I’m finally home in Cape Town after a long 10 days of travel. To tell you the truth, writing this blog entry has been a bit of a stressor for me because I don’t know where to begin, and I have so much to tell. I’m temped to start at the end of the journey (because obviously that is most fresh in my memory), but I’ll try to remember back. On March 19^th (my 21^st birthday) I awoke at quarter past five to gather all my things in my dark bedroom, hide my computer and catch a cab to the Cape Town airport with 6 of my best friends that I’ve made here. It was still dark when we reached the terminal and we were all exhausted but eager to start a new adventure. After a day of waiting in terminals, airplane food, and three connecting flights (one of which was on a prop plane), we had arrived in the humid town of Maun in Botswana. We all felt sticky, hot and in need of a real meal. Once we arrived at the hostel, we picked out tents, showered, checked out the outside toilets and headed back into town. Because we were all beat and we had to wake up the next morning at 6:30 to leave for our Mokoro camping adventure, my 21^st birthday wasn’t as crazy as some turn out to be. But how many Americans can say they turned 21 in Botswana and drank a Hunters Dry on the plane from Joburg to Maun? Not many.

The next morning we piled into a green, open safari land rover and cruised further into the delta, crossing mini bridges and passing clay huts. What I remember most about the drive was that I kept thinking, “this really feels like Africa.” Little villages consisted of clay huts and women carrying huge loads of sticks on their heads. Donkeys and cows roomed the streets and as we got farther into the bush, where pavement turned to gravel, I saw less people and more tall grass, open space and wildlife. After two and a half hours of bumping down dirt roads we parked at a small opening to water and were greeted by the Mokoro people (locals of the area) cleaning dug out canoes. We said hello, fumbling with the language difference, and they motioned each of us, with our heavy backpacks, into a boat. The whole experience was beyond surreal. Two of us sat in each canoe with one Mokoro in the back who “polled” us through the water. White lilies scattered our path as we followed a maze of tall grass to our campsite. I can’t go into every detail of the 48-hour extravaganza but basically we set up camp, ate delish food our guide (named Abi!) prepared, walked for four hours in the early mornings and evenings and embraced the comforts (or lack there of) of camping.

As our fearless Mokoro guides lead us through the tall, wet grass, the sun peaked out from the horizon and we bumped into a heard of Zebras, some loud hippos, a variety of birds and many unidentifiable footprints. A definite bragging point of the whole adventure was the Black Mamba the Moccoros spotted during our siesta time just hanging out in a tree above out tents. If you don’t know about these snakes, (which I thankfully I didn’t) they are the deadliest and most lethal snake in Africa, and are quite aggressive. Besides getting out of my tent in the middle of the night to pee, which I later found out was incredibly dangerous due to the many hyena and cheetah attacks that occur when its dark, this leg of the trip was a huge success.

Kasane, Botswana was the next stop, and after taking a quick flight we landed in a similar small but hot airport and found our way to our next accommodation – the Toro Lodge close to Chobe National Park. Compared to the buggy tents in the Delta, this place seemed like the Ritz. Since it appeared as if we were the only guess of the lodge, they had bumped down the price, included a buffet breakfast, and upgraded our rooms – not a bad deal. Due to the lodge’s situation on the river signs reading “Beware of Hippos” dotted the premise, while the lady at the front desk warned us of Crocodiles in the water – needless to say, we didn’t jump in. In Kasane we woke early yet again to see the sunrise on a morning game drive. Although we only caught a glimpse of some crocs and hippos in the distance we were happily surprised by elephant encounters at the end. No lions though. In the afternoon we paid 40 pula each (about 8 USD) to go out on a fishing boat as the sunset. Just being on the water was enough for me. While my friends remembered summers of waterskiing and tubing with their families, I searched the placid water for signs of wildlife and watched the sun’s rays seep through a light layer of clouds. Towards the end of our fishing adventure (after not even a bite) our boat driver pushed further down the river to take us to a spot in the water where three countries: Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe are supposed to meet. Unfortunately though we began running out of gas about half way up the river and our driver had to make an emergency landing at a nearby hotel… just one out of many close calls on our trip.

