July 5 -- The Final Chapter

The road back to the hotel--where we had to drop off Geek and Glitter before my next tour--had no lions, but I asked Angel to stop at a baobab tree we had passed on our way in. The tree is enormous, and I was so intrigued by it being a baobab--I immediately thought I had dropped into The Little Prince.

It is hundreds of years old, and it seems to have been tradition for visitors to carve their names and the dates they were here in the trunk. The tree can take it, apparently, because the carvings go way up the trunk.

I don't know if you can see it, but, toward the top of the photo, about 7 feet off the ground, are the initials CHPO, followed by the year: 1947.

Some branches are propped up, and there is a ladder up to a platform in some of the lower branches. Angel asked if I wanted to climb up to see more carvings and the terrific view of the Falls. I demurred, but only because I was in a skirt.

Before we left, I asked Angel to stand in front of le Baobab so my readers could get an idea of scale. I admit, I just wanted to have a picture of him.

Geek and Glitter never left the van. Americans are strange. Angel had told me that the night before, driving back from the sunset cruise, there had been a python on the road. All the trucks and buses stopped. He had a few American passengers, and one of them decided to get out of the truck to take a closer look. Angel exclaimed. The guy said, "Oh, my friend in America has one, and he's really gentle." Angel explained that, sometimes, animals in the wild are not quite as sympathetic to interference as animals that spend their lives in a big aquarium in someone's living room. He lost a really good Darwin Awards entry, I think.

We headed back to drop G&G off at the Livingstone and then to go on my next tour, the Bridge Tour. I had grand visions of this tour--something along the lines of the Tower Bridge tour, with videos and pictures of the laborers and models of the bridge in various stages of construction, followed by a close inspection of the bridge and its supports.

Well, not quite. We drove to the site, got out, walked across the bridge, looked at the incredibly beautiful scenery, watched a couple of people bungee over the edge, went back to the car, and drove away. The reason you are encouraged to have a guide for this tour is to save you the hassle of going through immigration on the way back. I found this out later, though.

The bridge was a standard railroad bridge, built by Cecil Rhodes to connect his industries to his trade routes. Later, I think, they added a roadbed.

The road isn't very wide--maybe a car-and-a-half--and there wasn't much of a sidewalk. We plastered ourselves against the railing when big flatbeds carrying copper tubing went through.

So, you have the bridge, you have the river beneath, and you have the Falls.

From here, you can see that the Falls are not really "out in the open." The canyon zigs and zags, so you never really have a full, head-on view of the cascade.

From here or the hotel, that is. If you hike in a bit farther than I went, you can actually cross the river to Livingstone Island, where, I am sure, the view and the mist are overwhelming. You can see the pedestrian bridge in the background:And when I use the handy digital zoom feature:
Those are people on the right.

Looking down on the Falls side of the bridge, you can see how powerful the Zambezi is.

Angel said a couple of things about the bridge, and he showed me the special "water tight" rivets they used, but, for the most part, we were quiet. It was so beautiful.

The border between Zambia and Zimbabwe is about 3/4's of the way across the bridge.

We crossed the border, went to the end of the bridge, and turned around. We came up the railroad bed on the way back, where there were sidewalks.

The view of the river from the railroad side is heart-stopping.

And, because there's a sidewalk on this side, there is also more activity. There are merchants hawking their wares, there are tourists, and there is a steady stream of people crossing from Zimbabwe to Zambia. We made it back to the "good side" safely.
Honestly, these signs looked to be not much more than an old piece of chalkboard nailed to a 2x4. I thought there'd be something more impressive, but, as usual, I thought wrong.

Just over the border, back in Zambia, there is a platform for the bungee jump and bungee chair.
We were lucky enough to see two people go over the edge.

It looked like a ton of fun, but, again, I was in a skirt, and I wasn't sure about the cost. I think that was my second mistake for the day, though. I don't know when I'll ever have that chance again.

We wandered back to the van, fighting off the vendors, and went back through immigration. There was a large crowd outside, which seemed odd, since it was about 2:00 (1400 hrs). It honestly looked a little dicey, and when Angel went in to take care of the paperwork, I kept my eyes on the floor in order not to invite any vendors. They will walk up to the car windows and hold up their jewelry or carvings or drawings and talk in a rapid but soft patter, asking for your help, for just a few minutes of y0ur time, for a very good price on something beautiful. As we drove away, I just held up the camera and snapped.

I thought it would have been rude, if not illegal, to take pictures of people standing in line to have their passports checked.

That was the end of my planned activities for the day, and I asked Angel what I could do with the rest of my afternoon and evening. I didn't want to waste it by the pool, really, and I knew I didn't want to travel without a guide.

