Livingstone was only meant to be a quick stop on my journey further north. But, with a convenient night bus connection from Namibia and a couple days to kill, I figured I would spend the days in Zambia's premier tourist destination. My travels have brought me through here before but I never really lingered too long. It is a bustling little town with quite the party scene and enough loud Americans to keep even the most determined baboons and elephants at bay.
The draw of Livingstone is primarily the impressive Victoria Falls and all the activities that go along with it. There is also all sorts of safaris in all shapes and sizes; walking with rhinos, petting lions, feeding the crocodiles, wrapping a snake around your neck, yada yada yada. All for a pretty penny. Lvingstone for me has been for the most part unexciting. I re-familiarized my intestines with greasy street food and enormous dinners at local back-alley restaurants. Of course I visited the falls as well. Those will never cease to amaze.
It is here in Livingstone that I can now report that I have officially been molested and robbed in Africa. Livingstone is considered a safe town but I unfortunately let my guard down, lost my wits, and paid the price.
While visiting the falls I sat down on what seemed to be decent place to sit and enjoy my apple (despite the bench not having a back rest). In addition to having shade there was a band of baboons swinging in the trees, acting like monkeys which I figured would provide good entertainment while I ate my apple. As I took my first bite into the delicious fruit I caught a quick flash out the corner of my eye. I may have screamed like a little girl as a big mama baboon with a youngster on her back charged me full bore. I had no time to weigh my options and as a last resort before being pummeled I thrust my arm out, apple in hand. The baboon quickly grasped the apple with her leathery hand and retreated to the edge of the bench where she enjoyed the apple. I am not going to be all Indiana Jones about it; it freaked me out. After saying some profanities under my breath, I went on my way, keeping my orange out of site. In hindsight, I feel I should have stood my ground but my stubbornness is probably no match to the sharp teeth of a baboon.
Livingstone has also been a place of a strange coincidence and unlikely meeting. The first night at my accommodation, a man (who appeared to be local) started asking questions about me. I told him I was from Montana and he preceded to tell me that he had visited Whitefish, Helena, and Bozeman. I figured he was yanking my chain but when he said he went to school in Minnesota and was from Zimbabwe, I only had to throw out one name that sent him flying out of his seat. Turns out, he was the college roommate of a good friend of mine, and although having never met, we knew about each other. Small world.
Happy to be back in the land of maize porridge, greasy curries, boiled greens, and respectable portions.
Victoria Falls and perhaps 10% of its glory. The falls are massive and this image only captures a slice of the entire spread. They are a site to be seen.
Peering over the abyss.
In the belly of the beast.
The bridge spanning the precipitous gorge and linking Zambia to Zimbabwe. Last time I visited here, it was from the Zim side; despite my reluctance to pay 20 bucks for the park entrance, I am glad I did just to get another perspective on the impressive falls.
The moment preceding my molestation and robbery. I must of been distracted because I found it odd that a baboon would be drinking from a water bottle.
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