I’m in love with the bathroom at the Impala Hotel.
It may not be the flashiest hotel bathroom in the world, but it has a toilet with a flush, a hot shower and white fluffy towels.
And after seven days without a shower, of squatting over a stinking long drop or peeing in a bush – all of the above are a sight for sore eyes.
Yes, I’ve rubbed myself down on a daily basis with wet wipes, but I’m still coated in grime. My hair oozes grease and my fingernails have never been filthier.
I’ll be in here a while.
Rivulets of filth run off me in the shower. I soap every inch of skin, but still the water flows black. More soap, more water. Double shampoo of the hair.
The warm water soothes my muscles, stiff and aching after the 21 km hike along the Marangu route out of the Kilimanjaro National Park. That’s the equivalent of a half marathon.
I could stay in here all night.
But I won’t. I’ve got a farewell dinner with my fellow climbers and a bottle of Kilimanjaro beer with my name on it and one final dinner with my fellow climbers.
Then instead of a tent with a sleeping mat and bag, there an actual bed with clean pressed sheets.