Every weekend Noortje and I have been able
to escape from some of the misery in the hospital to a bit of Malawian
paradise. Though the trip did at times involve encounters with Malawian
immigration with empty threats of being detained, bumpy and overcrowded
transportation, the final destination was always well worth the journey.
We travelled a weekend to Livingstonia, a
town in the North founded by Scottish missionaries. We stayed in an incredibly
innovative local lodge run by a Congolese man who supplied the lodge with a
local permaculture garden. The front of our tent was made of glass which led to
our beautiful balcony overlooking the tropical valley, Tanzania, and Lake
Malawi. Another weekend we drove to
Chinteche, a remote beachfront where we found ourselves completely alone along
Lake Malawi and had the chance to try freshly caught Chombe, the local fish.
On the return from Livingstonia our
peaceful state was quickly disrupted during the trip home. We travelled by
minibus (local transportation) filled with 22 people (maximum capacity should
be 12), one man was hanging with half his body out of the window in order to
fit, plates and bags of fish filled the bus with a strong fishy odor, two
adults sat on my lap and a chicken bounced up and down on my foot.
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