I won't bore you with another description of a border-crossing-bru-ha-ha, I'll just mention it briefly to emphasize that the effort to get to the Okavango Delta in Botswana was worth it. After two days of travelling from Zambia via ferry, minivan, hitch hiking, and bus, with hours of waiting along the way, we arrived in the town of Maun. The town is super modern, but we were here seeking the opposite of modern comforts. We wanted to ride in a Mokoro, an old school carved wooden canoe-esque boat, on a camping trip to explore the Okavango Delta. Unlike most deltas where the river ends by flowing into the ocean, the Okavango Delta is where a river ends right in the middle of land-locked Botswana.

We booked the trip through our cozy laid-back riverside hostel and hopped on a speed boat at the hostel's dock for an hour ride to a village where our "poler" (in Botswana, that has nothing to do with dancing, but refers to the guide that propels the boat using a pole) was waiting for us. Julius, or "Jules" as Pickett called him after explaining that it was after a character in Pulp Fiction, loaded us in the mokoro. Us means, me, Pickett, a day pack, Murashige-style food supply, water, camping gear, and Jules. Jules paddled us about 20 meters and then took us to another bank, where he explained he was going back to the village by foot to fetch "bigger mokoro". We reloaded in another mokoro, went another 20 meters, and Jules paddled into the bank again. This time he came back with a fiberglass mokoro. So much for the authentic mokoro experience.

Despite the boat switch, the ride was still peaceful and unusual. The delta looks almost like a flooded marsh, with tall grass poking through the shallow water surrounding a few lagoons. The boat made a soothing swishing sound as it was pushed through the grass blades to glide across the glassy surface. It was so still and quiet, the three of us barely spoke during the 90 minute journey to camp.

Jules pulled over to an island and announced that we would camp there. Pickett and I exchanged uneasy glances as we walked around piles of elephant poo and Jules starting hacking away at the bush to clear a spot for the tent. Pickett asked, "Jules, you think it's cool to camp here, since maybe elephants come up here to eat?". "No problem!", said Jules, "Elephants smell people and they stay away." Alrighty then. Jules hooked us up with a camp fire and dug "the loo" several feet away from camp and expertly hung the toilet paper roll from a tree. He disappeared to another campsite to talk to one of his buddies, and suddenly Pickett spotted elephants crossing the river onto the island. We were fascinated but cautious. They kept their distance at first, lazily munching away at the palm bushes, but those guys don't mess around with their eating.....they were through the first bunch of palms within a few minutes and were slowly making their way to our campsite. 

Pickett and I had no qualms about surrendering our spot. We backed up to the water and I started calling for Jules. He rushed back to camp and started stomping and clamping and threw a rock at the elepahnts and told them to scat. Although they outnumbered and outweighed ol' Jules, they obeyed and left the island.

Just before sunrise, Jules took us out in the imposter mokoro to paddle to the lagoon to look at the hippos. Pretty amazing to see them at almost eye level across the water! But of course we stayed a safe distance away from those brutes - they're known for taking a chomp or stomp out of antagonizers.

Jules helped us boil water over the campfire and make our spaghetti dinner. The campfire was roaring and warm and we just hung out for awhile. I went to bed at about 9pm and Jules announced that a few of his buddies would stay at our campsite and would keep the fire going all night, "to make sure the animals remember we are here." I slept like a baby til about midnight, when I was awakened by the distant grunts of the hippos. I had a hard time falling back asleep; when I finally did, I was awake again within an hour when I heard the grunts of hippos....a bit closer this time. I told myself it was nothing to worry about and was reassured by the sounds of Jules & company voices. I didn't know until morning that Jules had gotten up to scare away a hippo that was at the shore, a little too close for comfort to the campsite.

The next morning we were back in the mokoro to ride to another stretch of land to go on a nature walk. These local guides are just amazing - they really know the habits of the animals! Jules could spot an elephant from hundreds of feet away, where we could admire its enormity and silhouette along the horizon. We were able to get quite close to a herd of wildebeasts and zebras grazing. They didn't mind us much, they just took a look at all the tourists that eventually gathered and slowly backed into the distance.

It was a rustic camping experience for me, and I was satisfied with the one-night rather than the two or more night option, but it was so remote and beautiful that it is one of the highlights of the entire trip. Plus it provided Pickett with the opportunity to nickname a local, who was happy to hear it was a nickname after SAMUEL L. Jackson, not MICHAEL Jackson.

Pickett: you may be asking your self "Why would you allow you and your girlfriend to be poled from behind by a large blackman named Jules?" Well, that is just the way they do it in Buttswana...I mean Botswana.

While travelling, we have come across tons of "Lists". There's the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the Seven Wonders of the Modern World, the Seven Wonders of the Natural World, and the newly released Updated Seven Wonders of the World as voted by internet users world wide. We have come to conclusion that all these lists really are is a new way to promote places...an over-hyped tourist marketing tool. 

