I've been crying for three days.

On March 5, we were supposed to fly to Zambia.
We were going to arrive in Livingstone and check into the Royal Livingstone Hotel, overlooking the Zambezi River, where animals come down to the water at sunset. That evening, we planned to take a river cruise.

The next morning, we were going to visit Victoria Falls—1,708 meters wide and 108 meters high. A permanent rainbow suspended in the mist.

We'd walk through the rainforest trails and then take a helicopter flight over this natural wonder, right on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe.
After that, we were set to board the legendary Rovos Rail in style. Departure from the historic Victoria Falls station, champagne before boarding, and a luxury suite.

Then came a safari in Hwange National Park. We'd travel 114 kilometers along one of the world's longest straight railway lines, pass ancient baobab trees, cross the Limpopo River, and cross the Tropic of Capricorn.

Then we'd enter South Africa. Pretoria.
And after that—Cape Town. Table Mountain. Driving a Shelby Cobra along one of South Africa's most scenic coastal roads. The Cape of Good Hope, where two oceans meet. Penguins. Whale watching in Hermanus. Wine estates and tastings at some of the country's finest vineyards.

We were supposed to travel through several countries before flying home from Cape Town.
But none of it is going to happen. 😭😭😭😭😭

Our flights were booked through Dubai Airport, which is now closed. So this beautiful, ambitious dream will remain nothing more than a plan in my notes—for now.

I'm heartbroken. Sometimes you can plan every little detail, and the world still has other plans.

Maybe this is just a pause—not the end of the dream. 🙏🙏🙏