That's all, folks.

So here it is. My final post. Yes, yes I realize this is pretty much the third concluding post in a row. But this is the actual last one.

I’ve been back in Sunny Sylvania for a handful of days. I was really sad to leave South Africa, I cried a significant amount, but it feels good to be home. It was difficult to say good-bye, but I can’t even say I miss Cape Town, per se. I like to think that’s because I had such a wonderful semester. I flew away from that funny country feeling satisfied with my explorations and experiences.

Last day in Cape Town, on top of the world (or back on top of Table Mountain).

I keep thinking a lot about my South African study abroad experience, most likely because I have oodles of free time and keep being subtly reminded that I’m back in the US. Every time I leave my house I feel uncomfortable that my laptop is just sitting out on my desk, especially since my bedroom door isn’t padlocked. It’s funny to hear only American accents. I’m actually clean for the first time in five months, from a mold-free shower to a clean floor. Suburbia is quiet: no one is speaking Sotho right outside my door and I never hear the honks of a minibus. I can toast my bagel in a toaster. I have a keyboard on my phone, I don’t need to be worried about airtime, and I haven’t gotten any strange voicemails from someone yelling in Xhosa. It’s the little things that keep surprising me, reminding me of where I was, where I am now.

I feel so lucky to have been able to go abroad, so big thank you to my Mama and Papa Bear for all their support and never questioning my choice of South Africa. I was able to attend a foreign university. I traveled a bit, going to places that provided a completely different experience than the one before. Most importantly, however, I was able to live in the Mother City. Even though I may have painted it this way, not every moment abroad was all smiles, hugs, rainbows, and unicorns. However, every moment, the ups and downs, the comfortable and the uncomfortable, where all worth it. They all added up to become my ideal semester abroad.

Last day at the ugliest campus around.

Let’s be real, I flew out of the US five months ago not really knowing what to expect.  Yup, neither did many of the people I talked to. When I was preparing to leave the questions and comment I got ranged from “Wow. You’re going to AFRICA?!” and “Oh. South Africa is like white people, right?” Well yes, I did go to Africa, but my experience can definitely not be generalized to all 54 countries. And yes, there are white people in South Africa, but that only adds to the complexity of the nation. I think there’s a happy medium in there somewhere.

But now I can comfortably talk about my experience, both personally what I did, felt, and experienced, as well as the larger social and political aspects of the city and country that I both saw firsthand and learned about in class. And all this is hard to sum in a little blog post. I can’t articulate everything I’ve learned and experienced. I can’t pick out the best part of my semester. I can’t describe every feeling.  But my knowledge has grown infinite amounts. And, you know, if you’re keen on hearing about the ANC or South African racial dynamics just let me know…

Here’s something else I’ve figure out: I know a lot of people go abroad, fall in love with their host country, cry about going home, and dream of the big day when they can return to that beloved place where they spent 6 months living, exploring, drinking, and probably not doing very much studying. I know I did love being in Cape Town. There’s not doubt about that part. It’s a fascinating place (how many times can I say that right? Sociology nerd). I met some interesting people, I saw interesting things, I explored, I traveled, I had fun, I drank, and I did, in fact, study. However, my big dream isn’t to one-day return. I have no strong desire to live in Cape Town again. I don’t really want to be that person that forever wants to relive her abroad experience. Yes, I love talking about Cape Town. Yes, I loved living there. But just as much as I grew this past semester, I want to continue that growth in my present and future experiences.

Cheers to you, South Africa.

 Thanks for following, everyone!

It's the final countdown

So I just woke up from my last night of sleep in my broken bed in my dirty, moldy flat, hearing the sweet sounds of mini buses along Durban Road. I’m feeling really refreshed after about three hours of sleep. My closet is empty, my suitcases are full, and I have five months of amazing experiences under my belt.

