You say tomato, I say... er, not today thanks. |
Crossing to Zambia was pretty straight
forward. Having a Carnet de Passage
makes it quite simple now: there's only a few details to fill in, compared to
the multiple forms of Central America, for example - a welcome relief that
speeds me on my way.
Yet, it's already 9.30am and the sun is high, and getting higher by the mile. The heat has me wearing a water-soaked bandanna on my neck to try and stay cool. The trick is actually very effective, so watching those old cowboy movies on TV must have taught me something after all.
One big stretch of riding gets me as far as Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, where I find basic hostel facilities and get an early night. The thumping bar music and a dorm full with transitting backpackers and road-weary sales reps means I'm still looking for a peaceful sleep. I'm too tired to plan sight-seeing, but as the guide book reports few attractions beyond the local craft markets I probably haven't missed too much.
Herding wild cats through a mouse sanctuary would be easier than getting these gals to stay still... |
Another, longer hop starts at 7am, Saturday
and ten hours later I pull into another hostel.
Somewhere on that 600 km stretch of asphalt I crossed another border,
since today's push has seen me reach all the way to Lilongwe, capital of Malawi.
So, did Zambia register at all on the
adventure-journey monitor? Barely, I
have to admit. The timing was
unfortunate: I've already seen my share of Victoria Falls and Lake Kariba, and
visited a few game parks too. Zambia's
thunder has been stolen. The rest, as
they say, is history, and I've only skim read the guide book on that score.
Until I can return in the 'green' season,
driving a nice 4x4 and armed with a bigger credit card, the Zambia that I
remember will be limited to tomatoes and charcoal, wood stacks and roadside
flea markets. A fine diversion if you
are parked up in the shade for a rest, but hardly the stuff of exciting movies
- or blog posts, it has to be said!
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