#and then in the afternoon there were landscapers over for some very necessary ground fixes and they made some noise

[firjii]

got a terminal case of the lazies today lads, I crunched hard yesterday to upload an EP in time for Bandcamp Friday and it's absolutely gonna also go live everywhere else but HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BRAIN BROKEN TODAY

[inb4belphienaps]

crying over spilt milk

warnings: none word count: 2285

“Truth be told, I’ve been having these dreams. Dreams almost of another life, a past life perhaps. One that I’d lived and seen and breathed through at some distant point in time.”

I read over my words, holding the letter in my hands.

“They are, by far, the most intricate and detailed dreams I’ve ever had. Usually, I don’t remember them. But these…these feel too real, too specific, too thought out to be anything except something akin to memories of a bygone era.”

I recall a few of them with some difficulty. That was always how dreams worked, like trying to grab mist with your bare hands and having nothing tangible left as evidence.

“Shall I confess?

They have now become a source of entertainment for me, having increasingly rooted themselves in my mind, to the extent that I find myself looking forward to (for lack of better phrasing) the ‘next installment’.

It’s bizarre, I’ll admit. How eager I am to get to sleep as soon as the clock shifts from afternoon to evening, when the hour hand turns to six and I wonder if I’ll see him again…”

.

.

.

as you slowly float back up to the surface, the first sound that hits you is the singing of birds. their bright and cheerful chirps filter in with a hint of irony. though they're pleasant, quietened by the curtains hanging over the windows, it means that it's still rather early.

there's a chill in the air and you turn over under your duvet, tucking your feet in further towards your knees, eager to keep the warmth on your skin. and yet, you open your eyes, not needing to blink any sleep from them. oddly enough, you're more awake than you'd thought. whatever dream you'd been having is far from your mind as you bask in the scattered sunlight dancing on your walls.

such serenity ignites a type of mild excitement in you. and with that in mind, you will yourself to get out of bed.

you draw back the curtains and glance outside, looking out at the landscape, where the sun is shyly peeking over the hill. dawn is only just breaking and as you open a window, a gust of wind greets you, sending a rush of floral scents your way.

you can place notes of rose and lavender, and maybe honeysuckle too. the scenery is beautiful, and you lean against the ledge to admire it. clear skies and waves of green, dotted here and there with reds and pinks and yellows. there's a calmness to the color and vibrancy. something you hadn't stopped to feel in a long time.

it stays in the background. while you pour yourself some tea and sit down for breakfast, and when you turn on the radio to the crooning of some ballad you can't quite place. and even as you set about doing the laundry, humming every now and then to a tune only you seem to know.

the basket you use is one you've weaved yourself (in an attempt to be impassioned by a new hobby). it's small and sturdy and it does the job. you wonder whether it'll last you, hoping that if it breaks, it'll at least do you the favor of waiting until it's empty.

though it doesn't take long, you're startled to see the sun in the sky as you step onto the gravel path, basket in hand. it seems to stare down at you and wink as clouds roll overhead, creating capering shadows on the field as you start hanging the wet quilts one by one.

a couple of bees follow you around as you go about your business. and when you stand still to breathe in the smell of freshly washed linen and admire the warm glow cast on those sheets by the light, a butterfly flutters past.

it brings with it the distant ring of a bicycle bell. you look to the east where a man in uniform comes riding up the hill and the smile on your face could bring shame to the flowers lying near your feet.

"good morning", he says, slowing and stopping a foot or two away from you. he tilts his cap and you note the way in which his fringe barely covers his right eye.

"good morning", you reply. "it must be exhausting having to make that trip every day."

he laughs. it's sweet.

"i don't really mind."

in his hand he carries a metal basket and neatly arranged inside are six glass bottles full of milk.

"how many would you like today?", he asks, and you have the urge to tell him you'll take everything he has to offer. but of course, you don't say this aloud.

"just the one, please."

as he picks up one of the bottles to give to you, you swallow your spit and gesture towards your house. the shadows continue to dance above it, making it seem fluid despite its usual rigidity.

"can i get you something to drink? a coffee, perhaps?"

he appears taken aback, eyes widening a fraction before he smiles, and you feel your heart leap into your throat.

"i'd like that very much. a coffee sounds great."

you momentarily freeze, having expected him to refuse your offer. and then you're taking the bottle of milk and your basket back inside as he follows after you. you turn back to him as he enters and the sheets you'd hung flail slightly behind him, almost like a set of wings.

