Today we walked a path we'd traveled twice before. But this time I felt different. Apart from this strange feeling to my destination, I was now heading to a completely new place – without guides, without a cook, without any plans, other than the fact that I had to feed myself and survive for a dozen or so days.

My travel preparations, of course, also included how to feed myself. I had a few days' worth of dry food – enough to not to starve to death in the worst-case scenario. Despite my excitement, my enthusiasm cooled, fearing how I would cope.

Most of the journey passed in silence, or at least no conversations took place near me. Finally, as we began to settle in for the night, I noticed that the camp we'd set up was much more modest than those I'd seen in archaeological camps. There were, for example, no lanterns or blankets.

I started to prepare for bed, but stopped for a moment to watch the cook prepare something to eat - I was hoping to learn something. I was afraid to ask questions, so I mostly just observed. But at some point, completely unconsciously, I asked, "What spice do you add?" We were both surprised by the question. With a confident smile, he replied, "Chakalaka." I'll probably remember that name for the rest of my life. From that moment on, he started commenting on what he was doing, and it felt like the distance between us had narrowed.

After eating, everyone went to sleep, and the camp fell into a jungle-like silence.