I booked myself a flight to Zanzibar yesterday.
A decade ago, if you had asked me if I could ever imagine typing that sentence, I'd have called you "crazy as a betsey bug." Zanzibar is one of those places that always seems obscured by the mists of fantasy, like Tibet or Atlantis or something. You hear about it all your life, and it sounds really exotic, but you don't ever expect to actually go there.
But I'll be going there February 3rd through 8th. With a MAN, even! Sadly, he has absolutely zero romantic interest in people of my particular gender, but he's one of my dearest friends. My buddy Ron, the newspaper designer extraordinaire, will be coming to Nairobi next week. He helped redesign one of the leading papers in Nairobi and is coming back to check up on things.
I met Ron TWENTY-FREAKIN'-FIVE YEARS AGO, when we were both greenhorn Midwesterners interning at The Washington Post. The hay sticking from my collar came from Illinois; his came from next door--Indiana. In one sense, there was absolutely no basis for us to form a bond that would weather a quarter century, me being a po' black chile from Cairo and him being a white farm boy from LaPorte. But from the first time I heard Ron use the term "Swirling Nightmare of Doom" to describe a situation, my heart knew I would cherish his warped sense of humor til I took my last breath.
Ron arrives on Inauguration Day, kind of a reverse gift from America to Kenya. At least for me, anyway. If I'm honest, part of the reason I'm so thrilled to have him here is that it gives me the excuse to take a vacation. I mean, how STOOPID have I been?? For the past six months I've been a coupla hours away from places I've fantasized about for ages....the Masai Mara, Zanzibar, Cape Town, Madagascar, the Seychelles Islands, for Chrissakes....yet I haven't even made a half-hearted attempt to explore.
Okay, so I'm a bit intimidated by traveling alone. I mean, if I had to go to any of those places to report on a story, no prob. But I've never really just packed a bag and gone off on an adventure by myself.......
Cue the Go-Go beat: "HOLD up, WAIT a minute...."
Did I just write that ig'nint sentence? I mean, am I not the gal who overpacked her bags and headed to a village in Northern Uganda 18 months ago? Granted, that wasn't a vacation spree, but if that shit didn't intimidate me, why the hell would a solo trip to Cape Town be a big deal??
Something's making me hold back, and I gotta figure out what it is. I mean, besides the dread of being mistaken for a 'ho while I'm sitting by myself in a smoky bar in Antananarivo.
(On, SNAP! THAT'S why I haven't done any solo vacation travel!)
Still, even that's not really a good excuse. I mean, how many times over the next 30 years will I get to book myself a ticket to Zanzibar--and not have to win the lottery or rob a bank to do it? And though saving money for the diapers I'll need during retirement might seem a worthy pursuit, what if I get pulped by a Matatu in the interim? Wouldn't I feel like Boo Boo the Fool if I didn't at LEAST visit Dar es Salaam before it happened????
Mayhaps it is time for Princess Rachella to grab Life by the scruff of the neck and choke the ever lovin' snot out of it. And I probably should stop waiting for Mr. Divine Right Partner to knock on my door with Silversea Cruise Line tickets in hand, promising to show me the world. Especially since I've already seen a fairly impressive piece of it on my own.
So look for some missives and photos from Stone Town, Zanzibar in a few short weeks. After that, LOOK OUT VISA, 'cuz a sistuh gon' burn some rubber on the Internet booking long weekend getaways to exotic locales.
(And if you're reading this, Mr. Divine Right Partner, you're welcome to tag along.)
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