So, I’m here. At the Korea Garden Lodge and heading to Mulanje in the am.
Fewer trees. Stiflingly hot. I feel very out of place but I suppose that’s because I am. I don’t feel as safe as I used to, which is a real shame. But maybe it’s me.
Some changes for the better, though. Less outright begging. Less garbage heaped in the streets. The informal market is now a more formal one, though too small.
Lilongwe is haunted for me though, with the people I spent my time with. I can’t close my eyes but I see them. I miss you, Marta and Jo and Jovie and everyone. It’s hard to be in a place that was HOME, and know nobody.
Miss you, Jim, my lovely. Wish you could be here.