Enter Zambia

Well this was an interesting border crossing! Just a few words to get your imagination ticking along and your heads spinning like ours.

Botswana side of the ferry waiting in line:

Driving into pure chaos, touts approaching all windows the moment we park the car in line, goods trucks queued up for kilometers down the road, people absolutely everywhere, lock the car, army men with very old looking guns. Ferry only takes 6 cars at a time, the race is on. This line takes no prisoners baby!

On the ferry:

Completely open. Infinite variations of very ripe body odor that instantly disintegrates my nostrils and force my facial expression to look like a kid who is trying to look directly at the sun… except I am trying to locate a portion of fresh air to inhale. Hot heat from the sun burning down on us, strong engine fumes stinging my lungs, machine noise creating a loud ambient hum, local chatter and laughter, ticket man surrounded by frantic ferry-goers all wanting to be processed first, no one has heard of lines, a loud South African woman demanding something but I don’t know what, quick get back in the car because we have already reached the Zambian side.

Total ferry ride time: approx 7 minutes. There was a lot to take in in 7 minutes.

Zambian side:

Foot traffic swarms off the ferry all at once, cars charge down the ramp like fierce bulls to a matador and his cape. Park the car, pick a spot, anywhere, just park it! Lock it. Man selling mantelpiece ornaments approaches, army man with gun sporting a great green knitted jersey with leather elbow patches shows us where to go, the heat is hot, we line up.

Carnet de Passage does not have Zambia on it, shit, wait a long time, visas get processed, this room smells riper than a ripe thing, just when I thought nothing could be worse than the ferry. Waiting some more… Fiver goes to change money and buy insurance for car. Another ferry unloads and the visa line grows longer. Where is a toilet? Down behind another office, someone has emptied a rubbish bin into the toilet entrance, nice. A large rough looking man sitting on a rusty broken chair demands money for the toilet, I’ll hold on instead. Carnet de Passage is stamped, get back to the car and meet Fiver on the other side. Drive 10 metres to border gate, returning back to car park spot 1 minute later - Need to pay road tax, carbon tax and police tax before we can leave (10,000 Zambian Kwatcha straight into the policeman’s pocket, no need for discretion here, no point). Nothing is in order, too many separate payments to too many different little officey shop things. No more secret payment surprises, now we can leave. Meet Fiver in the COMESA office on other side of the gate, a giant wasps nest hums with activity on the ceiling while she and the insurance lady chit-chat. Twenty grueling minutes later and a terrible map drawing of Livingstone in hand (a T-junction with some scribbles and dots surrounding it) we pass a “Hakuna Matata truck” and enter Zambia.

Half an hour of driving, heads still spinning we pull over for lunch. Eat lunch, yum yum crunch crunch, get back in the car, pull back onto the road, drive 10 metres, pull over again… Flat tyre.

Lets go to Victoria Falls, morning noon and night!

Victoria falls. The notorious Victoria falls, the FAMOUS Victoria falls. They were something else, that’s for sure! We went in the morning, to, you know, catch the morning light as photographers do. There is something about waterfalls that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and no not that instant effect they have on your bladder, its.. something else. Once through the entrance gate, we journeyed down the waterfall track, and pre-conceded images in our minds of what we were about to see were instantly replaced by the real experience. Sights, smells and sounds all flooded in at once. It was so loud. The violent thundering sound of constant water plummeting down into the white mist below was almost deafening, yet it made me smile. The mist in the air settled in my hair, giving me a ‘very bad hair day’ look, but it didn’t matter because I was at the Vic Falls. Welcoming the mist to cool us from the sun, but hiding cameras under jackets for protection at the same time, we approached the little lookouts one after the other, in hopes of getting a better view than the previous marvel. Rainbows were everywhere, revealing themselves around nearly every corner, or hovering above pockets in the cliff valley below. We even saw a full circle rainbow. The white water was fearlessly spilling over the edge and franticly churning about at the bottom before finding the powerful current to take it elsewhere. Just magic! Everything about it made me smile.

