
Elephant at sunset, South Luangwa park.
I've just come across this entirely by accident, and I don't know if I've seen it since I wrote it. I pass it on as it is, with a photo or two, and I'll see if I can find any more notes from this trip.
26 May, 2002, Kapani Lodge, Zambia: Sure the getting here was miserable. Thirteen thousand one hundred four kilometers was the first plane ride - leave shore over Charleston, South Carolina and don't see it again until Cape Town. On the map it was as if the continents were mountain peaks and we slid down the valley called the Atlantic.
That got us to Cape Town where it never dawned but rather the distinct gray of winter merely brightened up. Nine more hours of airports, and these were the difficult hours, hours 18 - 26 straight in public places, but finally, Lusaka.
Familiar traits of the developing world that once made us uneasy - only because of their familiarity - flooded back and this time were welcoming: The scent of wood fires, a banner marking independence (37 years ago) over the airport road, dust, pedestrians, desultory construction, and then the Holiday Inn and our room, where the air conditioning worked.
It would shortly be dark and after thirty-plus hours now we threw off our travel clothes and immediately went to find dinner. We never planned to see more of Lusaka than the view of a few concrete high rise blocks from the third floor elevator landing.
There was an Irish pub in the hotel - I think they called it McGinty's - and we downed a number of the local brew, called Mosi after the indigenous name for Victoria Falls, Mosi O Tunya, or the smoke that thunders. By now we'd drunk beer and napped and flown and done all that over again a few times. A buffet opened at 6:30 and we gorged and then slept twelve hours straight.
Then it was Saturday and a man named Webby delivered us back to the same airport and after hunting we found a woman named Beatrice from the copper belt (up by Lubumbashi, Congo where everybody's an expat in the mine trade and therefore a place that needs a travel agent, which Beatrice was). Beatrice was going where we were going. Nobody else seemed to be until finally we hunted down Ryan, a boy pilot from Durban, and finally we rounded up Kitty and Meva who were also thoroughly lost, and we loaded up the Cessna and left.