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Europe Ireland

New Year’s Eve in Dublin

I awoke in Dublin in my hostel bunk. I had had a perfectly lovely evening the night before but this was my one and only full day in the city. It was December 31st, and I would be leaving early the next morning. There was no time to waste.

I walked into the city and retraced some of my steps from the night before, to see the areas in daylight. The weather was not cooperating. It was windy and gray and cold. The grey and cold I was expecting and actually fine with, but the wind made things unpleasant. Fortunately, by the afternoon the sun would come out again for a bit.

I felt immediately at home in Dublin; notwithstanding the excessive alcohol consumption I had observed the night prior, it has a seriousness about it. A studious, literary kind of aura that I’m very comfortable with. It’s entirely possible that I am projecting onto the city that which I already expected from a lifetime of reading novels and poetry by Irish authors, but nevertheless, that’s how it felt and I liked it.

Walking around Dublin there were plaques and statues to great Irish writers and thinkers. I sought out Oscar Wilde’s house and the statue of him. I won’t post a photo of the statue as it is ubiquitous online and I’m not a big fan, but it was very cool to see his house.

I had planned, of course, to go to Trinity College to see the library, however, it was closed for cleaning or renovation, so I had to take it off the list. Right there is a good reason to return to Dublin. But I was able to wander the city. I visited parks and shops and numerous cafes whenever I needed a break from my walking in the cold. Everyone I chatted with was friendly.

I visited Saint Patrick’s cathedral, which was a ticketed church, but well worth it as it is beautiful inside and there is a lot to look at. I enjoyed the decoration and design of the inside of the church, as well as the mummified remains of a cat and rat that were pulled out of the pipe organ in the 1950s.

I wandered aimlessly through the city at some point taking in statues and green spaces and bits of street art.

I visited the pub the Brazen Head, which bills itself as Dublin’s oldest pub, having been open since 1198. It wasn’t the best pub that I’d been to, but since I was right there, how could I skip such superlative drinking experience?

I walked to the Irish Museum of Modern Art, which was excellent. Precisely the sort of modern and occasionally weird art that I enjoy.

I visited two cigar stores downtown. There was a James J Fox, which is related to the James J Fox tobacconist shops in London, which I frequent when I am there. As well as ‘The Decadent Cigar Emporium’. In both cases, I bought a couple of cigars and chatted with the proprietors about the smoking laws in Dublin.

I had read prior to coming to Dublin that smoking had been banned indoors everywhere, but sometimes when you make inquiries you can find that there are certain secret places to smoke. Sadly, both shops confirmed for me that smoking is indeed banned inside and that includes a prohibition on any cigar lounges. The people at James J Fox were able to give me intel on one pub, however, where smoking would be allowed because it is technically outdoors. The James Toner pub. I made a mental note of that for later.

I wandered the alleys and poked around in bookshops and vintage clothing stores, just enjoying whatever i found in my path.

I was having a perfectly lovely day – especially after the sun came out; however, things took a turn when the sun went down. It was December the 31st. What that meant was that once the evening came, everyone’s evening plans went into full New Year’s Eve mode. I didn’t have any New Year’s Eve plans being there alone in the city. I should say, I don’t like New Year’s regardless of where I am. I think it’s a stupid holiday. I don’t like excessive drinking, I don’t like staying up late, and I don’t like big raucous parties, so it’s just not for me. So spending New Years in a foreign city means that I’m a bit of an outsider. I would have been perfectly content to go for a nice dinner and have a drink somewhere but most of the restaurants had put in place expensive tickets for parties or multi course dinners with a prefix menu. And I wasn’t about to go and spend £100 to have a dinner or attend a party that I didn’t want. I also would have been happy to sit outside somewhere and just watch the world go by but, being that it was December in Ireland, it was cold and had started to rain again. I tried to elbow my way into a few pubs just to have a drink, but those places had already become so packed there was a waiting list outside.

