May 10: Victoria Falls
The trip from Kisane to the Zimbabwean border is ten or fifteen
minutes. Zimbabwe is in dire need of hard currency, so they charge
foreigners for visas and require that they pay in foreign currencies
(it's $30 US, in case you're interested, with appropriate conversions
for pound sterling, francs, and so on). At the border, we hit
an interesting cultural filip. The customs guy decided to put
all of our visa payments on one receipt. Who would get their name
on the receipt? Why, the most senior among us, of course. Since
Ken and Helen had diplomatic passports and didn't need to buy
visas, that ended up being me. The guy also sang a little Naomi
song to himself as he wrote her name down on the paperwork. "Nah-oooooo-mi."
I could hear the drums and backup singers in his head. Nice tune,
by the way.
"Downtown" Victoria Falls is where the Third World starts getting
ugly. There's an area of four or five blocks where the stores,
banks, and restaurants are. It's also packed with Zimbabweans
trying to make a buck off of the tourists. It's impossible not
to feel like a target there. Fortunately, our sojourn there is
brief. Change some money into a thick sheaf of currency at the
bank (the Zimbabwean dollar is worth about three cents), a very
bad lunch at a local hamburger joint, and we're off to where we're
staying: the Lokothula Safari Lodge.
Home, with the walls up
At the lodge, we stay in a two-and-a-half story, three bedroom
cottage with canvas walls that roll up on the ground floor, giving
an unobstructed view of a bit of "lawn" and a broad stretch of
woods as far as the Zambezi. Much like the bar in Kisane, the
weather is good enough that we don't really need actual walls
or glass windows
.
The 7:15 warthogs, right on time
Dinner is at a restaurant attached to the lodge and its related
hotel, the Boma (the Place of Eating). The place is decorated
to look a bit like a village, and the evening is something between
a meal and a performance. Our waiter starts by washing our hands
and pouring some native beer (traditionally made from various
grains including millet and sorghum and quite cloudy) from a gourd.
An interesting taste, although I've got little to compare it to.
Between performances by singers (quite good), dancers (ditto),
and a strolling storyteller (I liked him), I took advantage of
the grill, well stocked with local game: wildebeast, warthog,
eland, ibex, and so on. I made it a point to have the eland, although
I doubt that it was from the fatty hump at the back of the neck,
so I probably didn't get much n!um out of it. It felt like the
Disney version of Africa, but quite enjoyable nevertheless.