FYI I am not allowed to go to Zimbabwe, Peace Corps rules, BUT there is an exception made only for Victoria Falls… although I still feel a little like a bandit with the big, colorful, Republic of Zimbabwe sticker visa they slapped right into my Peace Corps passport. (FYI, not cheap. $30 for US citizens and even worse, $75 USD for Canadians.)
The plan for day three – one of the worlds natural wonders, Victoria Falls, which we hoped would include some nice pretty waterfalls, Zimbabwe, Zambia, and bungee jumping (although I was undecided on that last one). Our hopes had been slightly dashed by some Australian safari tour planner we encountered on our day 2 boat cruise.
“You cant possibly go to Zim and Zam on the same day.”
“You cant possibly just walk up and ask to bungee jump, you have to book through a fancy resort.”
“You cant possibly do anything you want to do, you have to do it my way.”
But only slightly discouraged, we headed out with our trusty Southern Africa Lonely Planet books in hand, ready to take on the adventure. Luckily the Aussie turned out to be a big fat downer that was wrong about everything.
In theory, the logistics of seeing both sides in one day are quite simple. You enter from Botswana to Zimbabwe, go to the town Victoria Falls, see the falls from that side ($20 entry into the park. Worth it. Amazing), walk the some 50 feet to the Zambian border and perhaps buy some nice Zimbabwean craft souvenirs on the way, cross a bridge and then enter the park in Zambia ($10, beautiful, but I think Zim was better.)
In reality, our trip was a bit more complicated… as seems to be the story of my life in Africa.
Trouble began with crossing into Zimbabwe. The rental company does not allow you to take cars into Zim.
“There are no rules there” – Budget Rental Car Company. Fair enough, all political/economic/Mugabe situation type things considered.
Well, to have a car come to the campground, take us to Vic Falls, and bring us back would have been $100 a person. Considering that is half my monthly salary, nope, not happening. So the woman at the lodge told us we might just try parking at the border, and hitching or catching a cab to Vic Falls. We were sort of sketched out by the whole leaving the car at the Zimbabwean border thing, but what other choice did we really have.
Parked the car, crossed the border, and what do you know, there was a nice man with a “cab” waiting to drive us to the falls for $25 USD – note, I am quoting everything in dollars because Zimbabwe no longer uses their own currency. Rather, they use USD or Rand. Not sure how they actually get the currency but I am sure there is some sort of black market involved.
So after the man got his friend to push our “cab” in order to give it a little jumpstart, we headed on our way.
So far so good, no problems, wow, this was the perfect idea. Cheap and easy, just how we like it.
We entered the Vic Falls park in Zim, and ogled the fantastic falls for a few hours – stopping to watch wild monkeys, make peanut butter sandwiches, and watch other brave travelers plummet down the second highest bungee jump in the world. All in all a nice little tourist day.
Note to travelers: bring a raincoat or be prepared to rent a colorful plastic poncho thing. The splash from the falls will drench ya for sure… but it also makes beautiful rainbows.
It all truly became an adventure when we didn’t have enough money to bungee jump. There are ATMs in Zimbabwe, but they don’t dispense money since Zim currency is now obsolete. With the Botswana border awfully far behind us, we decided to jump over to Zambia to use the ATM ($20 day visa, but worth it for another view of the falls, another country under the belt, and another stamp in the passport.)
Well, the ATM close to the border (that was rumored to give out USD, not sure how that works or if it is actually legal) of course was broken, and the bank closed. So Julia and I, not sure what to do, wandered out to the road and luckily there was a nice man in a truck just waiting to drive into the nearest town. So we happily hopped aboard and hitched a ride to Livingstone… unfortunately leaving our poor friend Lauren, who declined the border crossing, stranded for hours in Zimbabwe with no idea why we weren’t back in a flash. But she lived, made friends, and actually ended up getting a free bottle of coke. Sweet deal.
After the slightly harrowing lift, which involved potholes, roadwork, and elephant sightings, we finally reached an ATM and happily went at withdrawing. Now this was Zambian money mind you, so we then promptly wandered over to the nearest bureau de change. Well, of course the man only had 100 USD in cash, and we needed about double that.
“Do you have rand?”
“no”
“pula?”
“no”
“euro? Pound?
“no, no. I only have this hundred dollars.”
Sometimes I just want to shake some business sense into developing countries. But anyway, we took the hundred bucks, grabbed an ice cream cone, and headed out of town with 100 USD and about 650,000 Kwatcha.
Time to hitchhike to Zimbabwe. But thankfully, again we had luck, and happily hopped aboard a nice man’s truck after less then ten minutes of looking needy on the side of the road. More potholes, roadwork, slight fear, and elephant sightings.
After all this trouble, we weren’t about to cross back to Zim without seeing the falls from the Zambian side. Again, amazing. The view, like Lonely Planet tells you, is closer from this side, and you really feel like you are right on top of the falls. Of course, my camera battery died at the very moment we entered Zambia, so I don’t have any documentation.
And then, after our two hour Zambian adventure, I hand fed wild baboons at the Zimbabwe border. Luckily, Julia’s camera was still going at this point (it died about 20 minutes later), so pictures exist… I just don’t have them.
“Well, after all this trouble, I am not about to let my 500,000 kwatcha go to waste, strap me in because I’m jumping off this bridge by god,” I thought to myself.
And that I did.
5-4-3-2-1 Bungee!
And then, ready or not, the nice Zambian bungee man literally pushes you off the bridge. All and all, I am glad I did it, but I am also pretty sure I will never bungee jump again. The initial fall was awesome and the view amazing. But after the fantastic first ‘I am plummeting to my death’ adrenaline rush, you have to bounce back up, twirl about some, and bob around for the most part upside down until the nice man comes down on a little rope to help you back up. Uncomfortable and slightly unsettling to say the least.
The jump behind us, we stopped for souvenirs, then began to make our way back to Botswana in hopes the car would still be there waiting at the border.
The ride back to the border proved more complicated than our entry. After all the hitchhiking/ATM/bungee hoopla, it was getting late, and soon would be dusk. That is just the last thing we need, three nice little white girls in Zimbabwe after dark – also way against PC rules.
We found a man who said he would take us to the border, but it would cost us $50. No way, we paid $25 to come, not planning to pay double now. After about 10 minutes of fighting with the man, finally,
“ok fine, lets go.”
“Sweet, that wasn’t so difficult.”
And then, less than 5k later, he pulled over at the hitching junction, told us to get out, and asked for $5.
Well there was lots of yelling, and insulting, but it basically came down to the man calling us stupid Americans taking advantage of Zimbabwean suffering, and us calling the man a liar and generally a morally bad person. Jerk – although perhaps not worthy of moral castigation, but at this point we were nervous we wouldn’t make it home.
Luckily, also at the hitching junction was a Zimbabwean police officer. He assured us we would make it out alive. Unconvinced, we waited…
After about 20 minutes, a cab came, and said he would take us to the border for $30. We got in, and he promply turned around, and began driving directly away from Botswana.
“Where are we going?”
“To buy fuel.”
“Oh, ok, sure.”
Well, there is no fuel in the pumps in Zimbabwe, so little did we realize, a gas run meant hunting for black market fuel.
We head into this little, cement house filled neighborhood, pull up outside of one well gaited home, and honk.
“We’re out of petrol.”
So we try a few streets down. Success. Thank god. Get us out of this country.
On our way back out of town, we picked up the nice police man, plus a woman and her baby, plus two other men who were waiting at the junction. It was a cozy ride. But we made it.
And there was the trusty little Yaris just waiting to welcome us home to Botswana… all in once piece, except a mysterious missing hubcap.
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