We’ve lived a nomadic lifestyle for so long now that “home” has become an ever-evolving concept, sometimes a flat in a bustling city, sometimes a beach cottage with nothing but the rhythm of the waves and a good Wi-Fi connection. But right now, as I sit in our holiday home at the big table on the veranda, tucked deep in the South African bush, it feels like we’ve stumbled upon one of the most magical chapters yet.

Marloth Park is not just a place—it’s a feeling. A wild, untamed blend of raw Africa and warm community spirit that never ceases to stir something deep in us. Here, in this dusty little piece of paradise on the southern edge of Kruger National Park, we’ve found both thrilling adventure and unexpected comfort. After years of drifting from country to country, city to jungle, we’re utterly content being here—right now, right in this moment.

The days begin slowly here, just the way we like them. Early morning sunlight spills through the trees in golden ribbons, and the bush comes alive with birdcalls, rustling leaves, and the distant grunt of hippos down at the Crocodile River. Coffee on the veranda has become a sacred ritual, made even more delightful by the frequent wildlife guests. Zebras stroll past like they own the place, and they sort of do. Families of warthogs snuffle their way through the garden, tails held high like tiny antennae catching the joy in the air. Kudu stand statuesque under the trees, and mongooses dart around with endearing boldness, hoping for a leftover scrap from last night’s braai.

Living amongst the wildlife isn’t a novelty anymore—it’s a privilege we don’t take for granted. There’s an intimacy to it, a kind of peaceful cohabitation that makes us feel less like visitors and more like part of something ancient and essential. We’ve learned to walk slowly, to listen more, and to take notice of life’s quiet moments. There’s no rushing here. Just the steady heartbeat of the bush, and we’ve synced our pace to it.

What makes this chapter even more beautiful is the community we’ve become a part of. Over the years, through repeat visits and long stays, we’ve formed lasting friendships with people from all walks of life, including locals, retirees, and fellow travelers who’ve also chosen this unconventional path. There’s a camaraderie among us, a shared understanding of what it means to be a little bit rootless, a little bit wild.

Social life here is anything but quiet. There’s always something happening; impromptu sundowners with friends, potluck dinners under the stars, trivia nights, conservation fundraisers, and long, lazy afternoons spent swapping stories on verandas shaded by marula trees. These people have become our tribe. They know where we’ve been and where we dream of going next. They celebrate our joys and offer support when things get hard. And despite the lack of a fixed address, they make us feel grounded.

What’s more, there’s purpose here. Conservation is woven into the everyday, from the local volunteers tracking rhino movements to the casual conversations about water and electricity scarcity and wildlife preservation. Living in the bush makes you acutely aware of your impact. It humbles you. It teaches you to tread lightly. We’ve learned so much, not just about animals or ecosystems, but about how to live more meaningfully.

Of course, not every day is postcard-perfect. There are power outages and water interruptions. The heat can be oppressive, and the bugs, well, they thrive just as much as everything else here. But the trade-off is always worth it. When the stars come out at night, clear and sharp in the black African sky, and the roar of a distant lion vibrates in your chest, it’s easy to forget the small inconveniences.

Being here has reminded us why we chose this life in the first place. We didn’t want ordinary. We didn’t want predictable. We wanted to feel alive. To live richly, fully, with our eyes and hearts wide open. And Marloth Park gives us that in spades.

We’ve found ourselves falling into a rhythm here that suits us perfectly. Mornings and nights with the animals, working, writing, and planning. Many evenings are spent laughing with friends or listening to the cicadas as the fire crackles nearby. There’s no pressure to be anywhere else. No urge to chase the next destination. We’re content. We’re rooted, not by geography, but by connection, by purpose, and by joy.

We know we won’t stay forever. That’s the nature of this life we’ve chosen. But for now, this is home. A wild, dusty, sun-drenched, zebra-trodden slice of Africa that has captured our hearts all over again. We’ll carry it with us wherever we go next, the sounds, the sightings, the scents, the friendships, and of course, the African sunsets.

And most likely, we’ll find our way back here again. Because Marloth Park doesn’t let you go easily. It lingers, like the smell of woodsmoke in your clothes or the memory of a kudu staring into your soul.

For now, we’re simply grateful. Grateful for the animals that remind us how to be still. For the friends who make this place feel like family. And for the chance to keep living this beautiful, unpredictable, nomadic life, on our terms.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, August 2, 2015: