"I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I

was not happy."

-Ernest Hemmingway

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Semester Break: Victoria Falls

After another day of data collection I said goodbye to my classmates, with a great deal of regret. I might have been the only female in a group of ten, but felt welcome, comfortable, and appreciated at every moment. But adventure was calling. I met up in Kasane with my travel companions (internaitonal students from the States and Mexico) and we headed for Zambia. My biology professor drove us to the border crossing (fully redeeming himself for countless absences and late appearances) and negotiated with a local to boat us across the Zambezi river. We paid 50USD for a single entry visa into Zambia,and after beating off drones of vendors and hawkers, landed a ride with a group of tourists. The drive to Livingstone was quick and easy. We unloaded out baggage at the JollyBoys backpackers, a lodge true to its name in every sense. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, the staff helpful, and the toilet paper pink. I summoned my inner Bohemian and felt right at home. One night's stay in the dorms cost 8USD. We woke up bright and early Tuesday morning for a visit to Victoria Falls via minibus (Zambian combi). The World Heritage Site was unbelievable- the falls span a width of almost two kilometres and drop over six hundred metres at the highest point. Even equipped with rain jackets we were thoroughly soaked in the heavy mists. After a short trek to the bottom of the falls we headed back into town. A walk through the local market earned us a few bolts of chitenge fabric (used to make beautifully patterned skirts) and a slightly deranged stalker lady. She kept insisting that she was our dear friend (clearly not the case), but we managed to shake her at the gates to JollyBoys. Our Victoria Falls curiosity satisfied we made our way back into Botswana. Maun was the destination in mind. Sadly though, all long distance public transport had departed for the day. So we hitchhiked. In the front of a semi with four brandy drinking (yes, the driver too) local guys. The music was so loud I had to put my earplugs in for protection. Six o'clock put us in Nata, where we worked and mingled to find a ride to Maun, but no such luck. A night at the 24/7 gas station was looking a bit shifty so we forked out a handful of pula for a room at the Nata Guest Inn. Where a blissfully cold shower awaited. Woken by the sunrise, and surprisingly refreshed, we trekked back to the gas station. A tour bus- luxuury transport after our last experience- took us aboard for 60Pula apiece and we set off for Maun. The only obstacle was a disease control checkpoint where our bags were thoroughly searched. We tearfully parted with bags of newly purchased fruits and vegetables. I was then ordered to stomp around in a trough of water. Supposedly laced with foot and mouth disease powder, though I question the effectiveness of such control measures. I felt a bit like a kid in a rain puddle.

No comments:

Post a Comment