“Ready for your first wave?” he asked, skipping the gushing praise I thought I deserved for getting out. “After you catch the wave, paddle back to me.”
That’s when the illusion shattered into pieces. Every time I rode a wave into shore I would have to paddle back through the white water.
After my shower, I looked in the mirror at my back, and was shocked at the giant red welts. I had just arrived from Ethiopia, and had been attacked by tse-tse flies yesterday. Under normal circumstances, I would be alarmed enough at what I was looking at, but I was even more freaked by the realization that I was about to set off on the Kili climb with some kind of allergic reaction.
I have been fascinated by Ethiopia ever since I learned about Lucy, the ancient human ancestor found there. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an archeologist. Or maybe an anthropologist. I struggled between the two, but in either case, I knew I wanted to go to Ethiopia.
I think of Mongolia on a daily basis, since I have named my dog Gobi. She looks just like one of the dogs my sister and I met and adopted for the duration of our stay. Like my dog, my memories of Mongolia are never far from my heart.