"You Hitchhiked from Where?!"

That seems to be a fairly common response I get when I tell people how I've been traveling for the last week.

After my last post I met up with the Namibian tour people for dinner at Joe's Beer House, a bit of a splurge after a few days of belt-tightening. Because I didn't book far enough in advance, the hostel I had been staying at was full for the night. Being homeless in a foreign land is a scary prospect, so thank God for my friend Erling and his generosity or I would have been sleeping in a ditch. I packed up my shit and left the hostel, flagging down a cab. Cabs work a little differently in Namibia - they're all shared. The driver had no idea where the restaurant was, so it was a funny sight to watch the other 3 passengers grab for my travel guide map in hopes of helping me out.

I felt kind of lost in the universe carrying my gigantic pack into the restaurant, but you do what you have to when you're backpacking. We had a pretty great night, and I got to add a funky meat to my growing checklist - Zebra. Tastes like beef! Mmmm.... Leaving the restaurant, the tour people decided they wanted a real Namibian experience and called a few taxis to go to a local club. However, Erling arrived in his pickup truck to get me before the cabs, so my drunk white tourist friends packed their 20 selves into the back, instigated by some annoying girl I didn't know, and Erling dropped them off. I was kind of embarrassed that he had to do this; I knew in his generosity he couldn't say no. I slept like a baby in his spare bedroom.

The next morning, up at 6 and Erling dropped me at the minibus stop where I met a girl from Botswana - Gidi - who, like me, was going to Maun. All minibuses go in short legs, so it was going to be a long day of traveling. The first bus (packed to the brim) was going as far as Gobabis, which is about 100 km from the Botswana border. Fairly immediately it became apparent that we 2 were the only ones in town interested in continuing our travels East. We waited for at least 2 hours before a S. African truck driver in a big rig pulled over to let us in. Nice guy, but for some reason was convinced that all women smelled bad. 10 minutes into the trip we were pulled over by the police. I thought, 'oh shit, what now', but it turned out that one of the guys just wanted a lift to the border as well. How can you say no to the cops?

Pretty soon we were in the Kalahari Desert (which apparently isn't really a desert). Truck driver guy took us all the way to the crossroads where he was going south and we north. So sitting at the side of the road, I had a bit of time (an hour?) to reflect upon how darn beautiful Botswana is. I couldn't believe how flat it is. But unlike a prairie, it's covered by low bushes and trees and rests under a beautiful sky. The Botswana government subsidizes some transportation between various points. So as luck would have it, one of these ramshackle, covered-pickup-truck deathtraps stopped for us to take us the 100km to Ghanzi. I am still convinced that if I didn't make it a point to press my back against the side of the cargo bay it would have been torn apart in the wind.

About the time we arrived, it was getting dark. And although Gidi, my guardian angel slash hitchhiking mentor wanted to continue on to Maun, I knew after 20 minutes and no cars that it wasn't going to happen today. So we walked a few kilometers back to town centre and, by what I think is a miracle, found a guesthouse in a very questionable area. It wasn't exactly cheap, so decided to share a room with 2 single beds. At this point you may be questioning the wisdom of sharing a room with a strange female that I don't know. Believe me, the same thought crossed my mind - "this is really fucked up..." But after hitchhiking with someone for 12 hours you start to trust them. And she didn't rob me in the middle of the night.

So we got up the next morning and parked ourselves at the hitchhiking spot. Thankfully it only took 3 hours for someone to stop. And halfway thru the trip to Maun it started to rain. While it may not have been a great idea, maneuvering half standing up in the back of a crowded pickup traveling about 120 kph to extricate a raincoat out of your bag is a hell of a lot of fun. The beer cans flying out the driver side window was surreal (everyone in Botswana - and probably Africa for that matter - drinks and drives). "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING THIS!" kept running through my head. By another strange coincidence, I ran into some of the Namibia tour people as soon as I got dropped off.

