February 23, 2007
The last day of the safari. We didn’t have far to go today. A few hours of driving and we’d cross the border between Namibia and Zambia and arrive in Livingstone. Before we got there, though, we had a short game drive in the morning where we witnessed a beautiful sunrise and ended up not seeing much wildlife at all.
The drive to Zambia was uneventful. More donkeys in the road. Some light traffic along with three swedish busses. We got to the border and we breezed through the paperwork at the Namibian border station. Jumping back in the cruiser, the Zambian border was next. Zambia was different than the other country borders, as they want to charge people lots of money to come into their country. All the richest countries had the highest penalty, the US, UK and Australia had the steepest prices. Luckily, we could arrange with our lodging to be put on a manifest at the border. If they did this, it would get us through the process quicker and for free. Otherwise, it would be $100 smackeroos for me and a bit less for the others. When it was my go at the desk, it was a little uncertain. I had contacted Fawlty Towers and they were supposed to have alerted the border, but I had no idea if they had or not as I was out of email contact. The border officer checked one book and almost gave up. It was his comrade next to him that gave him another manifest book that had my sheet in it. He told me “you are a lucky man.” And, I was, in more ways than he knew! I didn’t have to pay the $100 and he stamped my passport.
With that fun over, it was back in the cruiser for another hour or so to Livingstone. Zambia didn’t look all that different from Botswana and Namibia. We pushed on and stopped for lunch at a road-side restcamp. There we had our final meal together. We even had cake this time. We all hemmed and hawed and exchanged contact information and talked about what was next for each other. The trip was definitely winding down. I didn’t want it to end, really. I could have been totally happy with another week or a few months in the African bush. After lunch, while driving along, we came close to the Zambezi river at one point, and actually got near enough to Victoria Falls to see some of the smoky spray rising high into the air. We kept on, though, and headed to our first stop – to drop off Rob & Roy at the Zambezi Sun resort.
Rob and Roy had, by far, the most luxurious accommodations. Being retirees, they could afford a bit of luxury. The cruiser pulled up to the front entrance amoungst well dressed and smelly Europeans and other hoity-toity types. None of us had showered for two or three days. Rob and Roy gathered their stuff and had an emotional send-off. There were hugs all around and kisses on cheeks and lips and Rob couldn’t hold back her tears. It had been an amazing trip and the emotion was warranted, I thought.
Martin was next as his place was close to the Zambezi Sun. He was staying at a place called the Waterfront. It was right on the Zambezi River and he could probably hear Vic Falls roaring all night. He was staying in a tent again. In the end, I think out of all of us, Martin was the most unhappy with his accommodation. Apparently it was expensive for what it was and they hit him with some unexpected charges. I think it was a place that got uncaring rich white folks.
From there we headed more towards the center of Livingstone. My stop was next – Fawlty Towers. My heart sank a bit as we drove into town and turned off the main road, paralleling a strip of shops littered with people both in the shops, on the sidewalk and in the unpaved parking area. I was going to be leaving the relative safety of the safari vehicle and group and was once again going to be on my own. No one else from the group was staying at Fawlty Towers. The cruiser stopped and we were mobbed by street merchant kids and adults. I turned around and said goodbye to Jason and Jade and said to Jen that I’d talk to her later (we’d already planning on hanging out). I jumped out of the cruiser, forgetting a small bag of snacks I had hanging on a seat, grabbed my small backpack as Martin grabbed my main bag out of the trailer. We both went in through the secured gates to the reception desk of Fawlty Towers. Martin set down my bag and I walked back towards the gate with him and gave him a crisp $100 bill as a gratuitous tip for such a great experience. I asked him to split it with Manilow – hopefully he got his share! I think that was a good tip, it was about $700 Namibian dollars. I’m not sure what salary averages are, but the US Dollar goes pretty far in Namibia.
And that was it. My safari was over. I had to fend for myself once again. I was tired and felt gross and was sad to be apart from friends once again. I quickly discovered people at Fawlty Towers weren’t all that friendly, but they weren’t necessarily unfriendly. Maybe it was the mood I was in, or my exhaustion, but it wasn’t particularly easy to talk to anyone. At other hostels, a simple hi and a smile could be a conversation starter. Maybe people here were a bit more skeptical due to the perceived danger we were in even being there. So, hmmm. Then I realized I was completely out of contact with Martin (from Australia) and had no idea how we were going to coordinate doing stuff the next day. to top it off, the stupid reception desk at Fawlty Towers wouldn’t let me use their phone. The only solution one guy had was I could go buy a top-up voucher for his mobile phone, and then I could use it to make some calls. Jackass. Thanks, dude.
So, I ventured out into the unknown streets of Livingstone and got a SIM card for my phone instead. The journey was short, and was absolutely no problem other than a couple easily-dismissable street kids selling junky bracelets. The market where I could buy the SIM card was just a few doors down from the hostel. The store was well marked with CelTel signage. It was just a grocery store, but there was a knowledgeable young local there that helped me out. I bought a SIM card and a 5,000 Kwacha voucher of time and went back to Fawlty Towers to see who I could contact. I found the number for Jollyboys, where Jen was staying, and gave them a call. They knew who Jen was and put me on hold so they could find her. Shortly after I was on hold, not even two minutes, the call was disconnected. I was already out of airtime! 5,000 Kwacha is just over $1 and I’m not sure how much calls were per minute. Back to the store. This time I bought a 20,000 Kwacha top-up and accomplished my mission. I got a hold of Jen and arranged to meet her at Jollyboys for dinner.
