Heidi Connal

I am right now sitting on a lounge chair in what can only be described as an oasis of a campsite.  The flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg was long, but uneventful except for the women with very loud voices sitting behind us.  They were fine when they went to sleep, but when they were chatting – ohboy.  We know all about this woman and her husband Cecil and the various property investments they have.  Made their money from RV parks, apparently.  Who knew what a lucrative business that was?

Anyway, we arrived in Johannesburg on time, got to our flight to Zimbabwe, and arrived safe and sound at Victoria Falls around noon.  There are baboons everywhere.  We’d arranged for an airport transfer to the campsite where we’re supposed to meet our safari tour group.  They started in Johannesburg on June 2, and are due here sometime this evening.  The campsite is in Zambia, which means we had to cross the border and – of course – use up a visa I hadn’t planned on using this soon.  But it’s all good, we’ll just get another when we go back to Zimbabwe to see the Falls from the “prettier” side.

Anyway, the Marambu campsite has a lovely little pool that looks like something out of a real estate magazine.  It’s decorated with little rocks and a waterfall, and was nice and cold for my very swollen feet.  (Well, you try flying for 19 total hours and see how your feet react).  So we’ve been sitting here next to the pool for a few hours reading our books.  There’s a little lake/pond/swamp behind us with a sign in front of it with a picture of a crocodile.  It reads, “Be careful.  I live here.”  I can’t vouch for the crocodile, but the three hippopotami seem very happy there.  The little baby (and I use the term “little” loosely) is cute.  I want to call the mom Henrietta, but I’m not sure why.  Is there a children’s storybook with Henrietta Hippo somewhere?  They’re very lazy.  Don’t do much but surface, snort, and go back under.  In the past 5 hours, they’ve moved about 10 feet.  Maybe that’s what I’ll be in my next lifetime.

Poolside in Zambia!

Later…

Our Kiboko Trek Group arrived around 6:30PM.  Once the sun goes down, it gets very cold here because we’re still pretty far south – so it’s wintertime. So we were freezing and ready to book our own tent, shower and sleep.  But luckily they arrived!  We set up our tent in the dark, and got our sleeping bags settled in.  There are 17 people on the trek, plus our two guides.  Here’s the lowdown on the group:

• 4 crazy Aussie guys – Dennis, Matt, Jason, and Brandon
• 2 girls named Andrea.  One is from Prague, the other from Austria
• 1 girl from Amsterdam named Mathilde
• A lawyer named Juliette from Capetown, South Africa
• Kerry from London who smashed her knee moments before we met her and was understandably unhappy.
• A man from France named Didier who owns a chain of hair salons.  Oui, oui!
• 4 Russian gentlemen, one of whom was in the Russian arm for 20 years.  He (Vladimir) found it notable that “all four superpowers of the world” were represented by our group.
• Susan, an older women from South Africa
• Our two guides: Brandon and Vanessa

Our first sunset in Africa

Vanessa and Brandon made dinner.  Apparently, there are two additional people “on duty” each day to assist with cutting veggies, cleaning pots and pans and any other stuff.  Jon and I are at the end of the list, but we’ll come up soon.

We socialized for a while and then went (finally) to shower.  Technically, this is the first shower either of us has had in two days.  The camp showers – while in an enclosed area – is wide open to the air.  So the temp is about 45-50 degrees by now, and the air around the shower  is cold!  I attempted to shave my legs, but the goosebumps caused me to nick myself quite a few times.

We were told to watch out for the hippos in the middle of night as they sometimes get out and walk around.  Lovely – be careful on midnight bathroom breaks!

So it’s 9:30 AM on Sunday morning, and we’re sitting in Atlanta’s International Terminal waiting for our flight to South Africa to begin boarding.  We’ve been up all night, but we managed to catch a few zzzz’s on the flight from NY to GA.

We went to the most fabulous wedding last night.  One of my best friends – Alicia – got married in what was nothing less than a fairytale wedding – with some extra culture to add a twist to the fairytale.  She looked like a princess (and I’m not just saying that).  The wedding was at a beautiful Armenian church, and the reception at a gorgeous old bank-turned-event-hall in Midtown.  The food was divine, the bands were excellent, and there were bellydancers balancing candelabras and swords on their heads.  Enough said.  Brilliant night all around.

So we closed the reception down and said good-bye to our friends at about 2:30AM.  Then Jon and I went home to do one last load of laundry, finish packing, and clean the remainder of the apartment for the sub-letters.  At about 5:00AM, we were completely running late for our 6:30AM flight, not to mention seeing double due to lack of sleep.  So we out into the very foggy weather and tried to hail a cab, which wasn’t working well for us.  Aside from a very small percentage of Wall Street, any sane New Yorker is still in bed at 5:00, so we were completely shocked that we couldn’t get a cab.  Finally, a livery cab drove up (a Lincoln for hire) and we negotiated a price and got in.

This is how we almost didn’t make it:  After we got through the Holland Tunnel, it seemed like the wheel suspension was slightly off, as the car was swerving just a bit – like a few inches at a time.  But the driver would pull it back and we’d continue on.  This isn’t always unusual in cabs, albeit slightly annoying for the passengers in the car as you get a bit of whiplash.  But you learn to deal.  However, it wasn’t until he crossed into another lane and swerved back to his lane that Jon and I looked at each other.  My first thought was “Oh My God.  We’ve hired a drunk driver.”  But Jon realized that the guy was falling asleep at the wheel.  He said, “Hey.  Are you OK?”  And the cabbie woke up and said “Yeah, yeah, fine.”  Yeah.  Right.  I was traumatized as visions of us plowing into a concrete barricade went through my mind.  How ironic that we were going to die on our way to Newark.  But Jon (smart man that I married) proceeded to start a conversation with our narcoleptic cab driver so he would stay awake.  It doesn’t sound so bad now in print, but we really were freaked out by the entire experience.  On the plane to Atlanta, Jon looked at me and said, “Wow.  We could have died this morning”.  But I guess you had to be there.  How funny that our experience began with a nightmare cab ride on the NJ Turnpike!  I can’t wait for what’s next.

Speaking of, we’re off to board our 15 hour flight to Johannesburg now.  Cheers!