I decide to sleep in today being tired from going to bed after 5am. Again, I'm surprisingly not hungover. Astrid's already gotten up so I have the tent to myself. The previous night we were moved to a bigger tent with proper beds at no extra charge.
The sun is up and it's getting hotter but I'm reluctant to leave the bed even though sleep is proving elusive. I toss and turn and eventually in my frustration I start to cry. Not because I can't sleep but because I have to leave the next day. Because I'm so incredibly grateful for, but also in disbelief of, this wonderful experience.
At around lunch time I pull myself together and head towards the communal area. We've booked a basket weaving workshop and horse riding for the afternoon. I'm still tired and lazy and I welcome Astrid's to not go basket weaving anymore. We would need to walk to the workshop and I'm just not up to it. However, some American Peace Corps volunteers are also going and I figure if I can get a ride in their car I'd still go. But they're walking. So I sit down, get myself a drink and order some lunch. When it starts raining the Americans return to fetch their car and I change my mind again since I can now get a lift with them. I give my drink away and leave instructions to have my lunch boxed.
The baskets in the workshop are gorgeous and I have brief dreams of making something similar. There's a reason my dreams were so brief. It's not easy. It's also slow and monotonous and the Americans don't seem to talk much. I get a bit bored after the first hour and realise that I'm not going to have much of a basket at the end of the workshop. I shouldn't trade my day job for basket weaving just yet. After 3 hours I have a "basket" about 5cm in diameter. I'm all the more appreciative of the beauty of the baskets knowing the time and hard work that goes into it.
Yes, it took me 3 hours to make this
After the workshop we head back to the backpackers so that I can yet again take on something I've never done before: horseriding. Again, I'm terrified and asking myself why I'm doing this. Again, I don't chicken out. We're driven to the horse stables in a big ol' Landy. The roads are muddy with big pools of water in the road. Thankfully the Landy handles the mud and pools a lot better than Americans' car did.
My terror has not subsided by the time we get to the stables but I get on the horse anyway. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be. I'm given instructions on how to handle the horse (be firm, show him who's in charge, etc) but it doesn't help that I got the most stubborn horse ever and my firmest command only reluctantly gets him to move.
We take the route along the river. I'm getting the hang of it and am slightly more at ease. What? The horse, San, is afraid of water? I'm regretting the decision to go along the river. At some point we have to go into the river to avoid thorn trees. San seems intent on sticking to ground and doesn't give a damn about the rider being scratched to shit.
We head back through a smallish forest. There are brilliant flashes of lightning in the distance. We're on solid ground so San is handling better. But not for long. He seems to be reluctant to even walk through the pools that formed from the early afternoon rains. Bastard. Again I'm heading for thorn trees except now I'm at risk from more than a few scratches as a branch wraps around my throat. The more I'm trying to steer the horse away the closer he goes to the tree. I have brief visions of my throat being slit be the vicious thorns until I finally decide that it's in my best interest to remove the branch wrapped around my neck with my bare hands before getting the horse under control. After all, some punctures in my hand is preferably to punctures in my neck. I managed to get San under control and he seems more complacent now. Probably since his attempt to murder me failed and he's given up until next time. There won't be a next time.
Back at the stables I dismount ungracefully. In fact, I wouldn't even call it dismount. I'm congratulated by the owner on handling the murderous horse so well. Is she being sarcastic? I should sue.
Back at the backpackers I take a shower to rid myself of horse smell. Halfway through there's a power failure and I'm left showering in the dark. Now, I'm not afraid of the dark. Or of the frogs and lizards that share the outdoor showers. But I am afraid of stepping on a frog or lizard in the dark, falling and breaking my neck. And probably killing the frog/lizard to boot. Luckily my shower is incidentless.
I head to the bar to get something to eat. Have to line the stomach before the Last-night-in-Maun celebrations starts. Jens thought it appropriate (and so did I for that matter) that we say our goodbyes with bottles of booze. The power is still out and I'm annoyed. And it really has nothing to do with darkness or my perceptions that the bar service is slow or that I might miss dinner because the kitchen has no power. I'm annoyed because I'm sad. I'm sad because I'm leaving.
I work through my annoyance with a drink, delicious ribs and mash (thank god for gas cookers) and some ice cream. The power comes back on, there is much rejoicing and Jens goes to fetch the first bottle of booze. Thankfully (for my liver) he only got 2. Also thankfully, the American Peace Corps volunteers join us. We start with the tequila and having it with pineapple instead of lemon or lime since it's better this way. Everyone's a bit skeptical but after the first shot and segment of pineapple we're all congratulating Jens on his genius pairing of pineapple and tequila. Astrid initially did not want to drink but I made up the rule that the pineapple can only be had with tequila and well that was it.
We work through the tequila quite quickly after my suggestions to take it slowly were shot down. I've managed to develop the alcohol resistance of professional drinker. Graham hasn't and is drunker than anyone else. Much hilarity ensues, mostly at the expense of Graham (or Gray Ham as he affectionately became known).
Everyone is quite exhausted and soon after finishing the second bottled (Spiced Gold) we say out goodbyes and head of to bed. I feel sorry for those who have to get up early to leave and I'm grateful that I'll be able to spend a few more hours staring lazily and melancholically at that peaceful river.
I'm fairly well organised the next morning (it's no longer a surprise that I'm not hungover) and manage to pack everything without having a nervous breakdown. I got a few extra hours of sleep after Astrid left which helped a lot. Our goodbyes were short. I'll see her again in Cape Town before the year ends.
After breakfast and another nap it's time to go. I've accepted the inevitable and am no longer harbouring fantasies of abandoning my normal life. I don't even take it as a sign that I should stay when our plane breaks down right before we are to leave and have to wait for a further 2 hours for another plane to arrive. Ok, well maybe I consider it a sign for at least a second or so.
This was the last entry. I wrote this mostly for myself even though I've forced a few of you to read it anyway. I wrote it in case I forgot. And because I thought that something this special should be recorded somewhere. But I doubt I'll ever forget and this trip came at the perfect time to cement what I've learned about the world and myself over the last year and even taught me that I'm capable of more than I thought previously.
So for a fairly long time I was browsing through the kitten section on Gumtree and a few times I actually took the next step to see if the kitten was available for adoption. Usually they weren't and it took a really long time to actually adopt; there are tons of kittens available for adoption but it turns out I'm quite picky about cats. 
I've had Abra for 3 months now and didn't blog about him due to the laziness aspect but also he doesn't sit still long enough to get a decent picture of him. Now, however, with my new, improved, super camera I managed to snap some decent pics.
Abra doesn't just pick fights with Noname. My hands and feet bear the scars. At one point so did my face and neck. Abra feels the need to hide under cars outside when it's time to go inside. He's especially good at this when you're in a hurry. And lets not mention the waste product this cat produces. I swear he just waits for me to get home or to start eating before squatting down. For some bizarre reason he feels the need to announce to the world what he's about to do. Perhaps he's apologises for the stink he is about to create. Perhaps it's a "Fuck you, muthafuckers. I'm gonna stink it up in here". Who knows. 