"cream and sugar?"

"um, no. but could i trouble you for some ice?"

an iced americano, you think. placing your basket on the floor and leaving your bottle on the kitchen counter, you busy yourself with preparing his beverage.

"my name is belphegor, by the way. i think you should at least know who it is that's been delivering you your milk."

you pause, having taken a mug out of the cupboard, and meet his gaze. his tone sounds a little indignant. were you simply being sensitive?

"it's a pleasure to officially meet you, belphegor."

the both of you exchange a shared laugh (the sudden bit of formality is embarrassing). he's the first to look away, breaking the eye contact that has goosebumps erupt on your skin. hm, perhaps you were overthinking things. only, the problem is that you're not sure you have any ice in the fridge.

"were you listening to music?"

"yes- oh", you say, confused at the static that greets you. "the program must've finished."

he glances at the radio and then at you. in your bid to locate the instant coffee you have, you don't notice.

through a strange coincidence, you find it sitting pretty on the top-most shelf of the pantry. you frown, wondering if you'd placed it there by mistake.

belphegor is about to open his mouth to speak again when he sees you reach upwards, fingers brushing across the jar mere centimeters out of your grasp. you're on your toes, leaning forward, barely balancing as you try your hardest to take it.

the man remains silent, watching you with a detached type of curiosity.

darn shelves, you think, as you stretch as far as you're physically able. still, the glass slips from between your fingers and you resort to stepping on a sack of flour. right as you grab it, the corner of the sack slides out from underneath your foot and you gasp, knowing all too well how this was going to end.

but there's a hand on your shoulder and a solid chest against your back, and a pleasant voice in your ear that suggests otherwise.

"so much trouble for a coffee."

his breath tickles the nape of your neck and you twist around to thank him, unprepared for the amused expression painting his face. from here, you can see every freckle, every eyelash, and every stray hair left untamed by his cap.

"you okay?", he asks, too close and quiet. too intimate that you forget yourself for a second.

"i'm...i'm fine."

those furrowed brows of his make you think twice and you place a hand to his chest, marveling in its warmth. you can feel his heart beat. it's steady, unfazed by whatever silly accident had happened just now.

"thanks", you mutter, swiftly removing yourself from his arms (firm and inviting). "i'll uhh...i'll make your iced americano, shall i?"

he doesn't say anything as you take a spoon and measure out the ground powder. and the silence lingers as you bring a pot of water to the boil. your thoughts, however, are that much louder, that much more pronounced. you were never one to invite strangers into your home. why was he such an exception?

"you can stop staring."

belphegor chuckles and you hate the fact that you can't ignore it. his laughter, it twinkles, and it has you looking at him all over again.

"i was keeping an eye out for you. in case you decide to make a habit of falling while i'm here."

you scoff, opening the fridge door to remove the ice tray. six cubes blink up at you and you ease three out, popping them into his mug in rapid succession. it's a tad violent and some of the coffee sloshes out onto the counter.

"thank you for your concern. but it's really not necessary."

he walks towards you, and you remain fixed on his bowtie, hoping to avoid being trapped by his alluring purple irises.

"if you say so."

and he takes a sip. and you find a cloth to wipe the spilt coffee with.

"it tastes good", he says. "maybe i should ask you to make me one every morning."

"tough luck", you reply, glancing at him as you clean. "i'm afraid this is the last of my hospitality."

besides, you didn't have it in you to continue acting an utter fool around him. something about his self-assuredness serves as the antithesis to your nervous energy, fueling it further to the point that you're doubtful about whether he'll return tomorrow.

"is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armor?"

oh. nevermind. that question makes you want to slap the handsome smirk off his face.

you give one last swipe of the counter, as if to stand your ground, and straighten up. yet it only leads to disaster.

the lonesome bottle of milk that you'd put atop it, comes crashing down onto the tiles, spraying its contents along every surface and scattering glass shards in its wake. the knot in your stomach tightens and you refuse to acknowledge the man who hasn't budged an inch.

he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"what am i going to do with you?"

as you stoop down to gather the glass, he mirrors you.

"i can-"

"it'll be faster with the two of us."

apparently, it's your turn to watch him. you slow your movements as you focus on his hands, how meticulously they pick up each broken shard and how conflicted you feel about him doing as such. in your daze, the edge of a particularly sharp fragment digs into your thumb and you flinch.

