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The anticipation that I felt as I stepped off the bus in Capetown had been building up for the entire 22 hour journey. I was not planning for the same adventures of Zambia or Namibia, but rather some quality time with a dear friend that had returned to her home in South Africa. When Claudia hollered my name from her car opposite the bus depot, I skipped across the road-even with my 20 kilo pack on! Isn’t it crazy how some situations can make you feel like a kid again? We took the scenic drive to the house and I couldn’t help beaming from ear to ear. This is partly because I soon had an ice cream in hand as we walked around Camps Bay with the third princess on the trip, little Emily. I am not broody, but I appreciate meeting cute adorable kids who’s nappy I don’t have to change.

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Having crossed the border from Zambia, the road that stretched out ahead was long and straight. It welcomed my feet hanging out of the window in addition to catching up in my diary. (I’m always having to catch up in my diary and in the blog entries if you haven’t noticed!!) This drive along the Caprivi strip couldn’t be this perfect for too long, could it? Nnnnnoooooooo, of course not!!

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As you may recall from my last blog, I was beginning to experience an unusual entry into the land of Zambia. I had collected my Tanzanian exit stamp in the early hours of the morning and joined my mate Anita in order to get our visas from the on board customs officials. Having explained to the officials just what they needed to know, the officers felt the situation might best be dealt with in the privacy of their onboard office. The slight hitch to our situation was that Anita had slept through her Tanzanian exit stamp, and I had mine in the wrong passport. We stepped into the first class ‘office’ and the door was pulled closed for further privacy. As the window blind was shut as well, I decided to pull the corridor door back open. Sitting on top of a bed in a dark cabin with 2 officials wasn’t really how I had envisioned getting my Zambian visa. There really wasn’t a problem with any justification, so we battled with the first presented option of getting off of the train at the next stop and making our way overland back to Tanzania for a stamp. “There MUST be an easier solution officer?”

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As I boarded the bus early in the morning in Nairobi I prepared myself for the scheduled 12 hour journey to Tanzania. Interesting sights along the way, but nothing to keep me awake for more than 20 minutes straight! Luckily I woke up in time for the border, for what should be a simple procedure of getting my visa. Should be! When I handed over the $50 U.S., the customs officer quickly smiled and stated he didn’t have any change. I pointed out that I had seen the Kenyan in front of me receive his change. Amazing how the officer then said he’d ask his colleagues if they might be able to scrape together the $20 owed back to me. 20 minutes later I boarded the bus with my transit visa and $20. No way is the only fight against corruption!! Bloody ironic that we then remained stuck at the border for a further 30 minutes with a flat tire!!

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