I had been thinking about the bungee jump for quite some time now, but on the day I was suffering from quite the severe (and unpredictable) case of Tsodilo Hills and wasn’t confident in the probability of returning from such an activity without Tsodilo occurring on the way down (see Tsodilo Hills blog for definition). You never know with this sort of thing, so I’ll just wait for the Nile bungee now.

We went back to camp and had some lunch, downed a coca cola or two, squeezed in a quick nap and then headed back to the falls for sunset. Just when we thought the morning session couldn’t be topped, the sunset sights trumped on in. It was the whole morning session again, but golden. GOLDEN!

It was like someone had placed a yellow tinted adjustment layer over top of us, gorgeous light falling everywhere, making the view even more photogenic than before.

This time we headed to the bridge for some variance; you are now entering Zimbabwe, you are now entering Zambia, you are now entering Zimbabwe again. Had to do it.

Moonbow, Lunabow, dreambow!

Imagine one of those airy dreams, almost nightmarish but not quite, one of those backwards ones where nothing really makes sense, except it does. Now add a glossy cinematic feel to it, as if it were discovered by some indie film art director but put to life with a Hollywood sized budget where no special effects have been spared.

That. Is what the moonbow at Victoria Falls is exactly.

Only 3 days a month can you enter the Vic Falls at night; the evening prior to full moon, full moon, and the following evening. This is when the moonlight is so strong that it has enough light power to create a rainbow. Our eyes don’t see all the colors of a normal rainbow, however what we do see at night is a glowing white arch, perched over top of almost silver looking water, tumbling into darkness below. There is a hint of light coming from Zimbabwe in the far distance, but that just adds to the overall gobsmacking portrait in front of us.

Group laughter, tour guides and loud attempts to talk over the noise were not overthrowing the roaring falls this time. Instead, whispers were exchanged, darkness welcomed a calm feeling of solitude, and tears of absolute bewilderment and awe rolled silently down cheeks…

Then there was the mood killer; some brainless person scuttled in view, trying to capture the dreambow with their piddley 3 megapixel camera on bloody auto-flash! Aimlessly taking numerous photos, while wondering why he wasn’t able to capture the image, spoiling poor Stuarts 1minute long exposures. Fiver went nuts, it was awesome.

Moonbow, lunabow, dreambow – it is definitely one the most remarkable sights one can see.

Malawi pics!

Getting a little ahead of myself here, but here is link to my Flickr page so you can see some pictures from Malawi.        

Enjoy

Leo the ballsy Lion.

Because the road from third bridge to Chobe was awfully bad, by reputation, and we had not been granted a booking at the ‘forever fully booked’ campsites on the way, we had no other option but to drive back to Maun and head for Chobe via a longer alternative route.  However! On our way back to Maun, whilst gas bagging in the car, completely blasé towards the wildlife we driving past ‘bla bla bla, there goes some zebra, no its ok we don’t need to stop for them anymore, bla bla oh look another giraffe, bla bla careful of that elephant, Stuart’ we were completely unaware that we might see new animals.  And so what happened? We did see new animals. Lions.

 The 3 of us were enjoying conversations with a new member in the car, Clare, who was riding with us while her husband, Paul, followed a few hours behind, with their broken down rental Discovery being towed back to Maun. Suddenly, someone saw a lion walking down the same track that we were driving. The present conversation was suddenly drowned out by something like this:

 “And so, Clare”, (-lion) what (Lion!) do you d –“LION!!”

LION LION!

What?

LION!

WHERE?

THERE! (pointing by staring two gigantically enlarged eyeballs instead of hands makes spotting the animal tricky for the others on the safari you know, but you can’t help it! You are so frozen by the sight of the animal, that you can’t do anything else except yell ‘THERE!’ with both arms absolutely rigid and useless by your side)

‘WHERRRE?’