That being said, Victoria Falls - advertised as One of the Seven Natural Wonders - does actually live up to it's billing. The falls is on the Zambezi river, a river that also seperates Zambia from Zimbabwe. And though most of the falls lie on the Zambia side, the better views are on the Zimbabwe side. Because of the high cost of seeing the falls from the Zimbabwe side ($30 visa to get into Zim and $20 to get into the falls), only I went over. Though you are looking at the same water, you can walk the length of the falls on the Zimbabwe side...and only then do you get an inclination of how big this sucker really is.

The numbers of the falls are staggering: the falls are over 1 mile long, dropping over 120 feet and at full flow over 1,000,000 liters of water per second.  The Zambezi river also happens to be one of the best white-water rafting rivers in the world. So while the falls are more impressive at full flow, the river is better to raft at low flow - when more rocks are exposed.

We were able to arrive at the falls at an ideal time. There was still enough water to make the falls impressive, but the water level was decreasing, so that when we got there, they JUST opened up 3 more rapids.

At prime (low flow) season, they put in right at the base of the falls at a rapid called the Boiling pot. However, the water level was too high when we were there, so we put in 7 rapids down river. Rapid #9 is called Commercial Suicide and it is unraftable by commercial rafting companies...so we had to walk around that one. Rafting was grand, and our boat was quite the international mix: Kye from Wales, D and Eva from Ireland, Tombo (guide) from Zambia, and 2 Dutch. 

An added bonus/difficulty to rafting in Africa is the wildlife present in the river. We thought the guides were just kidding when they said "Don't fall out or you will be Croc Food". But then we saw not one, not two but FOUR crocs sunning themselves on the river! An added incentive to not fall out of the boat.

To celebrate rafting the mighty Zambezi and living to tell the tale, we took a booze cruise that started above the falls and went up river for the sunset. Though we didn't think it would be, it turned out to be quite the safari cruise as we saw more crocs, elephants and hippos right along the river bank (the elephants were even crossing the river).

We actually ended up staying an extra 2 nights in Livingstone so we could see the lunar rainbow on the falls. On full moons, Victoria Falls is one of the few places in the world that you can see a lunar rainbow. And while it was something special, we don't have any digital photos to show you...so it looks like you will have to go see for yourself.

We never meant to become illegal immigrants. We were going to play it straight and get our  visa on the border as we crossed into Zambia on the 50 hour train ride. But due to the idle hours spent on a train that was not moving, no one could ever tell us when we were actually expected to be at the border. The answer was always, "ooh, that is hard question! Maybe tonight; maybe tomorrow." We ultimately were awakened at 1am on the second night of the train ride by an immigration officer entering our cabin. I have a groggy memory of Pickett handing over our passports and the guy saying, as he whisked out the door, "I stamp your passport for one day visa for free. When you get off train in Zambia, you pay for real visa there."

Of course, the one day visa would have been fine if we had arrived at our stop anytime close to the originally scheduled time. But we got in at 5:30pm instead of 9:30am, which meant the immigration office was closed. We didn't have a choice but to board the mini-bus to Lusaka (staying in the dismal and tiny city the train had ended in wasn't really an option). No worries, we thought, we'll just get our visa in Lusaka first thing in the morning.

We marched....well trugged, since I was carrying my backpack....to the immigration office early the next morning with another Japanese backpacker. After waiting an hour for the office to open (I think the workers were at breakfast??), the office charged the Japanese guy $25 for his visa and then asked us for $200.. Yowzers! Our guidebook published in '07 said the fee was $25, and other travellers had told us $25. The immigration officer shrugged and said the fee for Americans had just gone up to $100 each.

Pickett and I were sure that we were getting schemed by corrupted immigration workers, so we decided we'd just get the visa in Livingstone, since we were boarding a bus there within an hour. Pickett called the American Embassy to ask about the visa fee just before our bus departed and learned, to our disgust, that the fee is indeed $100. "But it is good for multiple entries for three years." the embassy official explained. Great, that will come in handy when we take long weekends to Zambia over the next few years.

When we checked into our hostel in Livingstone, the good humored Aussie owner said to us, with a little smirk, "The immigration office here is closed already. But you'd better get over there first thing in the morning, because right now you are illegal immigrants." 

We obeyed and went directly to the immigration office the next morning. It was a worn down office crowded with desks, and about 5 government officials standing around chatting and doing nothing. They cheerfully greeted us and flipped through our passports in a leisurly manner, and I thought to myself, "Sweet. They'll stamp the visa, happily take our $200, and we'll make it back to the hostel in time to catch the free morning ride to Vic Falls!".  Um, no. The officer was about to stamp the visa and then noticed that our one-day visa had expired two days ago. She said, "There is problem here. You have been in Zambia illegally for two days." 

