Jambo (that means "hello" in Swahili)

This is my first post from Africa, and I have to warn you that I'm a little drunk. Kilimanjaro beer. Safari beer. N'Dovu beer. Is that it? I can't remember. Anyway, I had this grand plan of chronicling each and every step of the way as it happened, but am chucking that idea and just blogging freestyle. There's gonna be tons of misspellings, typos, and straight-up made-up words. Completely unforgivable coming from a copywriter. But I quit that job. So I can do whatever I want.

Moment of epiphany: I'm on Day 5--summit day--on Kilimanjaro. I can't breathe and am a gazillion miles higher than any rational human being should ever be. It's like I'm horribly drunk, hungover, and just plain sick all at the same time. Yet I still feel amazing. It's the weirdest cocktail of physical agony and mental ecstasy I've every come across. And my thoughts have all gone crazy. As I plod along by headlamp (it's 3:00 in the morning and pitch black), I remember my Mom telling me that every moment of happiness in this life is a choice. One that I have to make for myself. And that's what I'm doing. This ain't no Eat, Pray, Love. It's no journey to "find" myself. It's just me following some good advice and choosing to be happy. And at this particular moment in the universe, I'm really, really happy.

Climbing mantra: (1) I swear on the sword of my father, Domingo Mantoya, you will reach the top alive. (2) Hiiiiiighway to the danger zone. Da da da. We're on a highway to the DANGER ZONE. (thanks, Paul, for that). (3) Clarisse. (that's it. Just the name Clarisse over and over again in Anthony Hopkins' voice).

Just for shits (literally): Some people who hike Kili hire a private toilet for $100. This means a poor porter has to haul a bucket in a fancy tent up almost 20,000 feet so that the delicate backside of a climber never has to hover over a hole in the ground like the rest of us schmucks. The funny thing is--it's a bucket! You're pooping into a bucket! Anyway, I and my fellow climbers (Paul, Rob, and Janet) found this endlessly amusing and were making fun for hours. Cut to the middle of the night, when it's my delicate backside hovered over a hole in the ground. Just as I'm congratulating myself on my improving aim and toned leg muscles, I turn to find Mr. Hankey's Tanzanian cousin lounging poolside. Oh. Dear. Lord. Did I really just do that? Yes. I did. I obviously couldn't just leave him there to enjoy his Kilimanjaro vacation, so I gently rolled him into the pool with an ever-handy wet wipe--the world's most magnificent invention of all time. Ever. and then I thoroughly scrubbed myself with about ten more. Anyway, so much for aim. I was oscillating between absolute horror that I'd just shat on the floor and absolute hysterics that I'd just shat on the floor. Meanwhile, Karma was weighing my predicament alongside my previous snarky comments about the personal toilet people, and I like to think that it all came out a wash in the end.

Pooping in general: We talk about it non-stop. Farting, too. It's like personal boundaries completely fly out the window when you're unbathed and sharing close quarters with strangers who are soon to become your best friends.

Travelling friends: I honestly don't even know what to say. This could get really sentimental, so I'm going to keep it short and hold the best bits back for myself. Because no one else can really understand how I feel about the people I've just spent the past week with. There's Rob and Janet, the Canadian couple who biked across Tibet with their two young children and are now spending their retirement in an equally exciting manner. There's Sylvester, my guide, the nicest, sweetest man alive. And then there's Paul. Have you ever met someone who you've felt like you've known forever and will know for the rest of your life? That's Paul. We were meant to be friends.

Random encounters: Paul and I were going into town on an errand when we bumped into an American doctor and nurse couple who started an orphanage here in Tanzania. They gave us a ride, offered Paul a place to stay tomorrow night, and went out for beers with us after our errands. All the while telling us stories of their incredible lives. It kind of blows my mind. And makes me wonder what I've been doing with my own life up to this point. Best of all, I got to ride a Piki Piki (motorcycle taxi), which just topped off and already perfect day.

Kilimanjaro: Just look at some pictures. My words are inadequate, and things like "amazing," "spectacular," and "breathtaking" all tend to lose meaning after a while. Don't get me wrong--it's all those and more. I just don't want to attempt a description that can never live up to reality.

Tired: I am. And I have to catch a bus back to Nairobi at six in the morning. So I'm signing off now. More to come whenever I have time and an internet connection. No idea when I'll be able to post pictures. Like an idiot, I didn't think that far in advance.