I am not a lover of spontaniety. Or taking risks. Or being outside of my comfort zone.
An example of my ridiculousness - until the age of 18 I refused to mix flavours in my food. Sauce? Don't even go there. Meat touching the vege? What an insult! It wasn't until I embarked on my obligatory Contiki tour of Europe (a [drunken] rite of passage for any Australian teenager) and couldn't speak a word of French/Italian/miscellaneous language that I begrudgingly began to become slightly more adventurous with my food. It was either play menu roulette and choose something which sounded like it contained the least ingredients... or starve (not that I'm dramatic or anything). Let's just say I was probably the only Aussie to return from my grandes vacances without a case of the dreaded Heathrow injection.
You can therefore imagine my anguish at the fact that in two weeks time I'll be jumping on a plane to Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, having never been to Africa before, with no idea who will be collecting me from the airport, no idea who I'm staying with and having just learnt that fried catepillars are a popular delicacy with Zambians (cheers for that one, Google).
Naturally, given the lack of information, I've done what any respectable control freak would do. I've built some lists.
Whilst this seems to have settled the mild case of anxiety which was creeping in, the scariest part about this journey is that I'm actually starting to get excited. Me! Little old 'do not even dare take me out of my comfort zone' me is excited about a solo adventure into deepest, darkest and -because it's currently wet season - soggiest Africa. It may be because I'm thinking about all the totes amazing Instragram material I'll collect for my feed (I jest), but regardless of the cause, I am so proud of myself for even putting my hand up to embark on this journey with Barefeet and TIE. Here's to new beginnings, new adventures and to a future love for fried catepillars (*cue dry retching*).