With a final minibus taxi I made the 10km to the lodge, a beautiful spot on the Okavango river that made me think this is what the Louisiana Bayou must look like. Inexplicably it took me literally 2 hours to get a BBQ fire going. But I had cold beers in my hand and good tunes on the stereo so nothing in the world mattered at that point. When 'Wastin' Away in Margaritaville' came on, I thought "wow, I can relate - that's how I feel like right now!" What I mean by that is that if you wanted to, you could get lost in a drunken haze for months and months on this continent. Everything is so laid back, the scenery beautiful, the people chilled out, unhurried, friendly and convivial. 5 American students were hanging out at the bar, so i attached myself to these guys and we talked politics all night. They turned out to be really great guys. Regrettably, one was a staunch Bush supported so wow I had a field day toying with this guy. But it was all in a manner of mutual respect and I think I gained a new appreciation - well maybe tolerance is a better word - for Americans. I was flattered that one guy told me I was 'really good at debating' and that I'm 'more mature than my years' and an 'old soul'. Thanks, guys, for breaking down some of the prejudices I didn't even realize I had.

The next morning I braved a vicious hangover, the result of a shot-filled night, instigated by the bartender (I think she actually beat us), and got onto a speedboat at 830. A gorgeous 45 minute trip later, I was transferred to a 'Mokoro', a type of dugout canoe that the locals use to get around the Delta, and is pushed with a pole. While I knew in theory what a delta was - an area where a river branches out into thousands of 'fingers', I was shocked by what it was in practice. The Okavanga Delta is the largest in the world - about 15,000 square km, and at least in the area I was, pretty much all water. But it doesn't look like water. It looks like you're sitting on a gigantic grass plain, which is actually reeds growing in about 1-5 feet of water full of plant life. The experience of quietly rolling across this watery landscape was a little haunting. An environment I've never even imagined in my life. While there are some channels where the reeds and lilys are absent (the main transportation conduits, we got to slide across quite a large area that was thick. Unfortunately this meant being hit in the face with unnemurable spiderwebs and really big spiders until I figured out you can hold a reed in front of your face to avoid most of them.

We stopped for lunch and a quick bush walk at an island. As we approached, I saw there were other tourists hanging around among the tents. As soon as I stepped onto shore, I saw John. what the hell is John doing here? Then JP. Then Frank.

By some cosmic mixup, I had run into the Namibia tour people, AGAIN, this time at a bush camp in the middle of the Okavango Delta. What. the. Hell. I am now certain that there is such a thing as a divine sense of humour. I got some interesting stares when I recounted my travel stories. I'm not sure if they were out of awe, confusion or whether my friends thought I was mentally insane for doing what I did. So we had a few laughs before we again parted ways, I'm sure to meet again in Victoria Falls.

Back at the lodge I had to plan the next stage of my trip. Looking at the map of the continent in my lonely planet, I started to think, "what the hell do I do now?" It finally dawned on me, perhaps for the first time on this trip, that I don't really believe I'm actually here. "What am I doing? Am I crazy? How have I not had a nervous breakdown by now?" And yet I'm still full of energy. This is living. Being outside of my comfort zone just means that I can appreciate life so much more.

Another early morning the next day, I made my way to town and found a bus that was leaving for Gweta about 250 km east of Maun. I had a plan to stay there for the night so I could take a tour of the Makgadikgadi salt pans. I got off the bus in 'Downtown Gweta' (a dusty road, a few goats. Many people with missing teeth.) The first thing I asked I immediately regretted: "Is there an ATM here?" Oh how we laughed... Anyway, I crossed the road to a lodge and had my plans altered: the pans were completely submerged and unnavigable. Another victim of climate change? The 2 people behind the counter looked at me with the same awestruck-puzzled expression when I told them how I was traveling across the country.

It was only 11am at this point so I got a lift back to the main highway and broke out my thumb (actually your index finger in Africa) for the next round of 'hiking'. Had to wait for 2 hours, but eventually another coach bus (standing room only this time) came to take me the 100km to Nata. The entire way we were dodging various livestock from cows to goats to horses, which all seem to be attracted, magnetlike to the middle of the road. At one point this giant coach bus missed a mule by about a foot travelling at 80 kph. It's not that it was a last minute escape - the driver saw it well in advance - but apparently this is really common so why bother slowing down? The mule didn't flinch.

In Nata, I waited again for only about an hour before a guy with a minibus took me to my current location, Kasane, which is at the gate of Chobe National Park. Thankfully I made the journey with 3 other guys that were eager to help a tourist. The people here are the nicest I've met so far. Because these minibuses are always packed, it's never comfortable. And traveling 350km with no stops with someone virtually on top of you means that my ass has never been so sore in my life. I got out of the car at the first lodge that looked half decent. How's that for living day to day?