Remembering the suggestion of the tobacconists at James J Fox, I walked to the James Toner pub. And this was my salvation. The James Toner pub is a proper pub, but they have a back entrance and there’s a sort of massive mostly enclosed patio area where smoking is allowed. You basically feel like you are indoors except that there is a small part of the ceiling that is replaced with the sky. It still had leather booths and tables and TVs and a full bar. The heaters were blaring and it was comfortable. I sat there and had three cigars and multiple Jameson and ginger ale drinks (a drink that I had only discovered once I went to Dublin and found to be quite tasty). People weren’t particularly social outside of their individual groups. It was New Year’s after all, and people were out with their friends to have a good time; they weren’t really interested in chatting with the weird foreign girl dressed in black smoking cigars in the corner. But that’s okay. I found a spot where I was comfortable, and I was happy to sit there quietly and just watch the crowd.

Once it got to be about 9:00pm, it was time to move on. The place was getting too busy and too loud, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. At this point I just reconciled myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to go to a big party so I may as well just go back to my dorm. I felt a sense of shame going back to the hostel actually. Here I was in a foreign country; was I really not going to stay up until midnight to ring in the new year? No, no I was not. I had a shower and got into my bunk and as soon as I did that I knew that I had made the right decision. I was cozy and comfortable I watched a movie and fell asleep. I got to enjoy a bit of New Year’s revelry but was able to avoid the last few hours of drunken idiots and staying up late just for the sake of staying up.

The next morning, I woke up early. I think everyone in the hostel was asleep. Even the lobby was littered with the bodies of passed-out revellers. I arranged a taxi and headed back to the airport and back to Vancouver. It was a little less than 48 hours that I was in Dublin and, clearly, I need to return to see more of Ireland, but I was completely satisfied with the short visit that I had. Although I’m not sure that I would be eager to go and visit somewhere for New Year’s Eve again, it was a great way to start off 2024.

Europe Ireland

Arrival in Dublin

The way statutory holidays fell in December of 2023, it made it irresistibly easy to take a long weekend away. I had just spent four days in Iceland over Christmas. I then returned to work for four days before again turning to the airport to fly to Dublin for New Year’s Eve. At the time, this seemed like a brilliant idea although I must admit that flying back across to Europe only four days after having just returned was a bit gruelling. But none of that mattered of course once i was in Ireland for the first time. It seemed brilliant.

I left Vancouver flew to London where I had a short layover and then flew to Dublin. This was my first time in Ireland and I wouldn’t have very much time there at all so I had to make the most of it. I arrived at about 4:00 PM on December the 30th and went straight to my hostel. I was staying at the Jacobs Inn hostel in Dublin, which was a great location, a short walk from the centre of town and to almost everything that I wanted to visit.

I don’t know what accommodation prices are like at times other than New Year’s, but at New Year’s that was very expensive. I booked myself a part in it room of 10 pods for women and I think that little bunk bed cost me about $150.00 a night CDN. Fortunately, I was only going to be there for two nights. It was a great hostel, extremely well designed. My little bunk was so cozy and comfortable it had all the necessary amenities. I scarcely saw the other girls that I was sharing a room with.

By the time I got myself organized and went out, it was dark. I walked across the bridge towards the Temple Bar area. I know, it’s super touristy, but when you never been there before it seems like a logical place to start in the evening. On the way I was walking down a street that seemed entirely unremarkable, when I past my first Irish pub.

It was called the John Mulligan pub and its sign proclaimed that it had been in business since 1782. Good enough for me, I went inside. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. It was simple, cozy, and busy, but not too loud; everyone in there looked like a local and was having a good time chatting with each other. There were still Christmas decorations up. I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey. This is the part of the blog where I should tell you that I don’t drink beer so I did not consume any Guinness. This was strictly a whiskey trip. I do like whiskey, but I don’t tend to drink the Irish variety. For my two days in Dublin I would use my naivete as an ‘in’ to talking with locals and bartenders about their whiskeys and asking them what they recommended. That worked well in this instance, as soon I was deep in conversation with two local fellows. If that had been the only thing I did in Dublin I think I would have left perfectly satisfied it was a great experience.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I continued over to the Temple Bar area, where things were noticeably more crowded and louder. The streets were charming. Clearly, there touristy, but they were extremely appealing. Everything seemed so Irish. There were fiddle players and whiskeys and Guinnesses, old buildings, men in tweed, young drunken boys smoking cigarettes…it was exactly what you would expect and everything you would want. I went into the actual Temple Bar itself, and got myself a different type of whiskey and elbowed my way into the centre courtyard, which only had a partial roof so, technically, smoking was allowed. I smoke some cigarillos and sat down and took in the scene. A band was playing Irish music in the occasional Leonard Cohen song. The place was standing room only and everyone was having seemingly the time of their lives.