‘RIGHT THERE’ (eyeballing, stiff arms still not working) ‘ON THE ROAD!’

‘O SHIT HE’S RIGHT THERE!’ …

‘Wowwwwww.’  (Silence for a few seconds as we watch him strut his stuff down the Moremi catwalk).

‘OMYGOD, holy crap its walking right towards us. Ok, can you please wind up your windows now guys – (me).

He was fantastic, a real lion, right there, walking along the grass not even taking a second look at our foreign animal shaped… vehicle.  I have to tell you, seeing a picture of a lion is pretty impressive, but being able to take a photo of one out the window of your car is something else. Imagine actually being the person who got to take that photo of the lion. That was us!  

      

When ‘babs’ attacked

Bastard baboons. Bloody bugger bugger bastards!           

Another campsite note to remember: When you book a campsite and turn up only to find no one at the reception gate, no one appointing you to a specific site and no one giving you grief for parking in their spot, you should ask yourself this one simple question – “Why?” 

We thought we had found the best spot. Nice big trees surrounding us like a beautiful forest, the ground wasn’t too bad and we had all the space in the world. 

Then, we noticed it stank. Like shit.

 We didn’t ask ourselves “why”.  But we should have.

Once my tent was up, and we had our portable housing arranged accordingly, I sat in my ‘hotel room’ reading (lies, I was watching yet another addictive episode of 24) for only about15 minutes. This pungent smell was creeping into my nostrils more severely than before and I couldn’t handle it much longer.  Finally, I cracked. I headed outside and sniffed around my tent area, then branded our spot ‘The shit pit’.

 At the beginning we just thought the drastic smell was the result of that big pile of elephant waste by that tree over there, and didn’t really take any notice of the almost human-like droppings scattered all around the site.  

We soon found out we were the uninvited guests at the house of one of our long-distant cousins.  AKA, the baboon.

 Our first sighting of a cheeky looking babs scoping out our camp setup (fair enough, I would too and so would you) was amusing. Fiver and I were so impressed with our stealth tactics; hiding up in the roof tent, spying on the fowl little creature whilst cracking up at cunning and witty Facebook status ideas we could submit if we had data roaming. “Fiver is: stalking an unsuspecting baboon from the roof tent, Jack Bauer understudy here I come”.

“Merryl is: in the roof tent, rocks and sticks at the ready for any overconfident baboons.”

 

Things escalated rather quickly from there.

Dinner time was nearing, we were getting organisied for another great camp feast. I had a pile of heavy sticks and rocks within my reach, just in case, but had no idea we would need them so desperately. At first, two little ‘babs’ came at our site from different directions, so we threw some ammo at them, only to threaten them and keep them at bay. The intimidating stalkers barely flinched! They would follow the poorly aimed rock , super wide-eyed, then stare at it flat as it landed right in front of them, totally not phased. Then, just to really get on our nerves, they carried on sitting, watching and waiting.  Items have been thrown at these guys before that for sure, they really only moved if they were hit, and for anyone who knows my Waterpolo form, or cricket ball throwing for that matter, would know just how shit my aim is, and would also be able to imagine how rage-face I got at these stubbornly unresponsive baboons.

 Big dog alpha babs suddenly showed up.  Ooooo he was foul.  He freaked me out, the way he sat there and scratched his nose, just like I would scratch my nose. It was one of the hardest thing my brain has had to compute in a long time.  Gasp! He just sighed a long and heavy sigh, just like someone waiting in line at subway…He is NOT human! Shock Horror! He blinked and squinted his eyes at the blinding sun, just like you and I do at the beach…He is NOT human! My word! Now he’s sitting there in the dirt, just like a kid sits on the mat at school; legs stretched out front, back hunched over, fidgety fingers picking at the fraying carpet instead of paying attention – He is NOT human!

 

Then, things got a little outta hand.

