Day 2

After the layover in Dubai, which lasted about three hours in the early morning of 10th Feb, I boarded an identical 777 for the second leg of my trip to Bangkok. Despite getting the exit row seat I had been promised, it was much more tiring than the first leg, partly because my body was telling me to sleep, but couldn’t actually pull it off, and partly because I was seated in between two particularly uncommunicative travellers. Finally I reached Bangkok at about midday, local time. I remembered something I had been told about being sure to use a metered taxi, and set off towards the rank. I didn’t quite make it though, because a rather forthright woman stepped in front of me and said something like “You want taxi – where go?”. I would have stepped around her except that she was wearing a Thai airways uniform, which caught my attention almost as much as the offical looking information kiosk she appeared to be running. I showed her the business card for my hotel.

Day 1

Dad drove me to Heathrow at around 11am for my flight, which was with Emirates via Dubai. At check in I asked for an exit row seat, as I usually do, and I got one for the second leg. First though, I had to get to Dubai. This involved a 6-hour flight, during which I kept myself entertained by watching movies and playing video games on the inflight entertainment system. There were even a couple of cameras on the plane which you could look at on the TV screen – one pointing out the front of the plane and one pointing down towards the ground.

Three days prior to departure

Back in November I was reading The Times travel section and wondering where to go on holiday. I had no travel companions for the trip, and I was working full time, so it would have to be a tour package, I thought. The word ‘package’ conjured up nightmarish visions of screaming kids, name badges and umbrella wielding guides, but I began to search the net for tour operators, and it wasn’t long before I came across Gecko Travel. In fact it was pretty much a one horse race as far as websites were concerned. Gecko’s had itineraries for all the tours, everything you could ever want to know about the tour arrangements, endorsements from lots of happy customers (including one from the Thai tourist board) and up to date pricing info. The photos were stunning and navigating was a doddle. I was hooked.

Day 54

Back in Harare, I spend a week gradually shedding skin from my slowly-healing sunburn, finish deploying the new system, and then return to London.

summary:Back at work
location:Harare
ihave:Bribed a Zimbabwean customs officer
trip:zimbabwe01
day:54

Day 53

I check out of the Kingdom at around 8:45am, and leave my bag with the porter. At nine I get picked up by my last tour bus – this one is for the famous helicopter “flight of angels”, an aerial tour of the Victoria Falls. A few pickups and a short drive later we arrive at the heliport. A thatched building stands on the side of a small grassy area surrounded by a low log fence, just large enough for two small helipads. The only visible helicopter is in a service area on the other side of the field, with various vital-looking pieces of machinery exposed.

Day 52

I am awakened early by a burning sensation in my legs. I whip off the sheets to find I am throughly sunburnt from mid-thigh to toe on both legs. A few minutes later I am still lying in the same position trying to decide whether to risk moving. Touching the reddened area I confirm quickly that yes, it does hurt. A lot. I spend the rest of the day taking it easy and swimming in the pool, to the amazement of onlookers. “Isn’t it cold?” asks a middle-aged woman, looking up from her book. But I’m not feeling the cold – the cold water provides some much needed relief for my sunburn.

Day 51

Today I am scheduled to go white water rafting at 0745. After meeting at the bar in the Kingdom, the group is driven to the gorge to pick up equipment and start our descent. There are two options for making the trip – you can either paddle yourself and follow instructions from a guide, or have the guide row so all you have to do is hang on tight. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I go for the paddle boat option. The rest of the crew (of seven) consists of a group of Dutch men, who didn’t speak English very well, and two women travel agents (Lindel and Sue) from a group of ten on an educational trip from South Africa. We navigated the first ten or so rapids without incident, and not a single person overboard, quite an achievement compared to the other paddle boats. Rapid 15, or the ‘washing machine’ is where our luck changes. An enormous wave forms ahead of the raft. I can see the wall of water getting higher and higher as our boat races towards it, and I know the angle is too sharp. We were going over, and there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. Our raft launches itself into the wave but with no luck – we are pointing almost vertically by the time the wave breaks, sending us all into the Zambezi and burying the raft under a tonne of water.

Day 50

A bus from the Elephant Company arrives to pick me up at around 6:45am, and has me relieved to see some native english speakers already on board. The Kingdom Hotel pickup adds myself and a group of about fourteen Dutch to the mix. Rhonda, the New Jersey minister is one of the Americans already on board, so we talk during the 25-minute journey to the elephant depot. After half an hour or so learning the various safety proceedures, such as “don’t get between a elephant and a hard place”, the elephants themselves arrive for the tour. We board them via a raised platform and sit on a fairly basic saddle. Once the elephant starts moving I begin unconsiously rocking back and forth, and my thighs quickly start complaining bitterly.

Day 49

Around midday, I leave Kingdom to find Wilderness Safaris, where Elina works. No soorner have I stepped outside the hotel grounds before I am beset upon from all directions. “Hello how are you my friend” is a common opening, which is quickly followed by attempts to sell me various souvenirs, or exchange my money at generous rates.

Day 48

Simon returns from a dance looking drunk, but is probably just tired. I’m going to Victoria Falls on a week’s break, and I’m all packed and raring to go, especially after spending so long at work. As Simon is too ‘tired’ to drive me to the airport, Chipo obliges, and I arrive about an hour before takeoff. Now this really has to be the smallest commercial air terminal in the world. My bag was weighed on a manual scale, you could walk from the entrance to the departure gate in about 10 seconds flat, and when it came to boarding, a woman wandered into the room, pointed at a distant plane and said “your aircraft is over there – have a good flight.”