Gee Cee, Intrepid Traveler

I leave in the morning (Friday) for Victoria Falls (Zambia side), coming back Sunday. I am very, very excited. The fact that it's just pouring here and 75 and sunny there has much to do with it.

I still haven't picked up batteries for the camera, and I'm hoping I can do that at one of the airports. I may pay extra, but, at this point, I would have to pay for a cab to and from downtown or the V&A, so I'm going for staying dry and warm. Warmish.

When I first got here, I thought I would get used to the hills and the rilly rilly steep stairs. Sad to say, I have not. I had to pick up laundry right after school, and, since I worked on my Constitutional Law final after class this morning, I had my computer and books with me, too. It was one hill, but a big'un, and it was pouring, and I was just whipped before I was even half way home. Sad sad sad.

Then, I decided I needed to go to the cash machine, which is back down the hill. There is an alternate route, though: stairs, followed by a fairly manageable hill. I took that down, and I hauled myself back up. My lungs hurt like a pack-a-day smoker's by the time I hit my front door.

It's not just the stairs, or the hill, really. It's the weird combination of angles. De Waterkant is a neighborhood of quiet, lane-and-a-half streets, with come-and-go sidewalks. Think charming Parisian nabe, but on a really steep hill: no parking, really, but people park anyway, and really only room for one car, but there are still two-way streets. The roads are blacktop over that stone/concrete mix over cobblestones (there are some impressive potholes that chronicle the development of paving techniques), and they are all heavily -- not banked, really, but maybe "guttered" is the word? They are, from side to side, like very steep traffic calming bumps, or "sleeping policemen." So, if you're going to walk in the street, you have to walk pretty much down the middle, because otherwise you just fall over.

You have to walk in the street, too, because the sidewalks are very narrow, constructed from slate or bricks or paving stones (and, so, very very slippery in the rain), and punctuated frequently with trees, stairs up to a front door, walls demarcating front porches, cars, whatever you can imagine. And they are invariably no more than 24 inches wide. AND, they generally slope toward the street as well as downhill, but occasionally away from the road, down toward a parking lot entrance or something. It's impossible to describe, and when I have batteries for my camera, I will take pictures.

So most of us end up walking in the street. But good heavens drivers here are not tolerant of pedestrians! I mean, it's really hard to get out the way when you have to leap the trench by the side of the road to get to the slippery slope that is the sidewalk--if there's not a tree or decorative structure there. Nor do drivers believe in stopping for, oh, stop signs. The result is a truly scary experience every time one leaves the house, and, again, a sore neck from staring at one's feet and trying to make sure you know exactly what the next step has in store.

It's exhausting. The younguns do the hills as easily as they wolf down those beer chasers, but I and my creaky knees are just not up to it.

I got back from the BP and checked my email, and then my roommates wandered into the kitchen, and then Janice came over, and then I spent a few minutes proofing my exam, emailed it in, gloated and mingled over pizza with the Clan, and now I have to pack and get ready for my very cushy trip to Vic Falls.

There are some advantages to age, I must say. My hotel is the Zambezi Sun. Google it and eat your heart out.