I took this photo (below), which I think is my favourite photo that I took from the entire time I was in Dublin. There’s just so much energy and although you can’t see many faces, those faces that are exposed are all exuberant. It was another perfect experience.

From there I walked around, I had a mediocre meal of something that I can no longer recall that involved potatoes, and I hit up another bar where I had a whiskey and a cigar on the patio. A few people chatted with me, most of them drunk, some of them flirtatious. It was all very enjoyable. It was a little on the cold side but it hardly mattered as I had several whiskeys now coursing through my body.

It was a wonderful introduction to Dublin. The next day, December the 31st, was my only full day in Dublin and I had a lot to accomplish. I was in bed by about 11:00 that first night and excited for the next day.

(Whenever anyone tells me that my occasional short trips overseas aren’t worth the time for money that it takes to do them, I point to experiences like this. While Dublin certainly deserves more of your time than an evening, in that one evening I had a wonderful, memorable experience and I was thankful that I had another day to follow: New Year’s Eve.)

*many of the buildings had lighting projections*

Europe Iceland

Christmas Day in Reykjavik

Christmas Eve was behind me and i was confronted with my final day in Iceland: Christmas Day. I have not travelled much at Christmas. It is not a cheap as I would like, and some destinations are overcrowded. That said, it is easy to take a long weekend off from work at the holidays, so it is a convenient time for a holiday. Having done it a couple of times now, I can say this: Christmas is a good time to travel, but it is best to avoid Christmas Day.

That said, Iceland does have some fascinating Christmas traditions. There are a group of mischievous fellows called the “Yule Lads” (really) and their raison d’être is performing naughty pranks and delivering gifts to good children by placing them in their shoes. Their mother is a troll names Grýla who collects bad children in a sack and boils them alive, presumably for consumption. And there is the Yule Cat who hunts down people who don’t get an item of new clothing for Christmas and eats them. The best tradition, however, is the ‘book flood’, according to which books are given as gifts on Christmas Eve and then the rest of the evening is spent reading. This sounds wonderful – and after all of the naughty children have been kidnapped and eaten there is certain to be lots of peace and quiet for reading. Of course, I was solo and had no one to exchange Yuletide books with, so I needed to fill Christmas Day a different way.

I was flying home from Reykjavik on Christmas Day, but not until the evening, so I had a day to fill. That was a bit of a struggle. It was dark and cold and almost everything was closed. I ended up spending about $75 CDN on a buffet meal at my hostel. The hostel did have a nice cozy feeling, but no one was particularly chatty, so I ate alone. I am normally happy to eat alone, but on this particular day, where everything seemed a bit depressing, I could have done with some company.

I went out and walked around to sights that I had not yet laid eyes on; things I could appreciate from the outside and walked aimlessly for a while.

I stopped and I had a cigar sitting on a bench outside a closed early that had left its lights on and its pink plastic Christmas tree up and had a cigar. It was so cold, but it felt a bit special.

I then killed some time at the Lebowski Bar, simply because it was open. There was only one other table occupied inside. It did have a cozy feeling and was playing Christmas music. I had a mulled wine and mulled over whether Christmas Day was a good day to be visiting anything.

Fortunately, by early evening it was time to return to the airport.

I loved my time in Reykjavik, but I kind of wished I had left late on Christmas Eve or early on Christmas Day, as the last day just felt like an expensive way of killing time. Lesson learned for the future: use Christmas Day as a day for long haul travel; not for sightseeing.

