So that was stressful, it wasn’t too bad. But by Livingstone I had been puked on, rainbow Ted stank. And pretty much everyone felt like fresh air was never going to come. After almost 24 hours of travel the dry deserts and sparse trees were an ironically welcoming sight. We had also by this point seen Victoria falls and a single tarmac road that had no beginning nor destination. And all this before we had even landed.
The food available on the plane was not much to admire, I’m not an egg lover however when my plastic fork stands up straight and I have to cut them (not that I did), I can’t say I was too excited. I can however pour my 100ml lemonade (Schweppes of course) into my tiny plastic cup and raise it to the good drinks.
Touch down on the place we had been dreaming of for two years had finally come, it was all in our grasp.
On arrival we got our bags thankfully all of which were there – Much to our surprise. We then had our bags loaded on to a rather ‘african-esque’ bus where there were more people fitted to a seat than sardines in a can. I can’t say it wasn’t fun though.
We had finally made it to jollyboys campsite. We got set up, took a few photos and then headed into the city for some provisions. It was to say the least, hectic. There was walking from one end of the town to the other looking for meth (methylated spirits; it wasn’t that kind of trip). There was a highly intoxicated man that had to be told very sternly that in our culture you’re not allowed to touch woman. After a long wait in the bank where I believe I was close to fainting no more than seven (muggles) times –excuse the harry potter reference – I must say however I did feel like a Zambian millionaire, one could refer to oneself as ‘rolling in the kwacha’. We finally got our bus tickets ready for the next day to the mwandi village and enough food to keep us going, we hoped.
The long haul day ended with pasta, a chat round the fire and a ceremonial game of Irish snap. And finally went for some well-deserved kip.