Trains, Touts and an Invisible Wonder of the World

Back in Bulawayo following our sojourn at Great Zimbabwe, Scott and I may very well have purchased the cheapest first class rail tickets in the world. At $10 US apiece, we reserved a private 'coupee' compartment for the 12-hour overnight journey to Victoria Falls. The bus could have gotten us their in a third of the time, but speed and efficiency be damned, we were going to arrive in style.

After a long and sleepless night next to the sink-toilet.

Arriving at the station after dark on the night of departure, it became very apparent very quickly that we had not in fact scored the deal of the century. Once we found our compartment (we only got it wrong, maybe, four or five times?), we had to dig our headlamps out of our bags to see what it actually looked like. Chartreuse and white speckled paneling covered the walls to almost-match the hospital green mattresses on the beds that folded away from one wall. On the opposite side, in the corner, was some sort of metal receptacle, which we deduced was not a toilet but a sink that happened to smell suspiciously of urine. Not surprisingly, the tap, like the light switches, did not work and probably hadn't since the 1970's – a time when 'Rhodesian Railways' (their insignia is still everywhere) wasn't horribly out-of-date.

Aside from spotting an elephant at Hwange sometime around 6am (our first Big Five! Very exciting!), the train journey was fairly unremarkable. It was cold, there were a few cockroaches, and when I couldn't sleep, I tried to list all fifty states. I couldn't. We arrived in Victoria Falls around 11am, just four hours behind schedule – not bad, if our more recent experiences are anything to go by.

Walking out of the station, we were struck by just how different the town was from anything else we'd experienced in Zimbabwe up to that point. There were sprinklers watering manicured lawns, Land Rovers cruising up and down the main drag, and a large, unsightly travel/shopping/restaurant complex mimicking the style of Great Zimbabwe. What wonders tourism can do for a place.

Ambling around with our backpacks and guidebook, it didn't take long for the touts to spot us and come running over, waving billion dollar bills and salad spoons at us. After Coffee Bay and Hogsback, I had thought that we were reasonably well-versed in hassling, haggling and the art of saying no, but until we met the relentless 'artists' of Victoria Falls (everyone we met claimed to be a carver or a weaver or a painter), we really had no idea just how persistent, constant and intense the harassment could be. Once safely inside the gates of our hostel, we were reluctant to leave – they were quite literally waiting on the other side for us to come out.

But after half a day sparring with pool noodles and downing soft drinks (in the bizarre and unfortunate absence of fruit juice, we've been getting our liquid calories almost exclusively from Coke and Fanta) it was time to get out and see the falls that give the town its name. We headed out early and managed to avoid too much hassle, but at the gates to the park were met with a competitive bunch of raincoat-renters, all vying for our $3/coat. Trying to be fair, we split our business between two different guys, only to be told that it all goes in one pot. I guess that's just how they do things in Victoria Falls – relentlessly, competitively, desperately.

Livin' it up with Livin'stone.

Mostly, this is what we saw.

For a brief moment, the mist cleared and we were able to snap this shot. Ooh! Aah!

Once suited up in ultra-chic head-to-toe yellow plastic, the deluge began. It wasn't so much that the heavens opened up as that the water crashing down over the falls was sent splashing skyward and back down on our heads. Apparently, viewing the falls at the tail-end of the rainy season does have its drawbacks – there is such a thing as too much water and the spray made it nearly impossible to get a clear view of the falls. But the $20 park fee wasn't a total waste – we got a shower with unparalleled water pressure, and were treated to a highly entertaining display of monkey acrobatics.

The next day, we crossed the Zambezi, leaving Zimbabwe behind for good. I wish that I could urge people to put aside their reservations about this country and discover it for themselves, but having seen what tourism has done for the one corner of the country whose international reputation has not diminished under Mugabe, I hesitate. Zimbabwe needs your tourist dollars desperately (just ask one of the dozens of so-called artists) but in our experience, the best part about Zimbabwe (Vic Falls excepted) is the virtual non-existence of tourists. In most of the country, people are friendly, sincere, and eager to help out, not because they want to make a buck or sell you their wares, but because that's just how you treat guests. So go to Zimbabwe, explore its ancient ruins, discover its stuck-in-the-50's cities, meet its charming people – just keep it on the down-low, it would be a shame to see the country become one big adventure mall.

Next stop, Zambia!