A Storming Start

So it would be our luck that the south of England has a massive storm on the day that we fly out! All trains to London were cancelled and Vicky had a frantic drive to down from Newcastle. But eventually, despite the fact that fate was against us we arrived at Heathrow for our flight to Zambia.

After a very bumpy landing (maybe avoid Ethiopian Airways in future) we arrived in Lusaka, the capital city of Zambia, immediately hit by the boiling hot air! We soon had our first experience of haggling with the taxi driver, which was slightly counterproductive after Vicky announced to him “we have no idea how much anything cost here”- its no surprise we were ripped off for this taxi ride!

It was immediately apparent we weren’t in Aberdeen anymore! The landscape is so baron, little huts line the sides of the roads where people sit selling fresh tomatoes and watermelon. Women were walking around with baskets on their heads and little babies strapped to their backs. Although the very stereotypical image portrayed on television, it was almost more of a shock as we kind of expected that to be more in rural areas, not the capital city. But the closer we got to the city the more built up it became, and the more apparent how much of a busy bustling city Lusaka is.

The following morning we were advised to try out the local market in Kamwala. Travelling as three obvious tourists definitely has its disadvantages. Anywhere you go in Lusaka you are hassled by people trying to get you to go in their taxis, or give them money or buy something. The word Muzunga (white person) is shouted at you regularly, not in an aggressive way, but it makes it harder for you to blend in! But anyway after a fight between taxi drivers to get us to use their taxis, we made it to the market…. Which in itself seemed impressive since the car had no wing-mirrors or door handles.

The market was amazing. Little stalls lining an old train track, selling anything from clothes to chitengas (the material they wear) to chickens. We tried out our bartering skills again, although it seemed that they wouldn’t be convinced that we weren’t tourists and didn’t want the “tourist price”.

That evening we headed to a backpackers bar for a few drinks. What we weren’t however expecting was to be serenaded all night by about 20 sixteen-year-old boys from Dublin! But perhaps the highlight was the song a local Zambian sang for us with his guitar- “Mamma Africa” (its on youtube- check it out!) A great start to the holiday J