Tomorrow, I shall have to wake up from my comfy Dublin slumber and start making arrangements for East Africa. I thought to go away for about 3 weeks to a month. I'll stop in London on my way back. The first thing I'll have to do is to call the hotel I knew so intimately for years and to where I haven't been back for the last 3. The idea fills me with excitement. Of all the countries I have lived in, I really adore East Africa. The land and its people are eternally beautiful.
If all is well with the hotel that faces the Indian Ocean - because there had been talk of a sale or takeover even then - I'll ask about my old acquaintances and if I can't locate them just now, I'll try very hard to find them when I'm there. The beach isn't safe for a woman to walk on alone. The hotel always sent a couple of Masai guards to accompany me in the past. I'll use the same tour company I've always known to go on safari. I hope the staff haven't changed. They were a friendly lot. I still remember their names. Florence, Dio, Paulo...
This time round, I'd probably be poking around the bookshops in the atmospheric market streets more than usual. I'll be taking my half-finished stories of Africa that hopefully now, I'd be able to complete them with the right flavour and authenticity. I hate my stories even if they are fictitious, coming across as fake. Hopefully, this travel experience will rejuvenate my writing once more. My motivation really needs new breath.
I won't be going yet for about 3 weeks or so.