A day needed to be devoted to seeing what Livingstone has to offer. This would be it. A few of my co-travellers decided to take up the helicopter flight option. Others joined me on the free resort bus into town - it otherwise goes in empty to pick up employees, so it's a nice gesture to offer the seats on a first-come-first-served basis - for a stroll around. And for my hair to get a trim. You will have noticed from the photo, however, that the guy got carried away. The first stroke reduced the left-hand side to a No. 2, so the rest had to follow. Only a fiver, though, and it will probably be better that short when the expected 40+ degree temps in Namibia come along.
Livingstone is a working town, cheap, with no obvious aspirations to be a tourist Mecca. Backpackers come here to use it as a base for their adrenalin activities before pushing on elsewhere. The market stalls sell what regular market stalls sell. Nothing fancy. Mundane. The main brainwork of the day would be calculating how few Kwachas to get to see me through the remaining twenty hours or so until Zimbabwe.
Helen from Oz joined us today. Thus we are now eight. Tomorrow we will be nine, when Susanne, Urs' other half, completes the roster. We are to remain nine all the way to Cape Town.
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