Our first month in Moshi has somehow flown by at a snail’s pace. It’s hard to believe we’ve only been here just over four weeks—it feels like we’ve packed six months of life into that time. As exciting as this adventure has been, it hasn’t been all smooth sailing. Anyone who has moved towns, provinces, countries—or entire continents—will understand the rollercoaster of emotions that come with it.
The boys were at school for three short weeks (honestly, I think they’ve spent more time on holiday this year than in a classroom). They loved their little school, and we were welcomed with open arms. My big boy has fully embraced the new culture around him—he’s completely fascinated by the Maasai, especially the men and their distinct way of dressing. Every time he spots one, he lights up and waves as if he’s just seen a celebrity.
My littler shadow has taken a bit longer to settle. He was happy once at school, but the morning goodbyes were tough. And, just as he was finding his rhythm, the holidays began. Classic timing.
Despite the short school stint, the boys have made friends and are slowly adjusting to a very different way of life. One of the biggest differences? Here, homes are always open for kids to come and play. It’s been a refreshing change after years in South Africa where COVID really put a damper on playdates and birthday parties. The boys are still learning how to navigate social play in a more casual, unstructured environment—sharing, negotiating, making up games without jungle gyms and themed activities. It’s been a learning curve, but such a good one.
As for me, I’m still finding my feet. Some days I feel incredibly grounded, surrounded by a budding village of support. Other days I feel a bit lost, wondering what I’m doing here and why I thought I could manage it all. But I know this is part of the process—adjusting takes time. I’ve learned that on hard days, putting on my running shoes and hitting the pavement does wonders for my mood. When I feel better, the boys seem to settle more easily too. There’s a lesson in that, I think.
One thing I wasn’t quite prepared for? The rain. When Philip left South Africa for Moshi in March, the boys and I stayed behind for another eight weeks—and it rained for about 90% of that time. The garden was a swamp. Clothes wouldn’t dry. It was wet, wet, wet. Then we arrived in Moshi and, believe it or not, it’s been raining here almost every day too. Mostly in the evenings or early mornings, but still—mud, puddles, soggy shoes. The good news? It’s not cold. The temperature hovers between 18 and 24°C, and we’re definitely not missing the biting South African winter.
Our adventures so far have mostly stayed close to home, with one much-needed escape to Tanga for some vitamin sea. Otherwise, life has been about settling in, meeting people, and easing into routines. The growing South African community here has made Saturdays feel a little like home—rugby, braais, and good-natured debates with American friends about why rugby clearly beats American football. (We’re still working on converting them.)
Navigating Moshi itself has been an experience. The markets are vibrant, chaotic, and bursting with life. Driving our big Toyota Hilux through the maze of people, bajajs, motorbikes, and the occasional wandering chicken has been both terrifying and thrilling. I was told if you could drive in KZN you could drive anywhere in SA—but here? Add in no traffic lights, minimal signage, and a first-come-first-served system and you’ve got a whole new level of chaos.
At home, we’ve found peace in unexpected ways. Birdwatching has become a favorite pastime. We’ve been lucky to spot a pair of palm-nut vultures—rare for this area—and they now visit regularly, squabbling with crows and soaring above the garden. At night, we keep an eye out for hedgehogs scurrying about, and during the day, squirrels race through the trees while monkeys swing by in noisy troops. The garden has become a haven—for the wildlife and for us. A quiet, green bubble where we can breathe.
Despite the bumps in the road, we’ve reached a turning point. We’re living a dream that we’ve held close for years. It’s not a fairy tale. It’s slow, messy, and real—but it’s ours. Each day, this place feels a little more like home. And I can finally start to picture us here for the long haul.
My Path Love Jess 