Two nights ago Seymour and I were watching the Tour de Faso (Burkina Faso, that is; we have been there) and I was getting depressed because it's been far too long since we've been to Africa, and it will be far too long again until we get to go anywhere that isn't special needs family friendly.
(Aside: I am only going to write this once more and then never bring it up again, though I might put it on the about page: Yes, only a privileged sort can whine about missing trips to Africa. I should and do count my blessings. That doesn't mean I can't complain about things in my life that are not going as expected. Fuck off.)
Last night I was chatting about my traveling blues with Armada, Violet's mom (who was just in Zamb1a for three weeks, sometimes I HATE HER but only out of pure green envy) because she of all people understands the need to see what other parts of the world are like. She mentioned that some of her friends were going to the Dog0n region of Mali in the near future. I mentioned that a friend of mine is a guide there. I contacted him to see how he's doing, and to ask if he could help her friends out, and...check it out! He's got his own web site. How cool is that.
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