zimbabwe and zambia

We finally left our friends in Harare on January 13th. We didn’t want to leave, but we had stayed a week longer than we had originally anticipated (we should know better than to try to make a schedule!). First stop after Harare: Victoria Falls! After a long day of buses with a switch in Bulawayo, we finally made it. I’ve never been to Niagara, but believe me, Vic Falls tops it. In the local language, Vic Falls is called Mosi-oa-Tunya which translates to The Smoke that Thunders. It’s one of the seven natural wonders of the world and even though my expectations were sky high from everything I had heard about it and pictures I had seen, it did not disappoint. I’ve never been so happy just to stare at something for hours. I think the whole day we were there we saw maybe 6 other tourists. On the one hand, it was awesome to have it feel like our own private place, but on the other hand, it’s really sad that the current political situation in Zimbabwe scares away the tourists. If you ever get a chance, this is the one place you can’t miss!

The town of Victoria Falls is not that great, except there was an ATM which was a welcome sight! The town is full of hawkers trying to sell carvings, necklaces, a taxi ride, etc. and it’s hard to remember that their persistence is born out of desperation. Elsewhere in Africa we’ve always had the experience that if you say “No thank you” or ignore them they go away, but in Vic Falls they don’t give up that easily. They follow you down the streets. It’s not menacing in any way, it’s just annoying. I just had to keep reminding myself that they are just trying to make a living.

We had an interesting experience trying to actually get to the Falls. It was within walking distance of our hostel so we walked there, but somehow – typical tourists – we missed the entrance and ended up walking to Zambia. (The Falls are right before the border.) Of course the immigration officer at the border knew we had made a mistake and took advantage. He decided to charge us $30 each to cross and come back, rather than tell us to turn around, the Falls are behind us. Being the smooth operators that we are, we bargained him down to $15 each. (Yes, even immigration officers are susceptible to bribes in Zimbabwe.) We crossed the border pretty proud of ourselves and our bargaining skills. Of course, ten minutes later, we were still walking and walking in the midday heat with no sign of the Falls anywhere up ahead. That was about the time that I got that sinking feeling in my stomach – the one that makes you think, “Oops.” We got to the other side and I said to the guard at the bridge, “This is Zambia, isn’t it?” Yep. We turned around, looking like complete fools, and made our way back to Zimbabwe $15 poorer. But even with that unfortunate but hilarious experience, the Falls were completely worth it. Amazing, breathtaking, magnificent… words don’t do it justice.
The next day, we crossed over to Zambia… on purpose, this time. Zambia is the first place I’ve been where I’ve known literally nothing about the place before going there. I had no idea what to expect. Our first observation was how much better the infrastructure was after coming from Zimbabwe. We never went without power or water, and bus rides were much nicer on roads that had fewer potholes (still not totally pothole-free, though). Zambia is also the first place we’ve encountered the wet season! We spent two nights in Livingstone camping in huge thunderstorms. Zambia is also the first place where we’ve really had to watch what we wear. I think the further north we go, the more conservative we have to dress. Covering our knees and our shoulders is a must. One day I wore a skirt that hit my knees and the following day I wore a skirt that hit the ground, and I noticed a huge difference in the way I was treated in those two days.

Lusaka is such an interesting city. We spent over a week there and I think I can see myself living there. (That’s how I always judge a place, by whether or not I can see myself living there.) Unlike South Africa and Zimbabwe, there isn’t a huge white population – just a few uprooted Zimbabweans, South Africans, and international NGO workers. Lusaka is a study in contrasts: fancy high-rise buildings sit on muddy garbage-strewn streets; a woman in a business suit walks down the street next to a woman in traditional garb carrying a heavy load on her head and a baby wrapped on her back; sparkling new SUVs drive past dilapidated minibuses crammed full with people; craftspeople sell their wares at a traditional market in the parking lot of an upscale shopping mall. Very strange mixtures everywhere, but somehow it exudes an appealing charm.

When we first got to Lusaka, we met Maggi, a family friend of Anna’s, who was in town on business for a couple of days. We stayed with her in a fancy shmancy hotel for two nights. Getting off the bus and to her hotel was interesting; we knew if we told the taxi driver the name of Maggi’s hotel he would assume we had lots of money, so our conversation went something like this:
Me: “How much to go 5 kilometers?”
Taxi Driver: “Where are you going?”
Me: “How much would it cost to go 5 kilometers?”
Taxi Driver: “Where do you want to go?”
Me: “5 kilometers from here. How much would that be?”
Taxi Driver: “Where are you going?”
And so on. At some point I just said the name of an intersection that I remembered was near the hotel (thank you, map in my Lonely Planet book), and we paid about half of what other tourists would have paid. Now that is how you travel on a budget.

Words can’t really describe how much we enjoyed Maggi’s hotel. After so much time on the budget travel route, we reveled in the clean beds, modern showers, air-conditioning, and all-you-can-eat breakfast buffets. (The shower was brown after I used it.) I would have loved to see us arrive at the hotel – two sweaty, smelly girls decked out in cargo pants, Tevas, and huge backpacks. I felt like that scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts goes shopping and is just a little out of place.

When Maggi left we moved back to our usual: a hostel. It is in a great location and we got to explore a lot of the city by foot. The bar at the hostel is also a hangout for locals, not just travelers, so it was a great way for us to meet locals. As much as I revere my Lonely Planet guidebook, it’s always better to get off the beaten track. Our Zambian friends took us to places that are definitely not in any guidebook. We loved the atmosphere of a local bar where everyone was watching a big Zambian soccer match against Nigeria – it was a tie and went into a shootout so it was intense! (Zambia unfortunately lost.)

On January 26th we left Lusaka to take a two-day train to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. We had heard from other travelers that it was a great experience, and it really was. The beds were little more than benches with sheets on them, but it was fun to be on a train. We also heard that the train breaks down a lot but surprisingly the train never broke down and we were only five hours or so late getting into Dar. (Delays are pretty standard… everyone here just shrugs and says “TIA” which means “This Is Africa” when things like that happen.) At one point the train went through a national park in Tanzania for a few hours and we saw elephants, buffalo, and lots of zebras and impala out our window. Pretty cool.

I find it very hard to describe my surroundings sometimes. When people at home ask me to describe Africa, it’s like people here asking me to describe America; everywhere is different. I guess the most surprising thing for me, as an ignorant tourist, is discovering how unique each country is. Each country I visit I find very different from the last; yet there’s something similar that I can’t quite grasp too. Comparing Tanzania and Zimbabwe is like comparing New York City and rural Mississippi: they’re such completely different places, yet they’re both American. So, as different as each African country is, there’s something unifying that makes them all African. Does that make sense? I hope so.


**More to come on Tanzania, Zanzibar, and Kenya**