The next day we made a quick group decision to leave a night early from Toro and Chobe to stay a night on the Zimbabwe side of Victoria Falls. I think crossing over the Zimbabwe side of the boarder made us all feel a bit more like bad ass backpackers. Bartering with the cab drivers, we got them down to 5USD per person for a 60 km drive to Victoria Falls and our destination – Shoestring Backpackers. Making sure at least two males were in either cab, we crossed our fingers, took a picture in front of the “Welcome to Zimbabwe” sign and began driving. From the boarder to our hostel we only passed one or two other vehicles and it felt like we were traveling through a place of complete seclusion. Fellow backpackers at the lodge actually informed us that they had just missed a lion crossing the road on the same drive a day earlier.

Anyways, Shoestring Backpackers turned out to be a hopping local bar scene at night that was fully equipped with bright colored African designs decorating the walls, a swimming pool and women who tried to sell us cheap manicures and massages – needless to say I was quite temped but held back. After walking around the street for only a few minutes though we could tell Zimbabwe was quite different than any other place we had been thus far. Locals followed our small crew of 7 around asking to please just look at their crafts or their currency they wanted to trade. Everyone seemed so desperate. The local market turned out to be beyond overwhelming and snaking through the lines of venders without getting bombarded with “looking is for free, just take a step into my shop” was impossible.

At night we decided to splurge on an intense African feast at the infamous Boma restaurant. When we arrived the hostess wrapped us each in bright African cloths and seated us in front of drummers and dancers. The meal was a set all-inclusive deal so our group went all out. I tried crocodile and Mompani worms (the latter I received a certificate for of course) while the red meat lovers feasted on antelope, warthog, buffalo and other game meat. The meat station actually reminded me somewhat of an African Fire and Ice, while the salads, breads and vegetable dishes were something out of a gourmet cooking show. By the end of the night we each had our faces painted, fortunes read, and were past satiated.

The next morning, we decided to wake up early in order to see Victoria Falls at sunrise. Clad in bathing suites, flip-flops and cameras we walked down the deserted streets as we raced the sun to the park. After paying the twenty-dollar entry fee, we had the waterfall to ourselves. I purchased a map and we hit 1 through 17 of the Vic Falls viewpoints. By the end of it we were drenched but happy and ready for breakfast. I remember walking back to our hostel, stretching my arms out to let the sun dry me off, and thinking how lucky I was. How many people get to do things like this?

After checking out and waiting an abnormally long time for breakfast, we began the trek across the Zimbabwe boarder into Zambia. With our luggage hanging of every limb, trudged down the long misty road and across the bridge to the other side. On the bridge we gazed down at the rushing river and a quintessential full rainbow. Once we finished snapping photos of the bungee jumpers and the scene we arrived at customs were we had to pay another exorbitant amount of money just to enter Zambia. Following our arrival at Jolly Boys Hostel we checked in, ate free candy and showered for night cruise on the Zambizi River.

Ok, so let me take a bit of a breather – this had been a long recap for me and I have a boatload of other schoolwork I should probably be doing instead, so forgive me if I’m being brief. The next day we signed up for a full day kayak/canoe trip down the Zambezi and apart from a few close calls (which I won’t get into detail in order to save a few of my friends from embarrassment) we all made it out alive. Just a note – we found out from our guide (nick named “Potato”) that about 10 people a year die on these trips, whether it’s from being eaten by a hippo or croc, or being sucked into the falls themselves.

Anyway, because half of us were running short on funds and because I felt quite lucky and satisfied with what I had already done, I opted out of the other expensive tourist attractions and visited an orphanage Sunday afternoon to play with local children and learn a bit more about Zambian culture. After attempting to teach little boys how to play SODOKU and engaging one of the caretakers in a long conversation, my friends and I headed back. We explored a nearby local market, filled with pungent smells of bakeries, raw meat stands, garbage, and smoke, and then ran home as the sun was setting. People in Livingstone whistled at us as we ran by and I couldn’t help but think what a perfect day it had been.

ps. photos to come!