Leaving Cape Town

The moon hangs heavy over the African continent, yellow crescent low and gravid. From my airplane seat, I recognize the beaches and promontories of stunning Cape Town: the bay where we spent the week, the rocky coast where we hiked for dusty hours, the white-sand reservoir on top of Table Mountain where we swam a couple of days ago.

I haven't been writing. I usually write when I travel, but my travels usually involve more time alone. This has been wonderful, exhausting, social, long—and not over yet.

In 2023 I flew about once every two weeks, all year. There was always a reason: conferences, a new job, three or four different kinds of short term work, the culmination of a fellowship, weird grant opportunities. I apply for opportunities the same way some people online shop, and it's amazing what turns up in my inbox. And then my travel habit is exacerbated by life circumstances, family, and friends.

This current trip is family. I saw my brother in Taiwan "on the way" between London and Australia, spent two weeks in terra australis getting to know the country my partner is from, and the last three weeks in South Africa with my parents and brother competing in a series of orienteering races. Now we're rounding out the family visits by seeing my sister in Rotterdam, then closing out with a two-week trek along the Fisherman's Trail.