Despite this, Reykjavik had exceeded my expectations. I can’t stop thinking about its beauty and magic. I even find myself thinking about how relatively close it is to Vancouver and how it is kind of a perfect long weekend getaway. Maybe I will return to see it again – maybe in the summer – but in the meantime there are more new places to discover. Like Dublin, which I would fly to four days later.

Europe Iceland

Christmas Eve in Iceland

The day after my magnificent Golden Circle tour, I thought that maybe I would be disappointed with Reykjavik, but I had another excellent day. On my first day I had already seen most of the main sights that were on my list, the second day I saw spectacular snowy vistas, so the third day was an unstructured wander in Reykjavik. I strolled the city having leisurely coffees and stopping to explore new streets. It was still dark most of the day, but I was used to this already and was in the rhythm of Iceland’s short winter days.

Still in the dark, I walked to the National Museum of Iceland. Truthfully, if you aren’t a museum person or if you are lacking time, you could skip this museum, but I really enjoyed it. It had a nice collection of historical artifacts and more modern items from Iceland, including a few creepy items that I enjoyed.

Odds and Ends from the Museum

When I emerged from the museum, the sun was rising and I walked around a little, mostly frozen lake where a congress of waterfowl was floating. The sun, golden and reflecting on the ice, the little row of colorful houses, like exquisitely crafted confections, and the birds. It was magical.

I am aware that I am overusing the word “magical” in my Iceland posts, but it is just a magical place and no other word seems quite right.

It was now Christmas Eve, and most businesses and attractions were closing at noon or 2pm or thereabouts and would have found myself without much to do, had I not booked myself on to a Folklore Walking Tour. Just as it sounds, it is a walking tour that tells the tales of Iceland’s rich history of folklore and ‘hidden creatures’. Iceland has a rich tradition of elves, fairies, ogres, and monsters of various kinds. Most countries do, I suppose, but in Iceland, they traditions seem to have carried on into the present. While it seems that most people do not still believe in such creatures or magic, some still do, and many of the non-believers seem to have adopted a ‘better safe than sorry’ attitude. As we walked Reykjavik on the tour we were told stores of ancient creatures and magic, but also about how certain rocks or trees, believed to house elves or similar folk, have been left intact when road or other construction would otherwise have eradicated them. The result is a perfectly straight road taking a bizarre turn around a collection of rocks so as not to disturb them or those that may live beneath. And there were tales of construction projects being mysteriously interfered with until the enchanted place was spared.

Of course I don’t live my life believing in such things, but I want so much for some fantastical creature to be real that I was as delighted by the stories as the children who were on the tour. It was a lot of fun.

But then the tour was over. It was again dark, and most things were closed. I decided to call it an early night and went back to my hostel to sleep.

The next day was Christmas and the day I would fly home.

Assorted Reykjavik photos from my day

Europe Iceland

Reykjavik in December

I knew I would go to Iceland eventually, but it was not a place I was excited to go. People seemed so enthusiastic about it, and I never understood why. It is a mostly outdoorsy place, and I am a mostly indoorsy person. It does look beautiful, but I thought, “What, I’m going to go to Iceland to look at a green, treeless expanse? And then what?” But the eventuality came about in December as I decided to go away for four days over Christmas and Iceland was the best option.

Practicalities

A few practicalities: Reykjavik is a surprisingly short flight from Vancouver; about 7 hours direct. Vancouver is so far away from most other countries than anything less than 9 hours seems short. There were no visa requirements places on my Canadian passport. Iceland is an easy place to visit. Credit cards are accepted widely so you don’t really need cash (which is a bit of a shame as their currency – Icelandic króna – is beautiful. While the national language is Icelandic, most people (at least in Reykjavik) speak English as well. The buses are easy to navigate and there is a good tourist infrastructure.

