Do you know the difference between "vacation" and "trip"?
Until two months ago, no, I didn't know it. 
I have always travelled a lot, I am a world lover, and one of my greatest goals is to be able, in my life, to visit all the most varied places on the planet.
But in Africa, and precisely in Kenya, I have discovered that there is an abysmal difference between taking a holiday and going on a trip. 
The holiday, as far as I am concerned, is more focused on visiting places, tasting certain typical local dishes, having fun, getting to know very bland people. The trip, instead, is all this but also something else. 
I think it is something much more interior. Perhaps the destination has lent itself more to this kind of consideration. 
But all this, of course, I discovered it there.
I have always underestimated the continent of Africa, I had never considered it and often when someone tried to propose it to me, I was always quite categorical. Although I was particularly intrigued by Safari, I was never really interested in actually going there: "Maybe one day I will go there, now I want to see something else". That was my answer. 
I don't know if this refusal was due to prejudice and fear, I just know that once I arrived in Kenya something changed inside me.
As soon as I arrived at Mombasa airport at night, anxiety immediately prevailed. A very kind Kenyan gentleman was there, ready to accompany us to our accommodation in Watamu. 
By choice I don't sleep in the Resorts, I prefer the simplest accommodations, and also in this occasion, through a travel agency, we agreed with a local Italian girl, who rented us a beautiful bungalow inside a "village" near one of the most beautiful beaches.
Once we loaded the suitcases in the car, we left to this coastal town, the most touristic in Kenya. Dark streets, people walking on every side of the road, motorcycles whizzing left and right, trucks, street vendors. Sometimes I got scared. 
I don't deny it and I'm not ashamed of it. I am also, however, quite aware that if I had walked those roads in broad daylight, I would not have had the same feeling of anxiety.
As the days went by, those places, those people, those scents, those colors were slowly entering me. I don't know what happened, everything I had imagined finding had turned out to be a "hole in the water". 
The people were fantastic, very kind, completely open to dialogue, to listening and to wanting to show you everything beautiful there. I tried to understand their culture, their customs, and I was willing to answer all their questions.
One of the things that amazed me the most, though, was their empathy, their way of making you feel special even for just five minutes. 
I had the feeling that I was creating real relationships, and I, who am a person with some "problems" of sensitivity, let myself be completely carried away. I rediscovered the ability to appreciate the little things. It's really disarming to realize that there are still people who don't have water, light, paved roads, a real house, food. All things that are part of our normal life.
Kenya has changed me, I came back to Italy with greater awareness. Sometimes, suddenly, it happens that my head is catapulted there again trying the same emotions, hearing the voices of all those children you saw coming out of the giblets shouting "Ciaooo!!!! Jambo!!"; those colors never seen before, sunsets that last exactly one minute but that are of an unprecedented beauty, skies full of stars that I never tired of staring at.
This country is awe-inspiring, if you let it get inside you, it changes you. It makes you cry sometimes, but it also makes you laugh a lot.
Thank you, Kenya, for making me believe that something real and authentic still exists.
Sick of Africa? Yes, it does exist, I guarantee it.