I
found my way to the Livingstone bus station where I got on a “Shalom” bus to
Lusaka, the capital. Oh man, it was a long day, as are all travel days. The bus
actually left a couple of minutes ahead of schedule, which was surprising. The
bus ride was supposed to be 7 hours, but we had to stop a few times because the
engine was overheating and they had to pour water down in there, so it turned
out to be longer. So it goes. My kindle and podcasts saved the day once again.
I also pondered what to do with my tent and how to fix the snapped pole. I’d
made so many repairs on that thing: sewing, gluing, taping, etc. For a R200
tent (about $15), it’s done a really god job for me and other PCVs on camping
trips in Lesotho and for my past two months traveling.
The
bus finally touched down in Lusaka and I grabbed my bags from underneath. I had
planned to stay at Wanderers, a backpackers with camping, but since my tent was
currently unusable, I instead went to Flinstones Backpackers, the closest one
to the bus station. I got a dorm bed for K70/night, and quickly regretted my
decision to stay there, as the hostel is pretty crappy. No hot water in most
bathrooms, no water at all in others, everything is super run down, they have a
sketchy kitchen, and their wifi was not free and was only sporadically working.
It’s accurately named, though, because this place is fit for the Stone Age. The
next day after I checked in, I decided to scout out other hostels in the
neighborhood, thinking that I probably should have spent more nights in
Livingstone instead of here in Lusaka. My wander around the block revealed two
or three other backpackers, all much more expensive, but they looked marginally
nicer. Oh well, I would settle for Flinstones for the sake of cash money. And I
convinced myself that it wasn’t too horrible…
Other
exciting adventures in Lusaka included the mall, where I acquired some super
cheap tennis shoes. The only shoes I owned at the time were my Chacos, and I
felt like going running. I also exchanged some of my extra Rand stash for
Zambian Kwacha at an exchange place, then bought some wifi from the Vodaphone
kiosk. I was able to finally communicate to my mom who, after only three days
of no contact, had emailed the hostel looking for me. No less than three staff
members/the owners came to talk to me about her concern. Apparently she thought
that I had left Lusaka a few days earlier for Abidjan, and on that day, flights
to Abidjan were diverted all over the continent because of an enormous sand
storm. She thought I was trapped at some random airport. But nope, I was still
safe in Zambia, just without the ability to communicate.
Also
staying at the hostel were a nice couple looking for a house to buy in Lusaka.
As I finished a workout in the courtyard area, the husband came up to me and
asked why I don’t talk much. I just replied that I keep to myself normally, and
that I had a lot of writing and planning to do- I didn’t come to Lusaka to
socialize and explore; it was just a temporary stop before I got a flight. He
said something silly along the lines of, “But you came to Africa to make
friends, to talk to indigenous people like me.” Yes, he actually used the word
indigenous. Hah nope, dude, you don’t even know me. That’s not actually why I
came to Africa. I explained that I had been in the Peace Corps and now was traveling
around. In my current destination, I just hadn’t met any worthy vacation
friends to be sociable with in this boring non-destination.
My
last day, I walked to a different mall to print some things I would need for my
Côte d’Ivoire visa. I strategically spent the rest of my Kwacha on some street
food, including a pre-sliced mango, and some more wifi. Then the morning I left,
I got on a 5am taxi (K250/$25…yowza) to the airport. At the check-in desk,
apparently I needed a printed copy of my Côte d’Ivoire visa application receipt
(you apply for the Côte d’Ivoire visa online), so the agent was really nice and
had me email it to her and she printed it out for me.
I
would be taking three flights: backtracking from Lusaka, Zambia to
Johannesburg, Joburg to Accra, Ghana, then Accra to Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire. My
ultimate goal was to get to Liberia, but the flight into Liberia was at least
four times more expensive than a flight into Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire, which is
the country just to the east of Liberia. I figured that I’d save a bunch of
money by flying in there, then just taking a bus across the country into
Liberia. Also, given that I hadn’t been able to get a Liberia visa in South
Africa, I would have to do it in Abidjan, which is the only other relatively
close place that had an embassy. Somehow I was afraid that they wouldn’t give
me my visa when I arrived. I had no reason to believe this, but there’s always
something that seems to go wrong. My nervousness about visas was mostly fueled
by the Malawi fiasco (see Panic! At the Border post), but I convinced myself that
everything would be fine. Things always work out. Not necessarily the way you
thought, or in the time frame you expected, but they always do.
In my next post, follow your intrepid
hero as she finds that her fears were real, and she does, in fact, have another Panic! at the border moment. It never
ends, does it?
Sorry I have no photos of Lusaka, because,
well, it was nothing special. There are lots more photos to come, though!
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