He suggested a river safari. A little like the Sunset Cruise, a river safari takes you out in the late afternoon in a smaller speedboat that is much lower to the water. The boat seats about 8. Angel was worried that there would be no places left, but he got me on one and told me to be ready to go at 3:30 (1530 hrs). We also decided I'd go to the Livingstone Museum Sunday morning before they took me to the airport.

We passed these guys on the driveway to the hotel:


I had a little over an hour to kill before the cruise, and I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. I washed my face and tried to spruce up a little, changed into something that would be a little warmer after sunset, and then I just walked around the hotel.

There is a row of shops near the Barclay's Bank, and I browsed a bit. Then I stopped at the snack bar to get a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. While I was sipping and staring off into space, I overheard a distressing interchange between the manager and the counter clerk.

Manager: "Is this one not working?"
Clerk: "No [mumble mumble]."
Manager: "Then why are you keeping the meat in there?"

I was glad I hadn't ordered a sandwich.

Being my mother's daughter, I arrived at the Activity Center long before the appointed time. I waited patiently and tried to figure out who in the crowd of obnoxious tourists I would be stuck with on my three hour cruise. The cranky old lady with the cane and, I swear, the ear trumpet? The family with scantily clad teenaged daughters? The big group who spoke no English?

Buses started to pull up, and I was waved away from each of them in turn. Not this one, not this one...we're waiting for 6 people from the other hotel. At about 3:45 the organizer motioned me into a large bus full of Spanish or Portuguese tourists, all over the age of 65. The bus was full, and a man had to move to the front seat so I could sit in a jump seat, facing sideways. There was a loud couple toward the front who kept saying, in their own language but easily understandable to me, "What's she doing here? This isn't her bus. She's on the wrong bus. She doesn't belong here." Lots of warm and welcoming stuff like that.

As soon as I got settled in, the organizer guy came back and told me to switch to a van that had just pulled up behind me. Predictably, the couple up front went on and on about how "I told you it was the wrong bus. She was on the wrong bus. I don't know what she was doing here, because it was the wrong bus." Fine.

In the van are three couples, and the oldest woman welcomes me to their safari and introduces them all. She is Sue. I thank her for her kindness and tell them that I had clearly upset the people on the bus, who could not have been snottier if they tried.

Much to my relief, they all laughed. We pulled up to the dock, piled into the boat, and the two younger women and I started chatting.

They are the Costin Family: father Larry and friend Sue, from Chicago; son Michael and wife Mindy; and daughter Jen and husband whose name I cannot remember to save my life. It's embarrassing. They had just gotten to Livingstone after travel delays of three days. The story was horrific--they were stranded in beautiful places (Brussels) but were without luggage and without information on when or if their next flight would take off. They were tired and very glad to be in the boat, relaxing. This was their second time on safari together--they were leaving for Botswana in a day or two to go on an overland safari.

So Jen and Mindy and I started chatting. Chatting chatting chatting. The boat took off, and when we were out in the open water, the driver stopped, told us the plan (we go down the river, stop in on a few island, stop to see any wildlife along the way, wind up at the beach of the Royal Livingstone), and announced that there were snacks and that the bar was open. Gin and tonics all around, and we girls started chatting again.

We were so busy talking we didn't see much wildlife, and, thank goodness, there weren't the hippos and elephants of the evening before. The boys all had the cameras, and every so often, Mindy would hand Michael a new lens or hold something for him, but, for the most part, we just talked and laughed and drank and snacked. They promised to send me their pictures.

I did get a few pictures of some more easily spotted wildlife. My first croc:

The rope in the lower left corner is one of the lines holding the canopy in place. We drove right up on the beach to see this guy.

There were also some birds that nest in the banks of the river. I have better pictures of the nests (all the holes)
than of the birds
so I am really hoping the Costins share.

We also saw a giant lizard, who is the "natural enemy of the crocodile," because he eats the croc eggs.
We stopped on an island where the guide assured us there was a building with a toilet. I wandered inland a bit, but all I could see were trees. Mindy, having heard Jen say, "Yup, these trees are just full of snakes," did not venture far past the beach.
The time flew by, and at one point, I asked, in jest, what they were doing for dinner. Larry replied, "We have reservations for 7 people at the Livingstone." So I was invited to dinner, too.

We enjoyed a lovely sunset and finally (and literally) hit the beach at the Livingstone. Everyone went back to their rooms to freshen, I found a ladies room, and we gathered in the bar before dinner.

That's not the Costins, but it is the Falls in the background. Dinner was just wonderful, too. These guys were so funny and smart and well-traveled and interesting and genuinely interested in my stories, too (or very good at pretending to be). It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

After dinner, I gave them my email addresses, hugged them goodbye, and went back to my hotel. I really hope we stay in touch. At least for the pictures of all the stuff I missed because I was busy talking.