Iceland may be easy to visit, but it is not cheap. While there are some cheaper options farther away from the centre of Reykjavik, I wanted to be central and paid about $150 CDN/night for a prison style bunkbed at the Kex Hostel. (The Kex Hostel is nice and cozy, but it is expensive, and the rooms are basic. I.e. no curtains on the bunks and no clever amenities). Food was also super expensive. Like a drip coffee at a café was about $7 CDN and a terrible pre-made sandwich from a supermarket was about $20 CDN. It’s doable, but I was definitely glad that I brought protein bars with me.

I can’t say that I went to Iceland for Christmas and not mention the weather. Of course it was cold, but not prohibitively cold in Reykjavik when I was there. No colder than -10C. I didn’t need special clothes; I just wore my usual Vancouver winter clothes but with an extra layer. I did arrive without a toque however – like a fool, I brought only a jaunty beret and that was a mistake. I bought a woolly toque on my first day to keep my head from freezing. Oh, and I brought a bunch of those chemical hand warmer things, which was a good thing.

Exploring Reykjavik

I arrived in Reykjavik at 6am after a red-eye flight from Vancouver. On the way, my seat mate nudged me awake to see the northern lights. Subtly green, but they were there. It would, unfortunately, be the only time I saw them on my trip to Iceland, as it was cloudy the whole time.

I went straight to my hostel and dropped off my bag and went off to explore. It was dark. It was dark most of the time I was there because, well, it was at the time of the year when the days are shortest. The sun rose at about 11:20am and set again at 3:30pm; barely peeking above the horizon. This meant that most of my sightseeing was in the dark, which is definitely a different experience. I live in Vancouver, and I wake up at 4am, so going out before the sun is up is a familiar experience, but not for sightseeing, and I had never experienced such few hours of daylight each day. It was weird. It was unsettling. I loved it. It made everything feel special. It was, in fact, one of many of the things that I loved about Iceland.

Good morning, Reykjavik!

I walked the dark streets. There were patches of crunchy snow, which made everything feel brighter. It was December 22^nd, so the buildings were decorated with tasteful strings of Christmas lights. The first thing I noticed (apart from the darkness and cold) was that the buildings are a distinctive style: two-story, colourful buildings with pointy roofs and corrugated metal exterior walls painted bright colours. A pleasing aesthetic like that in Greenland and Newfoundland.

I stopped at the locally popular Braud & Co., which was just opened, and bought a fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll; part sweet treat and part handwarmer.

*my favourite of Reykjavik’s street art murals*

more street art

I took in several intriguing street murals and found my way to the intersection of Reykjavik’s two most famous sights: The Hallgrimskirkja and Rainbow Street. The Hallgrimskirkja is a Lutheran church built in 1937 in a striking style design to resemble Iceland’s mountains and glaciers. If you’ve ever googled Reykjavik, you’ve seen it. It is impressive. At night it is imposing and illuminated. By day light it is stark and pristine. There’s nothing exciting about the interior, but the view from the lookout, which I returned to do at daylight, is spectacular.

Rainbow Street (really Skólavörðustígur) is a main commercial and Instagram-famous street that starts, or ends, at the square in front of the Hallgrimskirkja. I walked down the street and popped into the Café Babalú for a coffee and to warm up.

*me on Rainbow Street after the sun was up*

While I loved the magic of Iceland in the winter, the downside is that I needed to patronize frequently cafes for warmth and rest. In the summer, you might take a break from your walking by sitting outdoors on a bench for free, but in the winter, you want to be inside and inside costs money. Those expensive café visits really add up. Nevertheless, Café Babalú was charming and oh so cozy; filled with cute and nostalgic bric-a-brac.

I walked and wandered until the contemporary art museum opened: the Reykjavík Art Museum Hafnarhús. Admission was about $25CDN and worth every penny. It was an excellent and not overly large modern art museum in a curious building that looks like an origami-folded newspaper.

When I exited the museum, the sun had risen and Reykjavik was revealed. I had to retrace my steps to see all the same buildings and murals by day. The real highlight was that I could see the ocean. Reykjavik is right on the coast and many of the streets appear to disappear right into icy blue water. In the distance…an island? A chunk of ice? A glacier? It looked different to anything I had seen.