"fuck-"

he reacts before you do, tossing the glass he's holding into the bin and taking your hand in his to help you remove the fragment.

"this might sting", he mutters. that was the last thing on your mind. did this man have no sense of personal space?

the fragment is tossed out with the rest of what used to be the bottle and you're about to reluctantly thank him for a second time until he's bringing your thumb up to his mouth.

"wh- what are you doing?"

he suckles gently on the cut, putting a stop to the bleeding, and you're rendered speechless. when he speaks, all you can think about is his lips.

"can't you be more careful?"

"not with you here, no", you say, finally admitting to the reality that was beginning to suffocate you. you can't pay attention to anything other than him.

"figured it out, have you?"

"figured what out...?", you ask, leaning in as his voice drops to a whisper.

"you have a crush on me."

you stare, perplexed, and you tear your eyes away from his mouth to look at him. there's a secret lingering in his facade. of words unspoken and confessions kept hidden. what does he know?

"prove it", you mumble, perfectly aware of how ridiculous a demand that was.

except he obliges, closing the gap between the both of you and meeting your lips with his own. they're soft and as you snake your hands around his neck, his cap comes loose, falling to join the mess on the floor.

neither of you care to address it and he pulls you back up, hugging you to his front and wrapping his arms around you. it's intoxicating. bitterness lingers on his tongue and there's the faint taste of cigarettes. but you're kissing him like someone starved. or perhaps someone parched.

sparks fly beneath your eyelids and rouge caresses your cheeks. (or was it the ghost of his palm against them?)

there's a need, an intensity to the way he grips you and the way clenches his jaw when you tug at his hair. you match him blow for blow, digging your nails into his shoulder and moaning softly into the kiss.

when you part and rest your forehead against his, you're not the only one who's out of breath.

"belphie", you whisper and the look on his face is a mystery in itself – surprise and longing, haphazardly hidden behind a mask of indifference.

"thank god i brought another five bottles with me, huh?"

[bernardhiking]

Bystré Saddle Loop

Date of hike: August 5, 2017

Country: Slovakia

Region: High Tatras

Trailhead: Strba Pleso (option starting from Solisko chair lift mountain station)

Hike Destination: Bystré Saddle

Distance: 20 km (13 miles)

Elevation difference: 1600 feet (550 meters) from Solisko chair lift

Difficulty: Moderate to advanced.

Having completed a long hike the previous day, we opted to get a little help for today’s hike by taking the chair lift from Strba Pleso up to Solisko, to save some energy for the long haul. 

From Solisko, we took the blue route which skirts the mountainside while descending a few hundred feet to rejoin the main (yellow) trail up to the Wahlenbergovo Lakes. Compared to the hike the previous day to Lake Hincovo, which had been rather crowded from the outset, this trail was less traveled, though we still encountered quite a few fellow hikers. We got the impression that Slovakians thoroughly enjoy hiking in the Tatras—most of the trails were well frequented, and some of them got almost uncomfortably busy with locals coming out in droves to enjoy what may well be the national pastime here.

There are two lakes on the way up to the Bystré Saddle, and our group of four made it together to the lower Wahlenbergovo Lake, which we reached after some serious upward slogging at noon. Here we enjoyed a simple picnic of fruit, cookies, and local sausage, while contemplating the lake and its surrounding rocky heights, dappled by a constantly moving pattern of passing cloud and sunshine. 

The geology of this part of the Tatras is mainly crystalline with some metamorphosed material as well. The Tatras are much older than, say, the Alps or the Himalaya, having been formed initially during the Paleozoic Age (500-250 million years ago). After such long periods of erosion, the peaks are heavily serrated, broken up, and fissured with hardly a smooth vertical rock wall left anywhere. The whole area resembles one vast debris field, strewn over and over with sharp-edged crystalline rocks of all shapes and sizes. 

So, hiking here means skipping and balancing from rock to rock to rock, a bit like on the Appalachian trail, a mountain range resembling the High Tatras in geology and age. It is really quite extreme how there is hardly a stretch of 100 yards at a time that constitutes smooth ground in these parts. You use a whole different hiking approach, constantly looking down at your feet and utilizing different muscles in order to balance and hop from rock to rock rather than stride on level ground.

After our lunch, we split into two groups: Lyra and I were going to see how far we could proceed up toward the pass with our soft tennis shoes, while Liang returned with our friend down to the valley. My goal was to cross over to the next valley and complete the loop, but given our flimsy shoe work, I had my doubts whether we would be able to complete the project; I was not going to take stupid risks just because we did not have room in our luggage to bring proper boots along with us.