I’m super pumped to see my family, spend some time in Toledo, and be back at AU in the fall. STILL. The tears are flowing. I think it’s just an indicator of how great of a semester this has been. I think (and hope) I’ve made it clear that I’ve really loved my experience. But I also need to give a pretty big shoutout to all the people I’ve met over the course of the semester. I’ve loved the people I’ve met, lived with, camped with, adventured with, rapped Eminem with, learned about sheep bones with, eaten Souper sandwiches with: became friends with.

Yup, I’m ending this post with a quote too: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

South Africa, it’s been real.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

I know I don't believe in countdowns, but it's time for me to admit that I have exactly one week left. Let the panic and mixed emotions ensue. Also, it means it's time for a sentimental, thoughtful post. Go.

Right now I'm ready to be back home and excited for next semester at AU, but I'm also ready to stay around Cape Town and struggling with the thought of leaving. This semester has been amazing and I will never be back here in the same context. The finality is frightening.

Nine months ago I was panicking about going abroad. Was I choosing the right place? Will I get my application done in time? SHOULD I EVEN GO ABROAD? Yes, yes that last question was really stupid. Like I said, I was panicking.

If I hadn’t gone abroad, I wouldn’t have had any idea what I was missing. I’m sure I would have had a great semester at AU, in a city in love with friends I really miss, but I now know it would be nothing comparable to this semester. It’s hard to sum it up in words, but I’ve done new things, seen new things, met new people, and pushed myself in a million different ways. 

It started out with a jetlagged struggle up Table Mountain on day one, was followed a week later by a jump off a bridge, and I haven’t stopped since. So thank you South Africa, you’ve been good to me.

On top of Table Mountain. DAY ONE.

  “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” –Mark Twain

Word.

Fun Facts

Here are some random, useless things I’ve discovered here.

1. Mullets are a thing here. Not trashy, stuck in the 80s mullets, but stylish, I-put-thought-into-this-and-think-I-look-hot mullets.

2. There’s no air conditioning…or heat. Nope, no vents, heating, or cooling system all up in my room. Just windows and blankets and the hope that there won’t be any extreme weather. A big thank you to my sweat suit and scarf uniform for keeping me warm.

3. Pasta sauce is for pasta and tastes pretty bad (miss you Grandma!). Tomato sauce is not for pasta. Tomato sauce is ketchup, but it’s not called ketchup and doesn’t taste the same.

4. If there’s one thing that makes be really American, it’s the large amount of peanut butter I consume.

…OK there may be a few other things as well.

5. Squirrels are really rare in Cape Town. They're apparently even more rare to this group of tourists in Company's Garden. One of the funniest things I've seen, especially after spending seven years at schools overrun with squirrels.

Tourists, squirrels, madness

6. When I go in a public restroom I hope there will toilet paper, assume there won’t be soap, and am guaranteed to find a full bin of condoms.

7. I actually think I’ve gotten used to Africa Time, but still hate that my internet is limited by megabytes.

CHeers!

Keepin' things classy in Cape Town

Classes are over, finals have started, and we had a delightful closing dinner for my program. Yup, my time is winding down. While some are wasting their time counting down the days left, I’ve been out adventuring.

Here are a couple highlights, my friends.

I hiked Lion’s Head during the full moon. We head up before sunset, hiked above the clouds, watched the sunset while eating a delicious picnic, saw Cape Town all aglow at night, then headed down in the light of a very bright full moon.

It's so easy from above, you can really see it all

Scalin'

Sunset, clouds, mountains. Why so ugly, Cape Town?

I see a bad moon rising

All of the lights

 

Now that classes are over and three weeks are allotted to exams, I have a bit of free time on my hands. What do I do with this free time? Go to Stellenbosch, wine taste, be classy. The usual.

My friends and I headed out to beautiful wine country on Monday, hit up five wineries (go big or go home), and become even more of wine connoisseurs than we already were.

White. Red. Pinotage. Sauvignon Blanc. Riesling. Pinot Noir. Dry. Leg. Tannins. Oaky. Check it.

