A few weeks ago my wife and I went on a safari in South Africa. It was one of the most wonderful and eye opening experiences I’ve ever had for many reasons, but I was struck most by how “untouched” the landscape was. Being out there in the middle of nowhere, hours away from grocery stores, hospitals, buildings more than one story high, you get a sense for what parts of the earth looked like before humans arrived. We spent many exciting hours in the back of an open air truck, driving along dirt “roads" in pursuit of animals. We were fortunate to be led on a “bush walk” with a master guide, discovering a large footprint which over the course of an hour or two, would take us inside the head and eventually to within a few feet of a large bull giraffe. There are very few experiences that compare to being within a few feet of an elephant, a lion or a heard of zebras standing in front of hundreds of impala. Over the course of three days, I did not see a single piece of trash or any sign of human presence outside of camp, something I have not experienced for as long as I can remember. We spend most of our time in cities, so landscapes with nothing but vegetation are not something I am accustomed to seeing. Even in the mountains of Peru while trekking toward Machu Picchu, there were ample signs of human life, from random bits of trash to small encampments to outhouses built for hikers which flush waste directly into the ground.

Immediately following our safari, we flew to the tiny island of Zanzibar, surrounded by the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Tanzania. In a different way, we experienced a representation of what life might have looked like before the advent of modern-day conveniences. To get from our “luxury” apartment (no A/C, no microwave, no oven but nevertheless beautiful) to the beach, we had to wind our way along an unmarked path strewn with rocks, animal droppings and a great deal of garbage. In one section, adjacent to someone’s house, a large pile of trash would be set ablaze a few days per week. The following day, several disturbingly-thin looking cows could be found be grazing among the smoldering remains. Further along the path, in what appeared to be someone else's backyard, there was an open cesspool of sewage. Homes were lit by candlelight at nighttime due to lack of power in the village.Drinking the tap water (for Westerners) was out of the question. Despite these realities, the beaches themselves were pristine and everyone we encountered was friendly and upbeat. No doubt this was in large part because we were very obviously tourists. However, the people seemed to be genuinely enjoying life, happy to share their culture with visitors.

What I took away from these events is just how much waste we create through our daily lives, and how we take for granted basic services such as garbage removal or potable water. Imagine for a moment what life would be like if these things disappeared. As trash cans begin to overflow, would you drive it away from your home and dump it somewhere yourself? What if there were no designated dump sites? What if all you had was a bicycle instead of a car? In the absence of drinkable tap water, most people simply purchase bottled water (we did this in Tanzania, Morocco, Ukraine). What if the only “drinking” water available was sold off the back of a truck a few times a day by men of dubious countenance? Perhaps this explains some of why apocalyptic films and shows, especially those that are hyper-realistic, are wildly popular. While no one would actually want to experience those environments, people are fascinated by what life would be like if our current societal framework were destroyed.

I recently finished The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton, and while parts of it were a difficult read, the overall theme was to expound on the benefits of travel, from the anticipation that begins immediately after you’ve booked accommodations somewhere exciting to the unlimited possibilities that airports and train stations provide to the ways that destinations ultimately differ from our expectations. All of this rings true to me. In general, our own travels have been confined to well-known cities in countries that are considered safe. Often times we go from Airbnbs to airports to new Airbnbs via Ubers. We are spoiled. After spending four months in Africa, even though the majority of our time was spent in relative luxury, we did receive a glimpse into how a large percentage of the world lives. At the very least this gave me a deep appreciation for the stroke of pure luck that determined when and where we were born. On a deeper level, there are things we will continue to do and start doing in an effort to reduce our own footprint. We always carry reusable bags with us while shopping, will avoid owning a car for as long as possible and recycle religiously in the places which provide bins. Its easy to think that small things don't make much of a difference, and perhaps thats true, but it's certainly not a reason to not try. As you go about your days and weeks, look around and marvel at the magic that surrounds you, from light switches to water faucets to trash cans that miraculously empty themselves. Appreciate them just for a moment. Give thanks that we’re not living in an apocalypse and do what you can to prevent one from arriving any time soon.