Pickett and I gave our explanation about the late train, etc. Then it was silent. The official called over her fellow employee, and then another, and they all stood around the desk staring at the expired visa stamps in our passports.

Then they started getting crafty. The officals would speak in their African language when the didn't want us to undertand what they were saying, and then switch to speaking to each other in English when they wanted us to overhear. One woman said to her coworker, "Well, it's just that they have been here ILLEGALLY. I don't want to bring it up, but there is the fee associated with that."  

"I know, we don't like to charge the fee. But LEGALLY, they owe the fee.", said the other.

Then more awkward silence.

Finally, one of them turned to us and said, "What I was telling the other worker is that, naturally, there is a fee you must pay because you are illegal. It is 1,080,000 Kwacha each." That's $250 USD each.

Pickett and I sat staring at them in shock. I sputtered, "Oh, that is soooooo much money! We are so sorry that we didn't have the visa, but we explained what happened and we are asking your mercy if you can please give us the visa now." I started pushing the $200 for mine and PIckett's visa across the desk. "Here, we have the money for the visa."

"Hmmmm", said the worker. "It's just that there is a problem. You will have to buy the visa, but what are you going to do about the fee?  We want that you have nice vacation here in Zambia, but you are ILLEGAL and there is a fee for that. There is also a 2,000,000 Kwacha fee for..."  I didn't even understand what the hell the additional 2,000,000 Kwacha fee was for.

I started tearing up a bit. I explained that if we paid those fees, we would have to go home. That led to the next trap, which they loved, "Oh....you do not even have enough money for your holiday here? How do you think you are going to pay to have holiday in Zambia?" Nooooo, I explained, we have money for the holiday, but if you TAKE IT FOR THE FEES, we will have no money left and we will have to go home.

More awkward silence. Finally the sidekick officer says to us, "How can....we....help...you....?", all mysterious and drawn out. "I want to help you, I'm just wondering how I can help you. I'm thinking there is a way, ahem, an 'illegal' way to make you 'legal'. A small 'illegal' thing and we can make things 'legal'. Now I ask you again, how can I help you?"

I almost started laughing because I couldn't believe what I was sure she was doing - asking us for a bribe! Pickett didn't get it. He looked at her and said, "Well, you could help us by giving us the visa. We'd really appreciate that."

"Well," said the woman, "I want to give you the visa. I'm just wondering, how can I make that possible? How can I help you?"

I spoke up. "We can give you....twenty dollars." I could feel Pickett's eyes darting sideways to glare at me as he started understanding, and his eyes seemed to demand silently, "TWENTY BUCKS?? THESE PEOPLE COULD KICK US OUT OF THE COUNTRY AND YOU OFFER TWENTY BUCKS??". I kept staring straight ahead and ignored him.

More awkward silence. My offer was neither denied or accepted. We just sat there waiting for them to say something, anything. Finally one worker turned to the other and said (in English, so we could listen),  "Well.....they could pay, for example....and I'm just giving an example....perhaps ONE of the 1,080,000 kwacha fees...and maybe...I'm only suggesting it...maybe then we could help them.  It's just an idea I'm telling you. I don't know what they think of that."

The woman turned to us and said, "Oh, the other worker here, she just thought of an idea that maybe you could pay one of the fees, and perhaps then we could help you. It was just her suggestion. What do you think of that?"

More silence. Finally I said, "That is still a lot of money. We will still have to go home. You see, we thought the visa was $25 each, so we are already paying $150 more than we thought we would have to pay and it is hurting our budget. If we have to pay even $250 more beyond that, we will have to go home."

Sigh from the officers, and then one said, "Well, what is it you could afford to pay?". I answered meekly, "Twenty dollars."  I don't know what made me say that again. You'd think I'd be willing to buy our legality with double that, or more, but I figured, hell....they're asking us for a BRIBE....we'll just play stupid since we are stupid and not accustomed to having to bribe government officials.

It seemed like minutes passed before the officer shrugged and agreed. She made some joke about how she was glad she was able to help us, because, "Of course, you know, if we had wanted to, we could have sent you to jail. I don't think westerners like Zambian prison.", she said laughing. I could feel steam rising from the neck of my shirt because I'd been so nervous! We put the $20 on the desk and it just sat there like the dirty money it was, as if the officers were waiting until we turned away before snatching it off the desk top and stuffing it in a pocket. Five minutes later we were legal, with a back dated stamp in our passport (so that when we leave, it looks as if there was no lapse of valid stamps) and another stamp with the "good for 3 years" description. 

It was laughable, the professional way the immigration office carried out an unprofessional transaction - the atmosphere they created even conveyed that they expected us to thank them on our way out. We did. They waved 'bye to us and the ringleader said to us, "I hope you have a nice visit in Zambia! Enjoy your holiday!" with utmost sincerity.