Wineries are ugly

Really ugly

Wine goes in barrels

Wine goes in bottles

Wine goes in bellies

So exam time is upon me, and my lucky self is done June 1. I’ll be spending the following days basking in and playing around rainy Cape Town. Only good things to come.

Cheers!

Mzoli's Meat

I wanted to keep this post separate from the Township Tour because the environments are so different, but both are Gugulethu.

 

Mzoli’s is a large restaurant in Gugulethu. Basically, big groups come, buy alcohol from unlicensed vendors across the street, hang out in this massive tent, and order HUGE amounts of meat.

I was in a large group that went and we got two giants plates of chicken, sausage, and steak, along with pap. The food comes, and you go at it. Silverware? Unnecessary. Napkins? So necessary. As everyone who has ever had the pleasure of eating around me ever should know that I’m a relatively messy eater. I think this day brought me to a whole new level of mess, but it didn’t matter, because we were all coated in barbeque sauce.

Just to indicate the massive amounts of meat, check out my friend and well-known meat model, Steph:

Before

After!

 It was some of the best braai meat I’ve ever eaten, and boy, we all did some damage. I was quite full when I left the restaurant, and was still quite full when I woke up from a nap a few hours later.

I’m going to miss braais so much when I’m gone.

Township Tour: Welcome to Gugulethu

I recently went on a tour of Gugulethu, a Cape Town township. Going on a township tour is sort of a funny thing- just the whole idea of being a tourist to see poverty feels a little strange. As strange as it was, it was worthwhile to see how a significant portion of the South African population lives.

It’s a large area full of small, informal buildings. We actually went into one shack, made of wood, metal, plastic, etc, so they could easily catch on fire and burn down in a matter of minutes (there was a large, extremely damaging fire in Masiphumelele recently). These families are often squeezed in with no running water, which also means no toilets.

It was hard to see, and especially hard to be a tourist, but also interesting to walk around a play of high unemployment, poverty, and limited resources.

Informal housing

Trash

No grocery stores, only tuck shops

AFRIKABURN

Things I did the first weekend of May:

1.     Drove out to the middle of nowhere

2.     Went to an art festival

3.     Camped in the desert

4.     Face painted strangers

5.     Met a German man named Ralph who made me pancakes every morning

6.     Took candy from a stranger

7.     Road on a land-roving pirate ship

8.     Saw a giant structure get burnt to the ground

9.     Went to AfrikaBurn

Giant art in the middle of the desert, please.

AfrikaBurn, based on Nevada’s Burning Man, was a five-day art festival in the Karoo desert. About 3,000 setup camp, brought everything they needed for their stay, then became part of a self-sustaining community.

Here’s how they describe it: “AfrikaBurn is a creative arts and freedom of expression festival that aims to build temporary community through collaborative arts projects, in a completely non-commercial environment.” Yeah, that pretty much means giant pieces of art, good music, and hippies.

Burning Man Clan

Four friends and I drove in Friday night after absolutely packing ourselves into our car (five people, backpacks, tents, food, water, beer) for a cozy trip. After spending three hours driving down dirt roads in the pitch-black, we were met by cold, wind, and sand. We drove into this massive campsite and squeezed into what looked like a good spot. Then, Rachel and I struggled to pitch a tiny tent in the wind. I’m proud to say we were successful; I think it’s pretty clear that I’m now a champion camper. Now, it was time to roam.

Found a giant shoe. Slid down it.

I need to emphasize again that I was actually in the middle of nowhere. AfrikaBurn just sets itself up in the middle of a national park that is straight-up desert. The layout of the camp was a horseshoe, numbered like a clock from 2-10. So if you asked somewhere were they were living it would be something like “Around 5:30. Look for a bright yellow truck with a purple truck and a white truck with sheep. We’re right next to that.” Most of the music was near the ends at 10 and 2, and huge pieces of art where in the middle. I mean, huge.

