Namibia, I think I love you.

And here’s why:

Watering hole in Etosha. Even though I’d already seen the Big 5 in any number of national parks throughout East Africa, Etosha in Namibia was really something special. Namibia, as a whole, is an incredibly dry country, so by simply waiting at a watering hole, you’re bound to see something good. And we did. Rhinos. Zebras. Giraffes. Elephants. Gemboks. Springboks. Jackals. Even the ever-elusive honey badger (and yes, he nasty). Our guide told us to be sure not to fall asleep by a watering hole because two years ago a cat-napping tourist was eaten by a lion. Speaking of which, we could hear the lions roaring all night from the safety (ok, no, it wasn’t really that safe) of our tents. T.I.A.

Sandboarding in Swakopmund. For a long time, Namibia was considered to be not much more than extension of South Africa, and you’ll find a huge Dutch/Afrikaans influence just about everywhere you go. It also bears a heavy German imprint even though the Germans were kicked out sometime after WWII. And nothing’s more German than Swakopmund—the adventure capital of Namibia. Located on the Atlantic Ocean, Swakopmund—or Swako to the locals— is a pretty little tourist town mere minutes from the famous dunes of the Namib Desert. You drive down flat, dusty roads and then…there they are. It’s like they appear out of thin air. Spectacular rolling red dunes—beautiful to look at, but a bitch to hike up. Especially wearing snowboarding boots.

And that’s what sandboarding is—snowboarding on a dune. Actually, sandboarding encompasses sledding as well, which is what I had originally intended to do, but once again I was swayed by the power of suggestion and opted for the stand-up version instead.

As we pulled up to the slope and I realized that they expected me to slide down a 45 degree angle on little more than a stick, my constant constipation was almost instantly cured. I was terrified. It was a broken neck waiting to happen. Nonetheless, I slogged my way up to the top in the blazing sun, listened to the little how-to, and gamely set about trying not to die. I gotta tell you, trying not to die is surprisingly fun. I was embarrassingly bad, but loved it so much that I went back for a second day—and even attempted the jump.

I now actually look forward to winter in New Zealand so that I can give real snowboarding a go. I think I’m hooked.

Dune 45. The most famous in all of Namibia, Dune 45 is in Sossusvlei, a beautiful desert region that used to be under the ocean a couple of million years ago. And even though I’d been climbing up and down sand dunes for the past two days, I was still enthused to wake up at 5 in the morning to climb 45 just in time to catch the sunrise.

Since arriving in Africa, I’ve become acutely aware of sunrises and sunsets. It’s like this continent revolves around an entirely different raging ball of fire than the rest of the world. And it’s way more beautiful. Or maybe I’m just taking the time to appreciate it, whereas I’d likely be sitting on the couch watching The Biggest Loser during the sunset at home. At any rate, sunrise over the Namib is so incredible, it’s a coffee table photography book waiting to happen. Every now and again, I pause and think, “This is what makes life worth living.” And for now, “this” is Dune 45.

Sossusvlei. More than anything, I love Sossusvlei for its name. I never pronounce it correctly, however, I never tire of hearing others say it.