I walked to the Reykjavík Art Museum Kjarvalsstaðir, which was included with my ticket to the first one. Another good museum, and the walk was stunning.

I continued my walk to the Asmundur Sveinsson Sculpture Museum, also included with my ticket I bought to the first museum. Here’s the thing, I actually did not like any of the sculptures inside this museum (with apologies to Ásmundur Sveinsson), but one of the ones outside were interesting, set against the snow, but the real draw was the building itself, which is just very cool. It was designed by Sveinsson and was his home and studio prior.

By the time I walked back to central back to central Reykjavik, it was dark again and I was feeling pleased. Reykjavik is small and I had seen much of what I wanted to see, but fortunately I had more time to explore, because there was more terrific stuff ahead.

Smoking Cigars in Reykjavik

On that first night, I found a place to smoke a cigar before I bunked down in my hostel.

Smoking in Reykjavik is banned everywhere indoors. I chatted with the proprietor of a cigar store there and they confirmed this. Not even a secret cigar lounge, but smoking is allowed on patios – Hooray! But it was winter and very cold, and most patios were not open. It seems that not a lot of people smoke, so they didn’t have the whole heated patio, cozy blanket set up. Fortunately, I found a café / bookstore / live music venue on Laugavegur street: Hús máls og menningar. It is a cool place inside, but outside, they have a small wooden patio, slightly sheltered and with a heater. I hunkered down there and had a Quai D’Orsay with a negroni. When my cigar smoking hand started to freeze, I switched hands. Totally worth it.

me with a cigar, braving the cold

My first day in Reykjavik was a success, I thought as I snuggled under heavy blankets in my hostel bunkbed. But the best was yet to come. The next day I would leave the comforts of Reykjavik for a day trip into the countryside.

United Kingdom Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

London Layover: Notting Hill

At the end of my trip to Zimbabwe and Zambia, I flew home to Vancouver from Lusaka via London. I had about an 8-hour layover and, as is my preference, there was no way I was going to spend that time at the airport.

I’ve written a lot of posts about my layovers in London. I’ve even gone into the city with as little as a 5-hour layover and it’s always been worth my time. I’ll say what I’ve said before, which is to make the most of a layover in London a few things are really helpful: if you’re a carry-on luggage person like I am, quickly stash your bag at the left luggage office at the airport. I always take the Heathrow Express into London – with a short layover, there’s no time to be messing around with any other form of transportation. I pre-buy my tickets for the Heathrow Express so I don’t have to stop and buy them on arrival; I just have the ticket on my phone and scan it and get right onto the train.

I usually have some kind of an idea about what I want to do. Sometimes I just go and smoke cigars on Saint James Street, other times I’ll pick a specific museum, or an area that I want wander around in. This time, I decided to visit Notting Hill. Upon arrival at Paddington Station, I took the tube to Notting Hill Gate. (I could have walked, but I didn’t have an abundance of time.)

I don’t think I had been to Notting Hill since I lived in London many years ago (and well before that movie was out). It was a delightful place to spend some time walking around. I was there too early to enjoy the market, but I walked the streets and enjoyed the colourful buildings and stopped and had several coffees, which were necessary after my red eye flight from Lusaka. London is truly one of my favourite places in the world and I will never miss an opportunity to visit it. It was a perfect end to my trip.

Africa Zambia Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

Last Stop: Lusaka

I had arrived in Lusaka in the afternoon of Saturday, arriving by car from Livingstone. I set out immediately to explore what I could of the city. I had read a lot of things about Lusaka that suggested that it might not be particularly safe after dark, so I wanted to get in the sightseeing that I could while I could on that first day. I set off from my hostel – Lusaka Backpackers – to explore.

Lusaka doesn’t seem to have an overwhelming abundance of intriguing touristic sites, but I always say that there’s something worth exploring in every city.

Unfortunately I had missed the closure of the museum, which I had really wanted to see, and it would be closed the next day as well, but I walked to it so that I could see the freedom statue out in front.

National Museum of Zambia and the Freedom Statue, marking Zambia’s independence.

