Although our safari is, sadly, complete, our journey continues. Our guide, Simon, drove us to Nelspruit Airport. Along the way, when the others were sleeping, he asked us about some controversial American topics. He’s a playful guy. Inquisitive. Opinionated. But willing to listen and learn. And so we had a nice chat. We got to the airport right on time, he unloaded our luggage, we said our thank yous and goodbyes and gave him a big tip. He’d worked hard and gave us a great trip. There were times when even he, and the other two seasoned safari-goers, were amazed by what we saw. You might imagine, then, how someone who’s never been on a safari felt with this experience. Our new Taiwanese and our new Russian friend, and the two of us — and doesn’t this sound like an Agatha Christie novel now? — were suitably impressed by everything we saw. Simon said it was a terrific trip. He talked it up. But that’s sort of his job, right? Our two new English friends, who have been at this for a long time, endorsed that. So we lucked out. Or one of the four of us were a good luck charm. They all say this: the reason you go back is because every time it is different. But how could it be better?

Anyway, we’re at this airport, Nelspruit, which felt brand new, but has been around for a long time, apparently. It boasts the largest thatch roof in all of Africa. (If I’d known that at the time … ) It’s relatively small, as an airport. I asked the ticket agent where the gates where, she said “Around the corner.” And they were.

While we waited to be called I visited the restroom. I think about sinks more than anyone not in the sink designing, sink selling or sink cleaning businesses, I’m pretty sure. I have strong opinions about sinks. I do not know why either of these things are the case, but they are. And, yet, it had never occurred to me that you might have a painted sink. I loved these.

Though I’m not sure about the little bump texture feature on this one.

Most importantly, does anyone have any cool sink-shaped stencils?

At Nelspruit you walk outside to your plane. This is always fun, because you don’t get to do it that often. Also, it makes you feel like a rock star. (If only you didn’t have to wait to be called …) And you can see more of the plane, which is reassuring. Yes, all of the outside here. I will now board your miracle conveyance with confidence, trusting now that the mechanics and the pilots know their work, for the plane assembly has passed my critical eye.

Also, check out the livery on the Airlink jets.

This is the second-largest carrier within Africa by number of flights, and third-largest by number of seats. They are also feeling the fuel pinch. So glad we booked this months and months ago.

The thing we were looking forward to on Airlink is that we had heard they serve Krispy Kreme doughnuts on the plane. For some reason, Krispy Kreme is a big deal in Johannesburg — we saw several — and presumably elsewhere, if they’re serving them on the plane. I was looking forward to seeing which recipe they used, and how they tasted at altitude. (Because things taste different at altitude, look it up.)

Sadly, I do not know the answers to these questions. No doughnuts were offered. We had a local sandwich, though. It tasted differently, too. Dry air, cabin pressure, white noise, etc.

I had the window seat, and I enjoyed nice views, but a terrible thought came over me while I was looking outside. Only a few dozen people in the whole world had a chance to see this beautiful moment, and they had to be looking out the window just then to see it.

I’m not sure why that came to mind, or why the thought of it sunk so deeply into me that it went from brain to shoulders to wherever your spirit lives on your person. This plane is up here and no one else is. It has four lines of seat from fore-to-aft. Only the people on the right side, in the window, could see this, and even then only if they weren’t asleep, or distracted.

It didn’t occur to me until later that the people on the port side of the plane had the same circumstance, some incredible view that only a few people could see. And, most frustratingly, one I could never see. That didn’t come to mind until later because I spent most of my flight thinking about my first realization. And then, as we approached Cape Town, me and just a few other people in the whole wide world saw this moment.

And I think maybe this is what it is like to be confronted by chance and mortality. And also choice.

It was an easy flight. We left on time. We arrived on time. We are now down very near the bottom of South Africa. We caught an Uber (avoid the pretend Uber drivers at the airport, visitors are advised). We rode across town to our hotel. Checked-in with minimal difficulty. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant (it was pretty nice and incredibly convenient, what with being just downstairs and all). And now we are getting ready for tomorrow. Big day tomorrow.