Half an hour after leaving the lower lake, we reached the upper Wahlenbergovo Lake which resembled the first one like a twin: almost black water embedded in distinctively greenish boulder fields. The characteristic greenish hue that covers the landscape here comes from the lichen which grow profusely on the rocks all around. 

The lakes, or tarns, here are linked with streams, although one wonders where the water is coming from in the first place since there are barely any snow fields left at this time of year to provide meltwater, and all the surrounding consists of dry rocks.

After we skirted the second lake, the trail turned sharply upward toward the saddle, zig-zagging at an increasingly steep grade. 

Here the proverbial wheat was being separated from the chaff, as Lyra and I ascended at a steady pace, passing clumps of other hikers who were resting to catch their breath. Soon, we reached the steepest portion of the slope right underneath the saddle, and to my surprise we faced a fixed chain to haul ourselves up the last, steep portion of the route. 

This created a bit of a traffic jam, and I was reminded of Hillary Step on Mount Everest, that notorious bottle neck which holds up many climbers at a crucial stage of the climb in the “Death Zone” just underneath the summit. This jam in the Tatras merely meant an added quarter of an hour or so on the clock rather than life or death. But it nevertheless created some tension. One women coming down was gripped by a panic attack as she faced a drop of several meters, and I watched her beginning to hyperventilate. I quickly hauled myself up halfway toward her using the chain, then gained a foothold and reached my hand out to guide her down. 

Boy, I have not been gripped so hard by a woman’s hand since Liang gave birth to Lyra... This woman’s muscles were stiff with fear, but I managed to lower her down past the drop and onto the hiking path. Then, I quickly hauled myself up and took the next few chain segments in stride, only to realize that Lyra with her shorter legs did not have the extension necessary to take the last long stride upward, so I gave her my hand and pulled her up. 

Now we stood at the comb of the saddle, and the gap in the rock through which everybody had to squeeze was not wider than one person. 

Unexpectedly, the drop on the other side of the saddle was even steeper than the one we had just mastered, and there were fixed chains on that side too. When I saw folks climbing up toward me with mountaineering helmets, it hit me that wearing sneakers and city clothes in this location was a bit out of place. 

Quite a long line of people was cued up on the other side, waiting to ascend along the fixed chains. I was guilty of holding them up just a little longer since I had to look at the view that greeted us there. From the saddle, one could see past the first mountain range into further ranges receding into the distance, a sere vertical landscape overtopped by light blue sky and floating clouds. Down below embedded in the white-greenish rocky desert lay several opal tarns of intense blue-green-black hues. We stood still for a moment contemplating this stunning view, but hikers on both sides of the narrow gap were pressing forward, wanting to pass through the narrow gap, so we could only snap a quick picture before facing the descent. Fortunately, there were two chains next to each other here, so all hikers did not have to use the same chain to move up and down. The only problem on the way down was that scraping along the rock facing forward was not safe while wearing a backpack, so I strapped the backpack to my front, grabbed the chain, and stretched out my feet feeling for a foothold. I was a bit concerned about Lyra at this point, but she reassured me in calm tones that she was perfectly fine. What a relief! We more slithered than climbed down along the near-vertical track here, using whatever foothold we could find. After about 20 yards of this scrambling, we rejoined the trail and had now a better opportunity to enjoy the spectacular scenery while snapping some more pictures.

From here, we could see four opal tarns, lined up at the floor of Mlinicka Valley. The trail continued to be steep and rocky all the way down to the fourth lake, with only short stretches of flat ground now and then. At the fourth lake, we took a rest to drink water and munch on some sweets to supply a bit of instant energy. The sky was clearing up, and a soft late afternoon glow was spreading over the scene, creating a supremely peaceful atmosphere. 

After this, the trail turned into the Vodopak Skok section, which is named after the waterfall that cascades down the rocks at this point. 

Here we encountered another set of fixed chains for support, as the trail once again turned steeper than is considered normal for regular hiking. The bottom of the waterfall was quite crowded, as many hikers go only this far from the town of Strba Pleso to enjoy the waterfalls, and then turn around.

The last few miles of the hike were enjoyable for the wildflowers which grew abundantly in this part of the valley and for the changing scenery. 

