such a high position in a rural, newly formed region of Tanzania brings with it great respect, authority, and a certain level of fame. Morris' genuine and compassionate demeanor has the entire town of Babati wrapped around his finger. We're staying at the nicest lodge in town for free. We've eaten at the nicest, most expensive restaurant in town for free. And last night, after returning from our safari, we enjoyed beers at the police mess for free. Tarangire National Park is within the Manyara Region and therefore, under Morris' jurisdiction as well. Tanzanian National Parks are strictly monitored and controlled due to their immense income generation for the country. Private vehicles are not allowed to enter any of the park, and all visitors must enter as part of an organized tour and with a registered tour company. Doing this will set you back anywhere from $150-$200 per day. But not when you've got Morris on your side.

Prior to his appointment as Chief of Police, he owned Green Leaf Safari Company based in Dar Es Salaam. Since his move up to Northern Tanzania, the company has been handed over to Cathy to manage and run. With his knowledge of tourism and safaris, Morris organized a day trip to Tarangire National Park for us--no formal tour company, no hefty fines, just a nice, leisurely day in one of Tanzania's parks with the highest concentration of animals and the lowest concentration of tourists. We started spotting animals before we even entered the park. Thousands of zebras, buffalo, and antelope. Families of graceful giraffes and lumbering elephants. We spotted birds--Helmeted June Fowl, Vultures, Bear Go Away, Hammackos, Hornbills, and even the iridescently blue backed Bustaling. We watched a jackal stalk its tiny prey, a Kirk's dik dik, the smallest of the antelope family. But the most exciting sighting of the day was when we stumbled upon a family of elephants trying to intimidate and fend off a single, female lion. The lion was lying low in the shade of an evergreen baobob tree, watching with intense calculations the herd of elephants clustered just a few meters away. As we positioned ourselves into a better viewing position, the lion's rustling in the grasses sent the elephants into round of ferocious warning calls that made the hair on my arms stand up. The lion, alone and vulnerable against elephants without the help of her pack, retreated from her strategic position, creeping closer to us and further from the imminent threat of angry, protective elephant mothers. As the lion came towards us, her bloody chin revealed the recent feast she'd been enjoying under the baobob, a feast she was probably reluctant to leave behind to the mercy of the savannah's scavengers. The entire scenario lasted only a few minutes, but the vivid intensity of it has it burned into my memory forever. As we pulled away, Kate and I exchanged a look of utter disbelief, completely shocked at what we had just witnessed, and our jaw-dropping silence was lost as laughter and excitement-induced chatter spilled from our mouths.

A few minutes passed and I took to my perch hanging out the rear passenger window, the African sun casting its glow on the open plains and its warms rays on my skin, the wind picking tears from my eyes, and the feeling of completeness filling that little spot just under my rib cage where I like to think my soul resides. I felt so whole, so complete, so alive out there, and again, a smile spread across my face that couldn't be contained.

Swimming with Wild Dolphins

Kate treated us to a beautiful hotel on the east coast of Zanzibar for the night. The hotel's restaurant and bar overlook the neon-turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean, its reach stretching out to the brilliant blue horizon, and its vastness dotted with the triangular white sails of dhows. At low-tide, women work the seaweed farms, harvesting a crop that is exported for mere pennies to the sushi consuming nations in the east. Meals of kingfish and prawns have satisfied my insatiable love for fresh seafood, and the sounds of the ocean have filled my ears with the magical allure of the coast. There is something so primitively comforting about being by the ocean, just like the flickering of campfire flames, or the sacheting of white puffy clouds across a bright blue sky. The interconnectedness of all of us, of human beings, of our ancestors, of the universe is so powerfully apparent when you can just be. Learning to just be has been a major part of this trip for me. To be one with myself, to be one with the world. It's a liberating feeling once you can finally let go of the external world and all of its influences, to be fully in the moment, in the present. And for some reason, finding that inner-peace and presence is much easier when you succumb tot he magic of flames, to the dancing of clouds, or to the powerful beauty of the ocean.

We woke up before the sun had peeked up from the horizon, enjoyed a breakfast of pineapple, papaya, and tea, and by 7am had boarded a small boat that took us out into the rough seas in search of dolphins. Ominously dark clouds patchworked the sky in gradations of greys and blacks, and the deep blue water swelled in turbulent anger with teh approaching storm. But the impending storm never came, the waters calmed, and teh sun chased the darkest of the clouds away. In the chilly tropical morning air, we stripped down to our bikinis, strapped on our masks and snorkels, and pulled the rubber flippers onto our feet. And then we spotted them. A pod of dolphins, their dorsal fins cutting elegantly through the water's surface. I dropped off the side of the boat, ungracefully flipping into the water backwards. The dolphins were everywhere, jumping, playing, diving into the ocean's depths. What started out as 8 or 9 disappearing to the ocean floor, quickly turned into a pod of 20 strong circling up towards us gently nudging a blow fish, passing it between them, just as kids play with a balloon. Tapping it up and letting it gently float back down, showing off their colorful toy to their curious, amazed guests. I did flips in the water, clapped my hands, and peaked their curiosity. They swam within a hands reach from me and I giggled like a little kid. Our smiling faces examined each other, our noses just 2 feet from touching. The playful creatures invited us into their world and allowed us to join in the fun. I am still giddy with amazement, in awe of their proximity to us, and amazed at the true gentle nature of the perpetually smiling creatures. Eventually the dolphins swam off towards deeper water in search of food, leaving us to climb back into the boat and bask in the adrenaline-infused excitement coursing through our bodies. Once again, it was impossible to wipe that smile from my face or to control the laughter bubbling from my chest. Swimming with a pod of wild dolphins off the coast of Zanzibar was one of the best experiences of my life!