My eyes were glued to the porthole as I took in my first views of Africa. An immense flat plateau extended hundreds of kilometres in all directions. I couldn’t wait to get out and explore.
I had taken the opportunity to join my husband on a ten-day trip to South Africa and Zambia. He had been travelling to South Africa regularly for the past two years on business for the bank. After pouring over countless pictures of lions, zebras, elephants and amazing scenery I also wanted to get to know Africa. The tiny airport consisted of a simple hangar with a few small planes stationed near the runway. As we walked to the arrival hall there was already a line-up for immigration. Thirty minutes later the Zambian authorities handed me over a one-month visa upon arrival in exchange of US$50. I picked up my luggage and headed for the exit. Marvin, a driver from the hotel we booked, was waiting for us with a sign. He smiled and asked us to please take a seat until the other four passengers had arrived. All the locals here were black. I took a seat and was greeted by a waft of the sweet-sour odour of sweat. Two armed guards stood by the entrance holding their rifles.
As we left the building and stepped outside I noticed the blue open sky. Here I was in a country where I had no marks. Accacia and plumeria trees stood in neat rows. We boarded a mini van and Marvin made his way through Livingstone and to our hotel. He told us that he was studying to be an engineer and worked as a driver to help bring home money to his mother and brother since his father passed away not long ago. He enjoyed living in Livingstone and working with tourists. As he drove along the main road called Mosi-o-Tunya (The smoke that thunders) he pointed to some of the colonial buildings and gave us a brief history. The original town, located closer to the falls, was moved here in the early 1900’s, due to large infestations of malaria, and named after the famous Scottish explorer and missionary David Livingstone.
It felt as if time had stood still in 1950. Crumbling colonial houses built by the British were signposted. We turned off and headed down a unpaved road to the hotel. A few courageous locals were rattling along with their bicycles and others were on foot balancing provisions on their heads. We stopped at the hotel, where we had reserved for three nights. We were shown to our bungalow along the river and surprised to hear that we had received an upgrade to the top floor: it was low season. There was a problem though, they had just sprayed the beams with a toxic paint and it smelled very strongly of tar. We asked to see another room, which was a bit better, but still smelled. We were normally not fussy guests, but we could not stay in those rooms in those conditions. We stepped into their last free room, located by the road and right next to the main generator. This time the receptionist said that she could smell the paint! The manager was very kind and had another option for us.
We were sent with someone to visit the hotel next door: The David Livingstone Safari Lodge. A closely manicured lawn lead along a long colonial style building with apparent beams, past the kitchen and bar, up the steps to the reception that was located under an enormous roof covered in grass. I was breath taken; the place looked stunning, very chic and right next to the Zambezi River! It was probably very expensive too. I had spent many weeks looking at hotels in this area and this was one I had immediately found attractive.
A beautiful tall black receptionist welcomed us and guided us along a covered walkway to show us her vacant rooms. The “standard room” was located on the second floor, overlooked the river with an adjoining balcony. A queen size bed draped with a large mosquito next stood in the middle of the room along with a desk, huge mirror, comfortable chairs, bathroom, shower, bathtub, bathrobes, slippers. It was very luxurious compared to our usual standards of travel. I held my breath until she quoted the price: US150 per night. It was cheaper than the first place but so much better. We couldn’t believe our luck and did not hesitate to say we’d take it.
We moved our things from the first place and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing by the river. We had a late lunch under a parasol of the Gwembe Terrace overlooking the Zambezi, Africa’s fourth largest river. Waiters in cream coloured uniforms bustled around us to see if we needed anything. All the employees locally employed and spoke English. From the restaurant you could see the spray of the Victoria Falls in the distance. We were located only 7 km away. The crew of the The Lady Livingstone Cruise Ship was getting ready to welcome its guests for a two-hour tour accompanied by live music. The pool, surrounded by blooming bushes, palm trees, a row of lounge chairs, looked very inviting. I wondered where the hippos were hiding?
The sunset over the Zambezi was stunning, a big red ball of fire. We spent a while admiring the hotels architecture and decorations, even the signs were well integrated and carefully drawn. Dinner was served in the Kalai Restaurant, on the upper level terrace overlooking the river.