At one point, we spotted some climbers suspended on a vertical cliff, their neon-colored jerseys contrasting sharply with the black rock. It was one of the few places where the rock had not been eroded and cracked into fragments, affording a solid enough surface for rock climbing. We arrived tired but satisfied at the start of the route in the late afternoon, some six hours after taking the chair lift from here. It would have been preferable to wear sturdier shoes on this relatively demanding, steep hike, but with proper care and experience, it had been just about OK to complete the loop with inferior footwork (and we were not the only ones to do so...). Of course, this was only possible because the path was not wet at any portion and because the trail was well maintained, with many of the steepest portions turned into a kind of natural stair by having rock slabs arranged to form steps. Given the heavy use that these trails get in this region, this is a very wise approach, and we were generally impressed by the signage and good maintenance of the hiking trails in this area—the very opposite of hiking trails in Sichuan.

One of the biggest attractions of the High Tatras is that many of the peaks are climbable. However, to go past the lakes and the occasional pass, as we did, and proceed up to the very summits of mountains, one definitely needs proper hiking boots, there is not two-ways about it. So, as far as this region is concerned, we have left something undone—climbing a peak or two (say Rysy or Krivan), and I would not mind at all to return at some future point with hiking boots in the luggage as well as hiking poles. In all, although devoid of glaciers and eternal snow and ice, the High Tatras are an attractive and rewarding hiking destination, despite being somewhat tiring given that all trails proceed over piles of jagged rocks; but the clear air, sweeping views, and opal lakes more than make up for the hardship of rock-hopping.

[sealnarcisa]

