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The next leg of my African journey was going to be a continuation from Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania, through Southern Tanzania, across Zambia and into Zimbabwe, ending in Harare. Yet again, for a second time in my African traverse, politics reared its ugly head in the form of post election violence and instability in Tanzania, coupled with a UK Foreign Office travel advisory discouraging "all but essential travel" to the country that I cycled through blissfully last year up to Dodoma. Hence, I was forced to execute plan B - ride from Harare instead, heading South, with the full intention on doing the omitted Tanzania-Zimbabwe sector another day. I was disappointed, but grateful for having an alternative. I rerouted my flights and was ready for a visit to Harare, where I spent my A-level years, surrounded by African sunshine and Jacaranda trees in bloom.

Leaving home was hard, as always. It never gets easier, and the apprehension felt at the start of every tour was as fresh as always. I was leaving the comforts of home, Alks' ever stimulating and joyous company and the luxury of my western world existence, for another lonely adventure. As always, questions resonated in my mind. 

I arrived in Harare as the rainy season was in full swing. A thunderstorm welcomed me as I hired a taxi to take me, my bike and luggage to the New Ambassador Hotel in the city centre. The hotel's name conjures up images of grandeur... the reality was a clean, cosy, quiet establishment with extremely friendly and helpful staff. I settled in, feeling exhausted from the flights during which I had not slept much at all. I decided yo stay 2 nights yo acclimatise and get over my jet lag. It felt strange being back in Harare after 24 years. A lot had changed, and a lot hadn't.  Zimbabwe had been through well known economic destruction, and the signs were ever present in the pot holed streets, tired colonial buildings and weary faces everywhere. But at the same time, there was a glimmer of hope that was evident in a newly established US Dollar economy. Zimbabwe now ran on the coveted USD, with the Zimbabwe Dollar being printed in such small numbers that even street vendors didn't use them. US Dollars meant that shops had food on the shelves, people had clothes on their backs and food in their bellies, all of which were nonexistent during the economic crash of the last 20 years. My taxi driver explained to me " Now, all we have to worry about is hussling to make money. Once we have that money, we can buy food. In the past, we had trillions of Zimbabwe Dollars in our pockets, but supermarkets were empty! Life is much better now." I let that sink in as I watched the rain fall over a city that was my home for 4 years, 40 years ago.

That evening, two of my closest school friends, Elesh and JJ, took me out for a delicious Chinese meal. We chatted about old times, like those times happened yesterday and we had never been apart. 

The next day, I woke feeling rested and put the bike together, and ventured out on a nostalgic spin around Harare. My first stop was Harare Sports Club, where Dad and I imposed our brown faces amongst the white faces during social tennis every Saturday afternoon. I will always remember how Dad refused to be phased or intimidated by the racial prejudice we were subjected to, back in those days. Next, I rode to St George's College, my A-level abode, where so much was learnt and so much fun was had. I bumped into the head teacher, John Farrelly, who very kindly gave me an hour long tour down memory lane. St George's will always be a special place for me, so please excuse the abundance of photos that I took during the tour! It felt special visiting the labs and classrooms that I once sat in as an 18 year old student. After chatting to the groundsmen looking after the immaculate rugby pitches, I pedalled my way to Hillside,  and 10 Newmarch Ave, our family home in Harare. The property was better looked after by the new inhabitants than by us, and I spent minutes reminiscing, reminding myself that dear Dad and Mum worked so hard to keep us all comfortable. I visited Braeside Church, where Alks and I had our church wedding blessing, and then the Dominican Convent where my sisters studied and Mum taught. That afternoon, I dropped in to see some old family friends, the D'Souzas, also on Hillside, and in the evening I met Elesh and his wife and parents, before having dinner with JJ and his wife. 

An eventful day concluded with a call to Alks (which happens daily) and a scan of tomorrow's route South.