We are in our last few months in Cameroon now, and it’s strange. We’re trying to make notes of “The Last Time That…” For example, the last time we’ll eat fufu and njama njama is yet to come, but sure to be nostalgic – or will we even realize that it is the last time? (Not to worry, we have ideas for how to make it with an American twist when we get home, and we’ll post recipes once they’ve been suitable tested on our family.) Our last visit to Azam Hotel for pizza has probably already happened. The last time we traveled to Limbe has already come and gone, and this week we made reservations for our last trip to Kribi.
Everywhere we went on our Great Gaines and Losses Farewell Tour that launched this blog and our Peace Corps adventure, we were able to talk about, “when we get back.” Even in our other travels to the Caribbean and Central American and even Europe, we’ve always thought in terms of “one day we’ll be back,” there’s always another visit on the horizon in our minds, another chance to experience our favorite things or get in those experiences we missed the first time through. Yet somehow, coming to Africa it seems is psychologically a further trip to make, a greater distance that leads us to suspect, while we fully intend to see other parts of this great continent, we won’t be coming back to Cameroon. So we’re trying to soak up every favorite part of this experience that we can, to make sure we visit our favorite chop houses and views and places “one last time,” and to make sure that there isn’t anything we’ll regret “if only we’d made time for…” Our “six-ish more months” has now dwindled by half, so we’re doing our best with figuring out how to say goodbye to the place that’s been our home for two years.
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