When we woke up Saturday morning it was exciting to see this place in the daylight. Tents, camps, people dressed in funny costumes, decorated bikes, crazy vehicles, and more were all over the place. Our neighbors, a couple Germans who have been driving and living all over Africa for the past few years, made some mighty tasty pancakes. Then, we did a bit of face and body painting and explored the place for the afternoon.

Neighbours and "Pancake Express"

My artwork on Becca

I got some tea. I put my handprint on a large canvas. I listened to live music. I painted an umbrella, I wrote on a pyramid. I face painted strangers. Ate soup. You get the idea.

Write on the pyramid, paint an umbrella, see in man in gold leggings.

That night we made ourselves some dinner in the darkness, and also got some potjie from our neighbor, Jan McLachlan, a friendly Afrikaner who loved that we were American. Oh yeah, he couldn’t believe Rachel was a history major. “They still teach history?”

Then it was time for the BURNING. First, there were awesome fire dancers, then the GIANT burning man structure/piece of art thing got lit and fire. Everyone’s gathered around it, watching it go up in flames, and it sounds kind of stupid as I describe it, but I promise it was really, really cool. Then we explored some more. There were pretty much just a bunch of random spots with music and dancing. Like a giant cactus playing trance and the truck that was decorated like a living room with a great DJ and the truck decorated to be a pirate ship. Then I spent another cold night bundled up and snuggling with Rachy.

Burning Man Clan BURNING

Sunday was pretty similar to Saturday. Roamin’. Seeing all the cool art n’ schtuff. We also set up twister towards the middle of the horseshoe. The whole idea of AfrikaBurn is to contribute something to the non-commercial environments, and yes, this was part of our contribution.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to play Twister in the desert? After a few rounds of that, it was getting pretty toasty, since it was 37 degrees Celsius. HOT. So we went to the “carwash,” which was a big tent with a DJ and a nice mist coming from people walking around with hoses, including a little boy in a Spiderman costume.

Success!

The night also proved to be pretty similar. There were a lot of smaller burnings, as a bunch of the art got set on fire.

We left the hippies, the desert, the non-commercialism, the friendliest people super early Monday (a public holiday) morning. We saw a beautiful sunrise and made it back to Cape Town in one piece, without a flat tire (or should I say “tyre”)! Mad props to Laura’s excellent driving skillz.

So after this trip I obviously, I got really philosophical and wondered why the whole world couldn’t be like this. Then, I remembered Lord of the Flies and got back to reality. But yes, if you couldn’t already tell, this was a really silly experience but also one straight from my dreams.

 Cheers!

Robben Island

I (finally) made a trip out to Robben Island last weekend, the island that served as home to a few prisons, most famously the one that held Nelson Mandela and numerous other key political figures during the apartheid.

We took a 45-ish minute ferry out there from the Waterfront. Not only is the island perfect for a prison because it is so far from Cape Town, but it is a natural prison between of the cold temperature and strong current of the surrounding water.

It may be a prison, but it sure is pretty

The first part of the tour was a bus tour around the island. It holds, not just one, but four prisons. It started out as the prison to send murderers, rapists, etc., but political prisoners began to be sent there in the 60s and 70s. Here’s the problem though: the criminals and political prisoners were jailed in the same prison originally. Those criminals in for less severe crimes would be released…after having been politicized by the anti-apartheid politicians and activists. Eventually the apartheid government brightened up and created a separate, high-security prison for the political prisoners.

Robben Island Primary School. I think there are about 25 students. Yikes!

Prison that held the first president of PAC, Robert Sobukwe

Next, we went on the tour of the main prison. Coolest part: all the tour guides in the prison are former prisoners. My guide was arrested when he was 17 for taking part in the Soweto Uprisings. Needless to say, he was super interesting.

