“You don’t just visit South Africa. You fall into it heart first—so deep and forever I changed.” -unknown

And the adventure begins. After a 15 hour flight and a few hours of sleep we headed off for Kruger National Park. The drive started with a very flat, dry landscape and turned into mountains and a fascinating drive through the park. We left the city for the country. 

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It happened before I even made it through the gates.

We stopped on the bridge just outside Kruger National Park, expecting a quick glance, maybe a photo. What I didn’t expect was to feel something crack wide open in me.

Below the bridge, the river wound its way through the dry landscape—wide, slow, and shimmering under the African sun. It was peaceful, but alive. And there, along the shoreline, they appeared—hippos, lounging together in the shallow water and stretched out across the muddy riverbank.

Their huge, rounded forms looked like ancient sculptures, but it was their pink bellies that stopped me. Soft, exposed, glowing faintly in the light—they added this surprising sweetness. They looked oddly content, piled close together in the warm sun completely unbothered by the world. There was something strangely intimate about it.

And then I said it, almost laughing: “Hippopotamus.”

Not like I’d said it before. This time it came out in awe. Like the word itself was part of the magic.

Just beyond them, impala moved gently through the grass—delicate and alert, catching the sun on their sleek coats. Nearby, crocodiles lay motionless, also sunning themselves, their armored backs blending into the riverbank. At first I didn’t even notice them—until I did, and then I couldn’t not see them. They were eerie and fascinating, ancient-looking and incredibly still. The kind of stillness that makes you feel the power just beneath the surface.

Then, as if to balance all that grounded stillness, a fish eagle soared overhead—its wings wide and commanding. In the shallows below, a grey heron waded slowly and purposefully through the water, all grace and patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And all of this—all of it—was just from the bridge.

We hadn’t even entered Kruger, and yet I already felt undone. Not in a dramatic, life-flashing-before-my-eyes kind of way. It was gentler than that. More like something inside me recognized this place. Like my heart had been waiting for it.

I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to speak. I just stood there, overwhelmed with gratitude—not just for what I was seeing, but for the fact that I got to be there at all. That, for one fleeting moment, I was a witness to this wild, untouched beauty.

That bridge wasn’t just a crossing point. It was a beginning.

Because you don’t just visit South Africa.

You fall into it—heart first. So deep and so suddenly, you don’t even realize it’s happening until you’ve already changed. Forever, and beautifully, unknown.