I threw a thick stick at alpha-babs (missed of course), but this time it was a little closer than normal. In other words, I pissed him off.  Fiver and I were standing near the back of car when he lurched straight for us.  Worst mistake I ever made: flinching, slash yelping and bolting for safety. Fight or flight syndrome right? Rule number one, in fact, the only rule to remember when experiencing an encounter with a sticky fingered, ill-tempered, adamant baboon – do not show any sign of weakness. 

In other words, do not run, because he’ll run after you.

My cowardly actions showed alpha-babs who the weakest link was of us 3 – me. After that, Five and Stuart were hording him off with whatever weapons they could reach under the circumstances. Five was clutching at a camping chair attempting the ‘shoo’ method . Stuart sourced a glowing branch from the campfire, waving it around all Indiana Jones like.  Five and Stu put up quite the fight, and in the end it was the power of the torch that won us the match. Note to self, baboons do not like 1million candle power torchlight blasted into their retinas.  

What was my contribution to aiding Five and Stuart in the battle, you say? Well, lets just say that even though I may have been the one that started it all, I was forced to take cover in the car just in case alpha-babs came after me.. uh again.

I was in the front seat of the landy, sipping my ‘Savana’ cider anxiously (skulling nervously), watching the saga through the safety of the rearview mirrors.

The next day we met up with some other campers from third bridge during a morning game drive break, and got talking about the baboon issues. The people told Fiver and Stuart how they heard of two courageous people who were forced to fight off aggressive and vicious baboons with a camping chair. Five and Stuart will go down as heroes in Moremi wildlife reserve history… I will be the cub in the car drinking cider.

Here is an image of absolutely nothing to do with the Baboon attack, but is the sunrise of the next day.  This is what people do to blatantly show that they didn't get any footage of the real encounter, and then they put such a caption as this: 

A long awaited sunrise after that fateful night when the three brave campers were attacked by viciously rabid baboons just the previous dusk..

oooo

Moremi and Third bridge encounters.

Moremi Wildlife Reserve.  Very underrated – kicks Etosha’s butt and is only better than Mahangu because it is bigger. We had quite a bumpy drive to Third bridge campsite, the name comes from its location – the 3rd bridge crossing from Maun to Chobe. Well actually, we missed one of the bridge crossings completely because the roads change according to the weather. And, of course because we are talking delta here, these roads flood big time, which means last years tracks4africa road maps on the GPS were obsolete.  What happens is, when one road is completely submerged, a new and improved one slowly evolves around the sunken tracks, from all the detouring vehicles.  It works pretty well, but is a bit of a laugh when you come across a specific road made around a fallen tree - the tracks are so well set, you would think that tree had been there for years, not from some raging Elephant the week before.

We saw hippos (one walked to a waterhole 20 metres away from the car, Stuart got a great photo but walked back to the car pretty fast), a wattled crane, an egret, a family of warthogs (dam you Lion King!), lots of badly disguised giraffes, an elephant with boobs (excuse my immaturity but I bet you havn't seen one!) and more.

Finally, we made it to our site, absolutely oblivious to what was going to happen that evening – Whenever we retell the story to others, we call it “When ‘babs’ attacked”.

 

Mac Squad strikes again

Maun PostNet got bombed by ‘The mac squad’.  Big time. 

Just another bullshit blog about our internet sessions on the trip. 

Another hilarious mission to the internet café.  Again, we scoped out our target shop, exhausting all research sources to compare prices, time allowances and comfortablility of 3 locations before making the imperative decision – Maun PostNet. 

Macs’ out, power supplies sprawled out all over the café service area, 3 terrible coffees served (why we even try for coffee anymore, I’m not sure.  Fiver barely finds time to breathe during these internet sessions let alone even look at her coffee, or notice me stealing the icing off her carrot cake). 5 minutes into the stressful ‘real world’ catch-up session annnd…. bandwidth has been exceeded.  I guess that’s what happens when one person buys Internet credit and sets up a network so the other two can leech on as well. 

 

They’ll never know!