Beauabram’s Travels

Safaris and Sunshine.

Traveling anywhere in the world, from anywhere in the world, doesn’t take more than three days anymore. Even if you are in Outer Mongolia and you wanted to make it to a party in suburban Houston, Texas, it wouldn’t take more than 50 hours of traveling—it would suck, but you can do it with out too much effort in our modern era of long haul flights and pre packaged airline food. Speaking of which, I have logged a lot of miles recently. I have actually lost count of how many flights I have been on since May, but I do know that I have consumed my fair share of meals in a box, have been jostled enough peeing in turbulence that I have realized the importance of dedicating my whole concentration to the act of urination, and, most importantly, if I am hung-over from drinking all night the last place I want to be is in the middle seat in economy trying not to simultaneously puke and shit myself. But I digress. I have traveled a lot, and have covered a whole lot of ground to get here; The Dark Continent, the Cradle of Humanity, the place where such tales of Heart of Darkness and A Far Off Place have occupied my imagination since I was old enough to read and dream of Africa. On November 30th I left Tokyo on a two day journey from Japan, thru London, down to Nairobi and then a quick flight over the mythical Mt. Kilimanjaro to the seaside city of Mombasa. I didn’t sleep but a few quick sleeps here and there, aware that I had broken my streak of no missed flights when I slept/puked my way thru Toko-Incheon the weekend before. Well—I went out drinking in Tokyo before I hit out on the open road in the morning of the 29th, in near freezing conditions ripping thru my light pullover and sapping my remaining strength after a whole night at a club filled with models and foreigners trying to hit on said models. I remembering smiling to myself as my pack dug deeper into my weary shoulders and my head pounded and my sore throat cried out for water as I slumped in my bus seat heading to Narita airport—I was going to Africa. For years I had dreamt of the beaches on the Indian Ocean, the expanse of the grasslands of the game reserves, and of course, the wild animals that I had only experienced when watching documentaries on TV at home, in nice comfortable Texas.

Three weeks later:

I’m on the plane flying back from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. I’m brown from my time on the beaches and sunbathing on Zanzibar Island. I am now halfway through my trip around the world. Africa, a place almost more mythical than real to me for so long is now nothing but another memory. Like Australia. Like Asia. Like, Fiji and Hong Kong, like tubing down the river in Laos and drinking all night in a sandy beach bar in the South Pacific. More and more this trip is becoming past tense—“…Oh when I was in Thailand I drank so many buckets…Yeah man, Cambodia has some cool temples…Tokyo? Yeah I had some sushi…” And now I can say I saw Africa—or at least a little bit of East Africa. I flew into Nairobi 3 weeks ago. It seems like a long time ago, and it seems like no time at all. I left home August 1. Its now almost January. Time flies. I can barely keep up. I make friends and then move on again. I see sun and snow in the same day. This morning I was sweating through my t-shirt in Africa, now as I write this I am flying over the snow tipped Pyrenees Mountains in France, steeling myself for a London winter’s day. I know this entry is scattered but so are my memories. I feel like someone shook the file cabinet of my past out and the folders are all lying on the floor in a random pattern or jumbled memories, images, sounds and faces. Before I can bend down to pick something up from the past I am on another plane writing about another continent. I have 7 months in South America. It’s more than half my trip. I have nothing really planned. Some flights and ideas here and there. But first I am meeting old friends in London. It will be my 4th time in 3.5 years through England’s capital. I’ll see people I have met on this trip. Ill see people I met on trips in the past. Ill most likely meet new people. My life is a revolving door, living out of a bag, flying, driving and sailing across 6 continents. Drink coffee in Africa, have a beer that night in London. Why not? I’m young. I am healthy and open and ready. I still want more, I am not done yet. The lions and the animals of Africa, its people and oceans and bright blue infinite skies and searing sun were like nothing else. I can’t be done with my travels at the end of this one—I have to go back and see more Africa. I have 1 place down and 9 more missed every country I go. And my passport has no more room. I need more pages or maybe a whole new book. I have something like 15 more countries. I can’t stop, I wont try, ill make it back home and there’s no need to be shy.

One.