Livingstone
Trip Start
Sep 01, 2005
1
36
72
Trip End
Ongoing
Livingstone,
Zambia
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Another unexplained phenomena had me wondering if it was common practice, to not allow comfort. The seats were fine- comfortable enough and preassigned. The conductor brought sodas and cookies around. The brakes seemed to work fine and there were no cliffs to fly off. But the driver had the stereo at full blast. It sounded like a roller skating rink.
Just as the sun set and we (the passengers) began to nod off, a horrendous, not just bad, compilation R&B pumped from the, once again, blown speakers. I assumed that it was to keep the driver awake. It stayed at jack hammer decibel levels for the rest of the trip. By 10:30 that night, when we arrived I was thoroughly sick of public transportation and frustrated anger was once again flowing through my veins, with a fever. I was sur that people were fixed on being uncomfortable and was ready to condemn the continent.
In Livingstone, we got back on the backpacker trail. The dorm room that we stayed in cost almost as much for one person as our cabin above the lake in Malawi. Everywhere that we looked there were posters advertising activities that were open to bookings for heavy prices: sun set river cruise, micro light flights, white water rafting, cliff swing, safari, over land trips, bungee jump over the Zambezi and the $35 open bar "booze cruise." Depending on one's budget, all of the tourist picks could be covered from there.
smoke that thunders
Our intention was to see the falls and to get a malaria check.Just out of the town, we could see what looked like pillars of steam rising from the forest. As we drove towards Victoria Falls we realized that it was actually mist that towered in columns, rising high above the trees. Before David Livingstone approached it, it was known as Mosi-oa-Tunya, the smoke that thunders.
It was the middle of the rainy season. The Zambezi flowed at capacity and the length of the narrow, long gorge that it falls over was drowned under endless crushing sheets of water. The air churns in to tornado like torrents and carries droplets back into the sky, and releases them into what looks like a hard rain. You couldn't enjoy the falls with out becoming drenched. On the opposite side of the narrow crevasse this rain lands on the rock face, also creating tall falls that appear to tumble from the sky. The sound carried a weight that you feel in your bones.
We opted out of the high priced adventures that were offered and decided to press through to Windhoek, Namibia. I asked the receptionist how to get to the bus station so that we could purchase tickets for the bus the next day.
"But, you will find nobody at the bus station at this time." She said as she looked at her watch.
"Great."
"Yes, what you should do is get online to purchase a ticket." She continued.
"Online?"
"Yes."
That was a concept that we had nearly forgotten about. It signified that we would probably not have to ride in another painful, jalopy death trap again... in Africa. This was the light at the end of the public transport tunnel. Our malaria test came back negative and our fevers had broken.
We gladly paid the $120 US for two tickets overnight to Windhoek. Gladly, we paid the premium for compulsory break checks, schedules, numbered bag check and tea service. The trip began with the conductor announcing over a loud speaker, "Welcome ladies and gentlemen. We hope that you have a comfortable trip with us today..."
That afternoon, after crossing into the flat Namibian farmland we laughed, thinking about our journey so far. If someone told me that they had crossed from New York to Los Angeles, overland by bus I would have felt pity for what seemed to be a terrible trip. If someone had to go overnight from Denver to Austin I would have felt sorry for them. And, I would certainly avoid it if in any way possible. Yet, we had come from Lalibela on public transport; through the thick of Africa, as a vacation. Yet another example of perspective being reality.