Our guide, with the two mats prisoners were given to sleep on

So we got a tour of the prison. There were different sections, A-G, with intensity decreasing through the alphabet. I saw Mandela’s cell, where he was jailed for most of his 27-year imprisonment. It was really interesting to see how these men functioned in this prison and managed to continue to educate themselves. Also interesting, yet unsurprising, is that depending on the prisoner’s racial category, he would receive different meals. Those labeled Indian and coloured got more/better food than blacks (comparatively).

Nelson Mandela's cell

So yes, I had a pretty decent Saturday.

Cheers!

(Dis)Functional English

It should come to no one’s surprise that I’ve been volunteering while living here. South Africa’s got all sorts of issues, and I loves me some service, so it was a natural occurrence. My study abroad program offers about five different organizations to volunteer with, and their volunteer program was part of my draw here. Turns out I’m not actually doing one of them. They are all great programs, but I decided that volunteering could be a chance for me to not only reach out to the greater Cape Town community, but another avenue for me to reach UCT students.

I decided to go for the smaller of two tutoring organizations on campus. I was trained, I was registered, and I was ready to go tutor Function English to eighth graders at a township high school at the beginning of the semester.

My first session, back in February, was sheer chaos more than anything else, and I can’t say that much has changed since. In African terms, the student-run organization I go through is organized. In my terms, it can be questionable. Communication and promptness can definitely lack, but in the big (African) picture, they’re pretty on their game. But the real chaos comes from the high school I tutor at.

I head out to the Cape Flats every Wednesday afternoon. There are five Functional English tutors, and we head out with another group of Science and Maths (not Math, but Maths) tutors going to another school. We get there and hang around until the 3:15 bell rings. Let chaos erupt. High schoolers in blue uniforms are in their prime, being typical fourteen year olds.

The five of us wind our way back to our classrooms, hang out for a few minutes while the kids clean up, then file in to organize ourselves. The number of learners that show up each week varies, but does seem to be on the steady decline. We split ourselves into small groups, where I’ve had anywhere from two to six learners, and work on our provided worksheets for the next 45 minutes.

The first day we got there we were told that we were getting the worst of the worst. Each of the five eighth grade class had about 55 students (yes, per classroom, per teacher), and the school had identified the 5-10 learners per class that were struggling most with English. These were the kids we would work with each week, and we would maintain the same group and hopefully see them improve.

Even though I try, I can’t say I’ve kept the same group. It just depends who shows up. I can’t say we have many conversations with these learners, who are either too timid to speak English in front of us or just don’t know how. I like to think I see small improvements. Are they speaking more around me? Do they comprehend more of the worksheets? Are they reading better? But I can’t really answer the questions.

So I do have some serious questions about how much help I actually am for these kids. And yes, I do have some serious qualms about being a middle-class, white American prancing into their classroom once a week to try and teach them the language that one student described as “white man’s language.” I just hope that in some way I have helped their English improve, because they need it to be any sort of successful in South Africa. I also know that this has been quite the learning experience for me, taking me out of my comfort zone into a place I have never experience before.

So I’m not walking out of this high school being Super Girl who saved the day, taught them English, or paved their way into a world of success. However, I have experienced the reality (as much as I can) of the life in a black township, and the struggle of South Africa’s education system. I hope, for the sake of these rambunctious kids, that they are one day, successful, in whosever terms those may be.

And hey, at least I achieved part of my goal with volunteering…made some South African friends. Now, do you think they’d want to do a Chipotle Fellowship?

Reason #438 why studying in Cape Town is different than DC

The entirety of UCT was out of toilet paper today. Can I just remind you that it's a campus of 25,000 students? TIA.

Part 2: Vonderful Vic Falls

Note: If you’re not a diligent reader of my blog and/or lack common sense, scroll down and read Part 1:Beautiful Botswana before continuing with Part 2.

Another note: Thanks for reading these really long posts!