Through all of this, I have been surprisingly able to keep my cool and my wits about me. I didn't know I had this much strength. At the same time, yesterday was closest I've come to losing it. 12 hours of traveling will do that to you. The feeling was exacerbated by the really disappointing conversation I had with the lady at the lodge. She was entirely unhelpful in setting up a game drive for the next day. And then when I finally agreed to worry about it tomorrow, she had the audacity to suggest that my desire for a minimum standard of customer service was because "I think you are not well". In my earlier years, this might have made my blood boil. But these days I just chalk it up to being in a different world, and realizing that it really doesn't matter. And, she was probably right. I was mentally exhausted yesterday from pushing myself so hard.

So all is indeed well. I've opted for a boat cruise instead, and I'm off to Victoria Falls tomorrow. I will try to get some pictures up when I get there.

Windhoek is a drag, man

TWO days ago I took the 5 hour bus from Swakopmund to Windhoek, Namibia's Capital city. The country's largest city at 400,000, it may be the most boring place on Earth. I may just be saying that because it's Sunday and literally everything but this internet cafe is closed (and i'm the only one in here), but wow it's a sleepy town. It does have it's pluses - the weather is great. It's in the highlands at 1,600 feet, so the air is cool and probably the cleanest I've ever breathed. And it's safe. And i'm out of nice things to say...

The first day here, I arrived around 6 and ran into Batya from the tour at the bus stop, who was on her way back home. We said goodbye again, I got to the hostel, and called my friend Erling whom I met 5 or 6 weeks ago in Pretoria, S. Africa. He picked me up and we got a few bottles of Jack Daniels to celebrate his birthday (good timing for me, huh?) A few of his friends and cousins came over, all good people, and we BBQ'd until the wee hours of the morning. Although Erling is a local, he's not your average Namibian. At 31 he's working on his second PhD in tourism while teaching, and has been to more than 40 countries. Although not part of the elite (his family is middle class), he's clearly part of the country's intelligentsia, and is going to do some amazing things for Namibia. Regardless, it was nice to finally be in a non-white neighbourhood and hang out with a crowd in which I was the only white guy. Getting away from tourist bullshit is part of the reason I didn't continue on with the tour all the way to Victoria Falls, even though I was having a blast.

The next morning I woke up early in Erling's spare bedroom and after being dropped at the hostel to shower and change, I set out to do some sightseeing. I covered all the town's highlights before 3pm - Alte Fest, Windhoek's oldest surviving building, which houses the National Museum, the National Parliament buildings, which has a garden that far surpasses Queen's Park's, the Owela Museum (chock full of stuffed game animals and some other freaky, freaky shit... not to mention the museum was as dark as a funhouse...) and strolled up and down the main streets a bit. With nothing else left to do, I had a traditional Namibian Tex-Mex dinner and watched TV at the hostel all night. Da Vinci code... woo hoo!

I have to say, it's been one of the more bizarre hostel experiences I've had. There are very few young people staying there, and the ones that are look at me like I'm crazy when I talk to them. The diminuitive Japanese David Suzuki look-alike who was fixing his Dr. Seuss-esque bicycle in the hallway for 2 hours yesterday, and who slept in his clothes on top of his bed sheets from 7pm last night to 9am this morning is a pretty fair representation of the average guest. I was also intrigued by the 7 foot tall Sikh gentleman who snored all night... Wait, did I say snore? I'm not sure that's the correct terminology. It was something more akin to 'attempting to cause gravity to implode on itself through use of the nasal passage.' Seriously I've never heard a guy snore like this... I think he gave himself whiplash a few times. Then finally was the unspoken fued between myself and the 4 Spanish people that decided to have a lively debate behind me while I was finishing my movie. I didn't want to deal with them directly so I just kept putting up the TV volume (yes, literally up to full blast) until they got the message and left.

Tonight the people from the tour are passing through Windhoek, minus the few that left when I did, so I'll try to meet them for dinner. Tomorrow morning I'm going to attempt to catch a very early minibus taxi for the ~14 hour trip into Botswana, and hopefully make it all the way to Maun so I'm not stranded somewhere. May be out of contact for a week. Talk to you soon.