Kyle Woodward’s final blog post from Southern Africa. My visa issue finally got resolved, albeit with quite a lot of effort and frustration on my part. Unfortunately they couldn't swap my business visa for a tourist visa while in the country and the only way to fix it was to leave the country and come back in. Luckily Zimbabwe is just a 10 minutes drive to the border. It also just happens that the Zambia/Zimbabwe border is right at Victoria Falls. The border bridge is a tourist attraction, where people zip-line across the gorge and bungee jump off the bridge. Walking across the bridge with Victoria Falls as a backdrop was an unexpexted and surreal moment, and i made sure to take my time walking across both ways. It was a much needed stress reliever. The Falls are so close to you as you walk toward the Zimbabwe border post that the mist creates a perpetual light rain. Having not seen or felt rain in 2 months I was very confused at first. Since i got my necessary tasks done on Friday, I decided to go see the Falls properly all day on Saturday. I was going to be a tourist for a day, so exciting! On Saturday I had a relaxing morning and got a shuttle to the Victoria Falls Park entrance. I met another friend from the same hostel, and we hiked all the trails together. The Knife's Edge trail leads you out on a narrow peice of land thats been carved away by the Falls over time. It's the closest you can get to the Falls, and when you get out onto the edge you are completely soaked in a matter of seconds. Its like walking into a category 1 hurricane: the force of the water falling into the gorge creates a powerful uplift of air that shoots the trailing mist straight back to the top of the gorge, creating a barrage of wind and rain. There is no escape, and we willingly walked out to meet it in our bare feet and cheap ponchos. It is one of the best 20 bucks ive ever spent, and somehow my passport didn't even get wet. On our way down a separate trail to the bottom of the gorge, we were ambushed by a massive male baboon. We learned quite quickly that its not wise to carry food or drinks out in the open in this park because of these guys. We dropped our bottles of soda in order to avoid being mauled. It was actually terrifying in the moment but we laughed about it later. It was pretty funny watching this baboon open our soda bottles, dump out a ton of orange Fanta and sit there slurping it off the ground. On Sunday I went to the bus station at noon to catch my bus back to Sesheke, only to find out that the 12:00 bus i had purchased a seat on had left at 10:30 just because it got there early. It was another lesson in how things work out here: Disorder and unreliable public services create enough inevitable inconveniences in day to day life that society has adapted in order to provide quick and easy solutions. One of the bus company managers immediately took my money back from the attendant and drove me in his own car to the outskirts of town where a bunch of vans wait all day to give rides at the same or cheaper rate. He paid the van driver my bus money, I hopped in, and within a half hour we were on the way to Sesheke. We even got there right around the same time my bus would have. I met up with Michael and one of our enumerators in the afternoon and we drove back up to Sioma District for the night. The next day we drove the 1.5 hour journey into the bush to Makande. The drive seems to take forever as we creep along through a narrow sandy track, dodging trees and trying not to get stuck. Even with a 4wd truck it's not easy to get to by any means, yet people live here the same way as those right on the tar road in Lusu, Kaale, and Kalobolelwa. It's a remarkable thing seeing these communities operate with little to no outside aid. The idea that one can create and maintain their entire livelihood from the surrounding natural resources is so foreign to me, as I presume it is for many other 'Westerners'. Your health (ability to perform manual labor) and work ethic (determination to do so) hold greatest weight in village life. Lin, Michael, and I split our enumerators into teams of 2 for the first day of household surveys, then the second day Lin and I finished the rest of the surveys and did reference samples while Michael worked on resource area mapping. It went by so quick that I found myself scrambling on the last day to take a few pictures to remember this experience by. My pictures are mediocre at best, but Im pretty sure I won't ever forget this. Our last night camping in Makande was so fun. We ended the month of work talking, joking, singing, and dancing around our campfire, trading ideas, experiences, and standing on common ground. We also chased this weird goat around that kept walking into our camp. It was the funniest thing ever. No matter how far we chased it away from our camp, it would eventually wander back and stand there just staring at us. If they make another Disney movie based in Africa (shout out Lion King), this goat needs to be the typecast dumb animal comic relief character. The long weekend was spent back in our home sweet home, Sesheke. Michael needed to finish resource area mapping in Lusu, and Lin and i decided to collect more reference samples in Kalobolelwa, so we decided to set up at our usual campground in town. We took one of our enumerators along who wants to study environmental science, and he absorbed all the vegetation and GPS stuff like a sponge. It was a really fun day just walking around, seeing different landscapes, and talking about plants. Since we were officially done with the Zambia field season by the end of that day, we got to be lazy the next day in Sesheke. We walked around the market, bought some food and gifts, learned how to play Zambian rules Checkers, and had a good dinner in town. This past Sunday turned out to be a really special day, and may turn out to be one of the most important for future research pursuits in Zambia. Henry from DNPW allowed us to come along with him into Sioma-Ngwezi NP, where they are working on re-introducing wildlife the next 4 years. They created a fenced-in 100 hectare enclosure for the animals which they use to acclimate them before releasing them into the park. They had about 180 impala and 32 buffalo that they transported there a few weeks ago, and we got to come along on their weekly check up. We got to stand in their pickup truck bed as we patrolled inside the fence perimeter, trying to spot and count all the buffalo and impala. Michael and I came up with another research idea pretty organically as we chatted about the wildlife re-introduction process and the ways they currently monitor wildlife numbers in the park. The folks at DNPW and WWF sound quite keen to begin some research collaboration this coming year with us, and I'm glad Michael and I prioritized time to build those relationships. On Monday we said goodbye to Lin as she headed back to Botswana, then Michael and I drove to Livingstone. Having been in Livingstone last weekend, I already knew what it was like, so it was really great seeing Michael be totally blown away by all the city people, restaurants, shops, and 2 story buildings. We had fun wandering around, getting lost, and eating a ton of really good food. We have a special place in our hearts for Sesheke, but it is by no means a city. The fact that Sesheke ever felt like a city to us speaks to how much time we have spent in remote areas of rural Zambia. We felt like the Zambian village children this time, amazed to see so many white people in one place. I'm writing this on my flight back home and reflecting on all of the new and unique experiences I've had these past two months: flying drones in the Chobe river floodplain in Botswana, digging ourselves out of the sand more times than i can count, being immersed in village life and the language, playing sports with village children in Kapau and Makande, crossing international borders on my own, learning to drive stick in Zambia, and many others. They've all offered an opportunity to learn, challenge my own paradigms, and grow into a more worldly and introspective person. Southern Africa has given me so much, and I am eager to give back in any way an academic researcher can. I am so grateful to Dr. Pricope and all of the KAZAVA collaborators for supporting me and allowing me into their network. Michael gets a special shout out; we started out as two unacquainted grad students working on the same project, but by experiencing all the challenges and joys of a productive field season, we became both an unstoppable duo and great friends. I'm excited to pursue some of the research ideas we have developed in Zambia together. Lastly, for anyone who has not yet stepped foot on the African continent, this is my 5 star recommendation. It turns out Africa is huge and offers so much to the new traveller: the diverse cultures, the wildlife, and spectacular landscapes. I've only seen small parts of 3 countries, but I'm obsessed now. Africa will be high on my list for travelling the rest of my life, and I will do everything I can to get family and friends to experience it as well. Kyle Woodward.