Zimbabwe

Monday 8th February 2016 – We woke excited to see the falls for a second time; after all the hope of seeing the waterfall in its full splendour was the reason we had taken a two month detour into Southern Africa. We would not be disappointed. We walked from our hostel, through town to the park entrance, pausing to change a few dollars worth of Zambian notes we had left over from Livingstone with the money changers near the border. The first thing that struck us was how impressive the view of the falls is from the Zimbabwean side. The second thing was how much more water there was now compared to December. Devils Pool was barely recognisable and swimming there now would surely be suicidal. The falls to the right of it which had been almost entirely dry two months ago were a series of awesome cascades. We made our way from Devils Cataract to Danger Point at the far end of the gorge. Rainbows shone bright in the spray which in places was so heavy it was like rain and scarlet dragonflies flitted in eternal nirvana. By the time we reached Danger Point we were soaking wet and while no-one was around we danced by the edge of the falls. We laid belly down at the cliff edge and poked our heads over feeling scared and exhilarated at the same time. After several hours we wandered home, feeling calm as the thunder of the falls faded behind us.

Tuesday 9th February 2016 – We decided to skip the rival bus experience and catch a minibus back to Bulawayo instead. After a long, cramped but uneventful journey we reached Bulawayo where, not wishing to patronise the Royal Hotel a second time we took a taxi instead to Burkes Paradise, a hostel about 10km outside of town. There we were made to feel immediately at home by Shaun, a sandy haired Zimbabwean. That evening we met a Spanish girl who had just recovered from tick bite fever and was on her way up to Zambia.

Wednesday 10th February 2016 – In the morning we settled up with Shaun who kindly agreed to print out our hotel reservations for Mozambique which I had booked (and immediately cancelled) online the previous evening. We took a combi back into Bulawayo and then boarded a bus to Masvingo. Shortly after we left two blind men got on the bus, walked up and down the bus a few times singing and begging for change, then sat down for the journey. Later on a blind woman got on and did the same. Finally a blind trio got on, one of them a black albino woman. We aren’t sure what the cause or causes of blindness were but from then until we reached the Mozambique border we saw quite a lot of blind people. We reached Masvingo, a run down little town shortly before dark and had little choice than to take the first accommodation we could find, in this case a shabby little hostel in the town centre called Backpackers Rest. After dropping off our bags we went to find food. The Victoria Hotel was the quintessence of faded grandeur but they did have a restaurant and so, surreally seated in the corner of a huge, empty cavern of a room we ordered the only thing on the menu, vegetables and rice and mused over the reign of Robert Mugabe.