"You must be very busy."

It's getting to be that time.  All of the tedious loose ends of pre-travel preparation are interrupting our phone calls, dangling themselves in the corners of our rooms, and floating around with the ice in our drinks.  Yesterday, we endured the third shots in the Hepatitis A & B series, dropped off our Malarone prescriptions (a rant for later) and contacted some more hostels and couchsurfing hosts in Amsterdam and Arusha.  We still have to purchase Rx glasses for each of us, cross paths with a few more VIPs, and alert all of our banks to our travel plans so as not to be stranded without any money because Visa thinks we've been robbed.  It doesn't help that tomorrow is our last business day before we leave.  Thanks, Martin Luther King Jr.

Bill and I cycle daily (but, mercifully, not always concurrently) between busy preparation and exhausted escapism. It's at least somewhat organized. We'll spend the first eighth of our day finding the right combination of caffeine and will power to get ourselves into a somewhat productive mindset, followed by half a day or so of researching, rechecking, Googling, brows a-furrowed. Eventually, when we suspect we've achieved just slightly above the minimum required trip preparation for the day, we'll fall into recession for what's typically a third of the day, insisting that, oh hey, we could sure use the brand of relief afforded us by the episode of The Misadventures of Flapjack that's on as therapy for our prep-tired minds.  Let's make dinner (typically our second meal for the day), and then, let's paint, find more cartoons, discuss our friends' relationships and talk about how old and impatient my cat is.  Eventually, because we are most decent at night, we'll spend the last quarter of our day pulling ourselves out of torpor and our focus returns to the completion of tasks necessary for successful preparation, though it's arguable that that fraction of the day may very well be better spent brushing up on math.

Yesterday, we actually managed to straddle being productive and being social.  My mom's co-worker, Sue, invited Bill and I over to her house to meet with her father, Robert, who has been to Africa quite a few times; twice to Tanzania, if I recall correctly.  The man has a wealth of knowledge, photography (both professional and personal) and experience.  Their house has an entire room of African art, books, and safari souvenirs. He brought out a couple of portfolios of his African wildlife photography.  Stunning shots!  To say Bill and I were jealous would be an understatement.  Plus it's always great to meet folks with the same favourite creatures as you (it's not often you meet someone with a great respect for hyenas).  I suggested he digitize the photographs and put them online for all the world to grow green with envy.  Perhaps when Bill and I return and reconnect with him, we can help him with that.  They really are spectacular photographs.  Bob and his family were tremendously generous with their advice, and each story they shared helped remind us of the wild and beautiful environment we'll soon be living in (a much needed reminder, as embassy visits, prescription pricing and online couchsurfing requests have thrown somewhat of an impersonal and sterile light on the preparation process).  Sue even gave us an extra headlamp, a much-needed voltage converter/adapter thingy, and a money belt!  Someone just moved her family to the top of the postcard list.  It was a very good night and Bill and I look forward to reconnecting with them upon our return.

One of the great things about last night was the ability to have a discussion with someone about Africa without violence or disease entering into the conversation.  Though we know it's from a genuine fear for our well-being, it's become increasingly difficult to listen to the same ignorant questions about our upcoming trip.  This generalized view of an entire continent made up of 53 countries spanning all sorts of climates, cultures, and governments but defined in most people's minds by a preview they once saw for Hotel Rwanda and the box from Blood Diamond is tedious and disheartening.  It robs the individual of the very fulfilling knowledge of what the word "life" means all over the African continent, and disregards completely the cultural richness and  unique histories of any and all of those areas.  Perhaps our time in Europe and the UK will lack this element simply because of proximity.  Perhaps not.  I suppose it doesn't matter.  Two weeks from today, we'll be waking up (somewhere) in Arusha, finding out what the word "life" will mean for us over the course of the next several months.

On a more saddening note, today I head up to Philadelphia for what will be my last acupuncture appointment until the summer.  I DON'T LIKE THAT FACT.  Had I millions of dollars, I would clone Ellen (I couldn't take her away from her other patients; I'm rich, not cruel) and bring her to Tanzania with me.  Since the beginning of my treatment, acupuncture and apple cider vinegar (one and/or the other) have helped me with every problem I've had, and I won't have access to either in Tanzania.  Since my mystery illness of 2008-present is arthritic in nature, we're all assuming/hoping that the dryness and/or the altitude where we'll be living might be more kind to my joints.  There was a good chunk of 2009 during which my symptoms had completely disappeared.  A couple of months ago, that signature stiffness slowly started creeping back into the bones in my hands and my knees have been giving me problems.  I do intend to practice qigong while in Tanzania.  I've always had dramatic results practicing it in nature.  My acupuncturist in Florida suggested I do so on the beach one day if I had the chance and when I finally had the chance to, I slept through the entire night without any pain and my stiffness eased up tremendously the next day. I could only imagine what practicing on the side of the world's largest volcanic caldera will do for me.