You guys.  I’m in Africa.

Tanzania, in particular.  Which I always kinda wanted to rhyme with Tasmania, but it doesn’t.  Unless you are the Dutch pilot I had today, who pronounced it the typical way when he was speaking Dutch. But when he spoke English, it did rhyme with the land of canis-looking marsupial.  But what?  I’m in Africa.

Also in the southern hemisphere, but I’ve been here before, here understood broadly.

I had a pleasant flight to Amsterdam, where I met my dad and our (well, his, I suppose, but Tom’s cool, so our) Tom. We had coffee and, after 12 minutes (according to Tom) began talking about politics. The flight to Kilimanjaro airport was fine, border control was fine. The ride from the airport was super dark and a little frightening, thanks to Gideon the thrill seeking driver.  Food was delicious.  Hotel wasn’t what nor where we expected, and the hot water blasted out through a broken valve rather than the shower head, but it had beds, so it was wonderful.

We’re the first to arrive. Two other fellas were supposed to arrive with us, or near us, or something, but they didn’t show up. Rest of the group will show up tomorrow.