This is how dire it can be in southern Africa. Jollyboys hostel is a few hundred yards from Fawlty Towers. Someone even said you can see Fawlty Towers from Jollyboys. During the day, it’s a 15-minute walk and anyone might be safe. At night, no one working at any hostel or hotel will let anyone leave their premises without calling a taxi. The natives are that restless. According to one taxi driver, if a white tourist were to walk from hostel to hostel, they would not make it. Period. There are people hiding, waiting to rob and kill anyone out walking around. First they rob, then for fear of being reported to the police, they go ahead and beat the shit out of you so you can’t run to the police. I decided to always take a cab. It was only 10,000 kwacha one way. A small price to pay during the day or night.
So, anyway, I caught a cab to Jollyboys. And, I was immediately struck with the realization I had booked the wrong hostel! Jollyboys is the place to be if you ever go to Victoria Falls and want to stay in a decent hostel. The only thing I didn’t like compared to Fawlty Towers were the size of the rooms and the number of people in each room. I had a 4-bed room at Fawlty Towers that I ended up sharing with 3 very nice and cute English girls (who subsequently enjoyed lounging in the room in their underwear!). Jen’s room at Jollyboys had 16 beds! That would be too many people coughing, grunting, snoring, farting, etc. for me to be undisturbed enough to sleep (I’m a light sleeper). Everything else, though, was just better than Fawlty Towers. The location of the bar, the free beer upon arrival, free dinner, location of the pool, more than one internet computer, friendlier people (probably due to the free beer). It just had a better feel. I had originally decided against booking at Jollyboys as I thought it looked and sounded like a noisy, drunken party place. I didn’t want that.
Not that Fawlty Towers was bad. It ended up being quite the opposite, really, and I enjoyed my stay there. More about it in the next post about me and Martin’s adventures at Vic Falls, the booze cruise and with 23 Belgians.
I arrived at Jollyboys in my 10,000 Kwacha cab and went in to look for Jen. I greeted the receptionist who I’d talked to on several occasions. She was very nice. The receptionist pointed me to Jen’s room where she was packing up. She was going on another overnight safari to Chobe National Park in Botswana the next morning. Jen gave me a little tour of the place. Since Jen had checked in for two nights, they had given her two free meal tickets. But, she’d be on the safari the next night, so she had an extra for the night. Needless to say, I had a free meal that night! It was quite good too. Very similar food to what we’d had on the safari. A meaty stew, a veggie stew, some pap and some dish I can’t remember. The only thing out of the ordinary was a bowl of fried grub worms or something quite disturbingly insect-like. I skipped eating them … we grabbed a beer from the bar and settled in to chow down. (I only briefly mention that Jason and Jade were staying at Jollyboys too, but we didn’t speak to them at all.)
We finished eating and got another beer. Then the fun started! I think we saw Martin (guide Martin) first. I yelled “hey” to him as he walked by. Shortly after we saw Manilow. I asked him if I could get into the cruiser quickly so I could retrieve a couple things. Rob and Roy had bought me a big bottle of Hansa as they had mistakenly enjoyed a couple of my beers along the way. I figured Jen and I should enjoy it. And, I thought I’d grab my bag-o-snacks, too. Manilow unlocked the door, I grabbed my bag, and found there were TWO big beers in the cooler. I grabbed them both and my bag and headed back to the table. Unbeknownst to me, one of the big beers was Martin’s (the guide). I would have never thought it was, because he doesn’t drink! Apparently, though, Manilow said Martin bought it for a lady friend of his. Woo woo! I willingly gave it back and asked Manilow to apologize for me …
Back to our beers … it seemed right after that exchange, Martin from Australia unexpectedly comes walking into Jollyboys! How perfect! He had to report he hadn’t had the best afternoon after being dropped off. He told us about the Waterfront and how it’s a rip-off. He couldn’t get money out of the ATM and other bad luck. A few beers later and all was happy again. While we were sitting there, we met a 20-something guy Peace Corps volunteer. He was there alone, so he joined us in drinking. A little later, another Peace Corps volunteer showed up. They both were volunteering there in Zambia, not far from Livingstone. I want to say the first guy was 35 km from Livingstone? Most of which he had to walk since the village he was in was so remote. They had some good stories to tell and were in Livingstone to meet the US Ambassador to Zambia for some reason they didn’t know. No one seemed this friendly at Fawlty Towers. Like I said, go to Jollyboys if you find yourself needing a hostel in Livingstone.
Martin and I planned to meet at Fawlty Towers the next day to book a sunset/booze cruise and to go see Victoria Falls. Knowing that, and how tired I was, I called it a night and caught another cab back the short distance to Fawlty Towers. It was during this cab ride I learned the horror that waits in the night around Livingstone (mentioned earlier). The other strange thing at Fawlty Towers was their room key policy. If you were leaving the hostel, you had to turn in your key to the front desk. At the desk, there were all these keys just sitting on the desk. When you came back, you just grabbed your key out of the bunch and headed to your room. Strange. I got back and found the key to my room gone. In my slightly buzzed state, I didn’t know what to do. If the door was locked and the girls were asleep, I didn’t want to bang on the door and wake them. I asked the front-gate guy and he went up to the room with me and found the door unlocked and the girls awake … I felt sorta stupid, but whatever. They were all awake, chatting half-naked about their plans for the next day.
I didn’t want to go to bed just yet, with my alcohol buzz. I brushed my teeth and headed down to the lobby to see if the computer was free and if there was anything on TV. The computer wasn’t free and there were a few people silently watching TV. I think this was part of the problem with the social aspect of Fawlty Towers. In the lobby, which is usually the social hub of a hostel, they had a pool table, a TV surrounded by couches, the bar (which is also the reception desk), and the internet computer. No one was ever at the bar. Folks were usually doing one of three separate things and there wasn’t much interaction. Jollyboys only has a TV above the bar. Have I complained enough about Fawlty Towers? All I can say is the name fits … 