On the banks of Lake Malawi sits a small village where locals blend with foreign tourists; the cultural differences between them breaking down with a morning swim. I am awaken in my beachside bungalow to the sweat beginning to pool on my body. The mosquito net does its job wonderfully, but stifles the natural breeze inside the straw structure. But I am not annoyed, this is the adventure that is rural Malawi. I would not trade this for any comforts from home. Instead, I decide to get up and go outside. The lakeside is beginning to wake up, as families begin to bathe and gather water from this immense body of water. I struggle to remember this is a lake, in Malawi, in Africa... how did I get so lucky as to find myself in this corner of the world? How tragic a thought that many will never have the opportunity to see this place. Later, a group of children begin to gather in front of the tourists, setting up their handmade instruments and beginning their performance. A young boy dances in a shirt which looks like the American flag, a country he may have heard of, but likely has never visited. Perhaps he will go one day and realise the significance of his coloured shirt, or perhaps like the millions who will never get this sit on the banks of Lake Malawi, it will remain a corner of the world faraway that they will never experience. After all, the world is big and this is just a tiny part of it, the banks of Lake Malawi.