Sky’s the Limit: Photo 4 – Mwanza, Malawi – Day 87: Once Naomi and I had finally cleared customs and immigration for both Mozambique and Malawi, we took this tin can bus the rest of the way to Blantyre. Fifteen people crammed into eight seats without any air-conditioning. 📖Excerpt from Sky’s the Limit (link in bio): We pack up in the dark, and when dawn breaks, we board yet another bus that looks like it’s come directly from the demolition derby. It’s supposed to drop us off at the Zobue border post. From there, the plan is to cross into Malawi and find another bus that will get us to the hotel we’ve bartered with in Blantyre by the end of the day. Once the bus driver has all his passengers penned in like livestock, he puts his foot down on the gas, and we begin to lurch forward toward the border. He drives like a toddler does with his toy trucks, and dirt from the unpaved roads we’re traveling down flies through the open windows and cakes our clothes again today. The ride under the baking sun quickly becomes exhausting, and there isn’t much to look at other than the occasional thatched hut on the sun-drenched horizon. It isn’t until lunch that we reach the border. I couldn’t be happier to finally be leaving Mozambique behind. Although we only spent twenty-nine days here, it’s felt more like twenty-nine years. We’ve traveled over one thousand miles on what have got to be the worst buses known to man, and I’m hoping that maybe once we get to Malawi, not only will the travel conditions improve but Naomi and I will see it as a chance to start anew. The immigration office is a brick building no bigger than my old studio apartment on the outskirts of the tiny town of Zobue. I slide our passports over a sun-beaten wooden counter to a man in a light blue button-down shirt that’s three sizes too big for his pencil-thin frame. I give him my best attempt at a smile, but I’m already spent. It’s only getting hotter by the minute today. The officer flips through my passport, then Naomi’s, and then both of them a second time. He looks up at us and says in broken English, “No stamp. You here illegally...