way to tired to think up an original title right now.

Wow. Wow. I don't know what else to write except wow. But I shall try.

Still in Swaziland (a small country in the North-Easter corner of South Africa). I signed up for a full day quad bike tour. Had a little sleep in today till 7:15am. After I dressed and ate breakfast, I frantically rushed around trying to organize something for Saturday. Calling, calling, no answer. Asking questions, no one knew any answers. I was dismayed. But I guess sometimes when things don't work out it's for the better. I was going to change hostels and organize a trip to Mantega falls ( an apparently beautiful but touristy hotspot. I meet a couple of very interesting Swazi's today and have been given the opportunity to go up the mountain and stay at a local homestead that sits just above Swazi's most spiritually sacred waterfalls. The anticipation of meeting this woman is making me unable to think, let-a-lone write. Although perhaps the fear of the resident leopard and having to walk unarmed through its territory also has something to do with it.

Let me re-wind to the start of the day. So three of us were picked up by Richard, the owner of 'quad trails' at 8am. I pulled on the door handle of his ute. Once. Twice. Third time lucky. The thing came unstuck. I climbed in the front seat pushing the discarded cigarette packets and scraps of fabric out of the way, not noticing the thin film of dust coating the seat and dashboard. As I pulled out a cigarette (yes unfortunately, after having given up for four weeks I have began smoking again), Richard leaned across me, shoved his hand in the small gap between the top of the side window and the door frame and gave it a couple of heavy shoves until it slid down half way.

“Great. Thanks.”

Richard then proceeded to give myself and the couple sitting in the back a rundown of Swaziland's history, his hands apparently being needed more in the explanation then on the steering wheel. We passed around a couple of tools, some such-and-such million years old, as he explained they were made by not even us Homo-Sapiens but whichever -Sapiens (I cannot recall their name) that came before. One avocado stall stop and ute-trek fifteen minutes up the mountain side later, we arrived at a homestead. One rooster, three chickens, about thirteen baby chickens, and just as many children (literally) came running over to greet us. More than a handful of dogs stood by, watching from the sidelines. Richard departed and left us in the hands of Zen, the eldest of the thirteen children of the family, and the one who fed and washed everyone since their mother died three months ago. Zen gave us an introduction to quad bike riding, and we each had a few practice laps around the backyard, which happened to have a (20m?) waterfall in it (as you do).

After a quick cup of tea, enjoyed over a view of Ezwuilini Valley, we were ready to head off. We soared, well Zen soared, the rest of us trawled, through a maze of dirt yellow brick roads, rivers, rocks and trees. Every km or so a small army of little black faces waving their white palms at us would bring us to a stop as we smacked hi-fives and engraved their huge smiles onto our camera memory cards.

At around 12:30pm Zen did the hand gesture for slow down out ahead of us, and we all came to a stop beneath a huge Accachia tree as an elderly woman and a gray and white kitten barely reaching her ankles plodded in an attempted run up a small hill to greet us. Zen explained that she would serve us lunch, but first we would take a walk to the nearby waterfalls.

Wow. Again. Wow. I thought baths were quite a spectacular luxury, but these waterfalls put all of the hot water, bubble suds, and bath oils at home to shame. Somehow we managed to climb on all fours down towards the bottom of the water falls. The four of us sat there, enjoying the fresh air as we inhaled a little cancer, upon an over-hanging tree branch.
“Is it clean?” I think I already knew the answer but I seem to have an insatiable need for certainty in life.
“Oh. Yes. Is clean totally.”
I first dared to put my hands in. The temperature made the hairs on my arms prick up but it felt so good. I scoped up a cupful of the crystal water in my hands and dropped it over my head. Refreshed after a few minutes paddling, I went back to the branch with the others. I sat there thinking, wow, this is amazing, I may never get the chance to come back here.
“Can I go swimming?”
“But its freezing.”
“Yes, I know, but can I go swimming anyway?”
“Yes, of course”

I stripped off my long-sleeve top, leaving everything else on. I slipped back in, the water meeting my knees. I shivered as I stepped in further til I was bum-deep. I stopped thinking for a minute, and just let go. The water was freezing, I was drenched, having dunked right under, but I felt so alive (just to through in a cliché).

Anyway, I am really way to excited to sit here writing any longer. I must go shower and organize my next adventure for tomorrow. I am going to visit what the Swazi's call 'the entry port to the spiritual world' (400m away from the lady's homestead I will be staying at). It is going to be a special day.

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