My last few minutes in Botswana were spent under a tree, waiting for a ferry to take us over the Zambezi to Zambia. Nothing especially worth blogging about, but there are a few interesting things I saw. I did see the only place in the world where four countries meet. The point where Namibia, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe meet is somewhere in the middle of the Zambezi…so there’s not a marked point, but I saw the general vicinity. Wahoo! Also, the road leading up to the ferry is completely lined with truck after truck after truck. These trucks wait for a few weeks up to a month to cross the Zambezi, as each ferry can only carry one truck over at a time. Companies and drivers choose to do this instead of driving through Zimbabwe because of the large taxes and road fees they would have to pay in Zim.

So after our wait, we put-putted ten minutes across the Zambezi to arrive in Zambia, and we even had the pleasure of hanging out at the border post for about an hour, which is apparently a short wait. Then we were off to our campsite in Livingstone, where Steph and I pitched Buffalo 2 for the last time. We even made a friend outside our tent a day later…miss ya, Baby Rat!

Tent pitching pros

 

Then the afternoon meant time to head to Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. I give my approval of Vic Falls being on that list because it is unbelievable. I was by no means prepared for what I was going to see, because it was so awesome

Fun Fact: locals call Vic Falls Mosi Oa Tunya, which means “The Smoke that Thunders”

Firstly, I was soaked almost instantly. The amount of mist coming off the falls was wild. For most of the time, it was even really difficult to see, but when we could see the falls it was awesome. I mean, really, really awesome. It was pretty overwhelming to look at it, because it’s so powerful, especially when we had to walk across a bridge over a gorge next to the falls.

Just a little wet

Mist, falls, sunset

 

The next few days at Vic Falls was much less structured than the past week, and we even got to sleep in a little bit. So my Friday started out as any day should…with lions. I woke up early and headed out to a national park where we would do a walk with lions. Yes, this was about a million times more commercialized than my other animal encounters over the past week, but with the difficulty of seeing lions in the wild, I figured it was worth it.

First, we were briefed on the program these lions were a part of, whose goal is to increase the lion population, which has decreased 80-90% over the past thirty years. Their lions go through four different stages, and during stage one while they’re still cubs they can have human contact. We were also taught how to act around the lions. Stay calm, kneel on one knee when petting, carry a stick as a means of distractions, since lions are very easily distracted, and most importantly, say “NO!” in a firm voice if a lion starts to approach you. “They may not understand what you’re saying, but they understand your tone.” Well, after that, I felt well-equipped to go hang out with some lions.

The next hour was spent walking through the park with the lions, who, in fact, walk surprisingly quickly. We were with two sisters, Ruma and Rufiji, who were 17 month old "cubs." Over the course of the walk they would often do their own thing….stop and “play” with one another or just lie down. Lions can sleep 21-22 hours of the day, so I think we were interrupting what they considered vital nap time.

Me and my ladies

Concentrating much?

Just some lion cubs playin'

 

In the afternoon I decided not to do another activity, but instead go into Livingstone. Score! We could take our campsite’s shuttle there. Something interesting about the roads in Livingstone was that they were terrible. I mean, actually awful. Every time I was in a taxi, van, truck, or whatever, the drive would have to drive all over either side of the road, then off of it, just to avoid the severe potholes. It obviously speaks to some of the larger structural issues in Zambia/Southern Africa/Africa if the main road through a relatively high traffic area has been basically undrivable for the past four years.

Even though Livingstone gets a lot of tourist action, there’s not actually a whole lot going on in town. We walked down the main road to find a whole lot of nothin’, besides groups of men sitting along the street.

So we made our way down to the market, where there’s a row of stalls of all sorts of goods. It was definitely overwhelming at first. “My sister, I give you the best price, just for you.” Etc. Etc. Every person wanted us to look at their goods, even though they were all very similar. After awhile though, some of us bought a few things and they seemed to mellow out, and it was easier to chat with them (shoutout to Lawrence of Arabia). We even played a game with them that was similar to mancala. I can’t say I was very good, so good thing I had a local helping me.

