Driving to the Mozambique border through Kruger National Park. Having to stop and wait as two massive bull elephants walk towards us down the road in that unbreakable rhythm of long distance travel.
Driving the long road to Sao Sabastiao past lively markets, trucks piled with charcoal or coconuts, potholes and acres of coconut palms that reach to the horizon.
Stopping to buy piri piri (hot chilli sauce) at a roadside stall, only to have it explode like a roman candle when we open it at the table days later, drenching everyone and their food in red liquid spray.
Mozambique and the tropical sea turned to glass. The black silhouetted shapes of fishing dhows crease the mirrored water - their sails sharp like a lions claw or the hooks on a palm frond. Sea and horizon meet at a vaguely discernable point about half way.
Canoeing in mangroves flooded by the solstice high tides. Sneaking up on herons, egrets and plovers that roost on the islands of trees. Slipping over barely submerged aerial roots of mangroves, encrusted with barnacles. Looking down on schools of silver fish that flit through the sunlit water under the canoes.
Watching the dhow fishermen trawl the reefs and floodplains endlessly - hauling in acres of fish nets while sunlight bounces in shards of light all around them.
It is visiting the school at Matsopane Village to deliver letters from America, and a pile of new stationary - kids laughing and playing around you, while others watch with solemn concentration to hear about their new friends in USA.
It is sunsets and moonrise, and starscapes that dazzle the brain. It is time with friends. It is sand between the toes, pansy shells and starfish, and snorkelling on a reef full of wonder.
Mozambique - it is things like that.