The ‘free African massage’ is in session as we bounce around down the road from Maasai Mara to Tanzania. We’re cutting through the park and the air is nice and cool at this hour as it streams through the open top of our safari van.

Caffeine levels low. The tolerance continues to build, either that or this instant shit they serve at the camp isn’t cutting it. Either way I’m a little sleepy.

Gibson chatters away in Swahili, his tiny mobile in big hands pressed deep into his ear. Faryar stares off into the distance of the park, trying to solve the mysteries of life. I take another deep lungful of this crisp air. I had no idea it would get so cold here. When you think nothing can surprise you, go traveling.

Crisp air feels good in my lungs. I had to use my Symbicort 6ug/dose turbuhaler this morning. I blame the smoke filled mud shack we were sitting in yesterday. “We’re used to it” said the local showing us the place, coughing a few times immediately after.

The sun rises behind us, an auburn red light streaming through the clouds. Sol hasn’t made an appearance yet, but its power radiates. The pond full of mud fish we saw yesterday is fuller from last nights rain, hiding those wriggling creatures seen yesterday.