Hanging out with the locals

  On Saturday we headed to Zimbabwe for the day. We started off the day at Vic Falls. The Zim side, which contains about 70% of the falls, was much less misty so the views were even better. It depends whether it is dry or wet season whether the Zambian or Zim side is clearer. I was able to see a lot more of the falls and it continued to be just as unbelievable as it was in Zambia, and it was awesome that I could see even more of it. The walk along the edge was about an hour long and the best part was at the end, Danger Point. Here, we could walk up this point that is on the very edge. It felt like I could reach out and actually touch the falls. I could also see about a million rainbows (estimate approximate). Also, you should all Google images of Vic Falls and Danger Point because I don't have any pictures, and it's really, really awesome.

Country Number 9

This isn't Vic Falls. This is, however, me and some warthogs chillin' outside the falls.

 

Once we dried off, the next stop was the market. The Zim market was ten times more overwhelming than the Zambian one. Not only was it much larger in size, but the vendors were much more forceful. “Just looking” was by no means an option, as men would constantly come over and make you look at their goods. It took a bit of getting used to, but I think I made some good bargains, including trading a pair of shorts and a shirt (my unattractive safari clothes that I refuse to wear outside of the bush). It was nice to know that I was supporting the local economy, since the men and women themselves make most of these crafts themselves. However, by the end, I just wanted to buy something from all the vendors. Obviously, this isn’t a feasible desire, but I felt pretty sad about how much there was for them to sell and how little money they’re actually making.

"Hi Bridget. My name is So-and-so. Come look at my shop and I'll give you the best price." x100

  After that, we had a few more stops. First we went to the Victoria Falls Hotel to check out the spectacular view.  I’m pretty sure this is the hotel where exuberantly wealthy European come to stay and was far classier than I was. We then went to check out the Big Tree. No seriously, it was a giant baobab tree called the Big Tree. Next up was another hotel to watch another awesomely awesome sunset, then it was time for dinner.

Check out that mist

Finally, I'm not the giant in a picture with these three.

  We went to this cool restaurant called The Boma. We walked in, got some face paint, and were dressed in some African cloth. Then the rest of the night was pretty much spent eating my weight in all sorts of crazy foods. I started out with black bean soup (normal), then had crocodile tail, impala, and guinea fowl, the latter being payback for breaking the truck’s windshield. For the main course I had kudu, ostrich, and warthog. Who knew Pumbaa could taste so good?! I also ate another worm, and this one was tastier. The restaurant also had some great entertainment, and we did a bit of drumming before heading out.

Check out how good we look

The usual dinner: warthog, kudu, and ostrich

  Here’s the deal: we had to make sure to leave the restaurant in time to get to the Zim border post to make it back to Zambia by 10, when both posts close. So we made it through the Zim post easily, but it was about 9:40 by then. Apparently, it is possible to get stuck in No Man’s Land between the two posts if we didn’t get to Zambia by 10. It is probably about 3K between the two posts, so to make it in time we had to run (in the rain, with backpacks and flip flops and really full bellies). There were also no lights in this stretch, so it was up to me to throw on my head torch and light the path for everyone. The first of the group got to the post around 9:55, and we all safely, but barely, made it through to Zambia. Yikes!

Trailblazing through No Man's Land. Also, I'm never going anywhere without my headtorch.

We made it back to Zambia! Close call.

 

I flew out of Livingstone on Sunday and was back to beautiful LBG Sunday night to get back to real life. Aaaand that’s the basics of my trip, everyone.

So yes, my passport looks cooler than me now, but more importantly, I just had the experience of a lifetime. So a big thank you to the elephants, giraffes, hippos, friends,  and Zambians that gave me a pretty wild 10 days. Today also marks the two-month mark until I hop on a plan out of Cape Town. It seems like both a very long and very short amount of time. My plan is to have many more Cape Town adventures, so stay tuned.

Cheers!