I walked around a busy street catching some glimpses of mosques and a few interesting buildings. But I didn’t have a lot of time before the sun went down. I walked through sort of a residential neighbourhood filled with flowering bushes and trees and made my way to a cute cafe set in a garden (The Garden Café & Buddha Bar), which I recommend as a pleasant oasis.

I had a bite to eat and a cigar and ended up chatting with the owner for over an hour. He is from Zambia originally but had moved away to England and moved back. It was fascinating to hear his theories about why, he felt, Zambia is so culturally diverse and safe. His theory was that tribes from lots of different warring countries around Zambia had all fled to Zambia to escape conflicts and as a result, the country was full of people who were diverse and peace loving. I don’t know if that is true, but I certainly cannot contradict it; nor would I wish to.

I walked back to my hostel just as it was getting dark. I don’t know if it was safe or not to be out after dark, but I was also fairly tired so I spent an evening hanging out at my hostel before going to bed.

The next morning, I got up early, determined to make the most of what I could that day. I had to leave for the airport around 4:00 that afternoon. Again I went out exploring. A lot of things were closed in Lusaka on a Sunday, but it was pleasant to walk the quiet and colourful streets.

I visited several cafes, but I had breakfast at this wonderful restaurant called Meraki Café, which is not a far walk from my hostel. (I think there is more than one location; the one I went to, which is so pretty, is on Chaholi Roasd). It looked like it was lovely inside, but I never made it past the wonderful outdoor garden seating. I had an excellent breakfast and a morning cigar. It was the sort of place that if you weren’t looking for it you wouldn’t stumble across it because it was tucked away on a residential street. I got the sense in my short time in Lusaka that a lot of places were like that, just hidden away, which makes it difficult to see a lot on a short trip, but I did what I could.

Breakfast at Meraki Café

I took the bus to the African Sunday crafts market, which was worth the journey. Lots of masks and paintings and other sorts of crafts being sold. It was a little outside of the centre, so I took a bus. I walked around and looked at the offerings, which were lovely, but how many things can one buy? After a bit of haggling, I walked away with a mask for my office.

At this point it was time for me to head back to the hostel and get organized to go to the airport. My trip to Zambia and Zimbabwe was at an end — or just about, as I had a long layover in London ahead of me.

Africa Zambia Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

The Road to Lusaka

I had done what I set out to do in Livingstone, including visiting the Devil’s Pool, and my trip was drawing to a close. I decided to fly home from Lusaka, rather than return to Harare. Why not see a new city, even if only for a day or so? I needed to figure out how to travel from Livingstone to Lusaka.

Lusaka is the capital of Zambia and is not too far away from Livingstone. You can fly, but most of the flights were routed through Johannesburg, making it a needlessly long journey. There is also the bus, which is cheap and seems to run on schedule from a big, new bus station in Livingstone and takes about seven hours. Or you can drive. I was set to take the bus, but I met this nice taxi driver in Livingstone – let’s call him Max (not his real name) and I liked him so much that I asked if he would drive me. He wanted to visit some of his kids in Lusaka, so we worked out a deal and he drove me the whole way. It was faster than the bus (giving me more time in Lusaka) and we got to make stops.

Changing Money & Getting a Snack (not very good, as it turned out)

The drive was pleasant. Max had a comfortable car, and I enjoyed chatting with him about his life and family. We drove though small towns or cities along the way (Zimba, Koloma, Choma, Batoka, Pembo, Chisekesi, Menze, and more), stopping for snacks and coffee. About halfway through the journey I finally asked Max about the music he was playing, as we had been listening to the same CD on repeat. (I didn’t know what it was, but I make a small video and ‘Shazaamed’ it later.) It was an Irish boy band called ‘Westlife’ that I had never heard of. It just seemed an odd choice for a Zambian man in his mid 40s. Monga said he didn’t know who the band was. He had just bought the car used and the CD was in the player and, as the car menus were all in Japanese, he hadn’t yet figured out how to change the music. So, Westlife was the soundtrack to the journey.

En route it was wonderful to see some of the landscapes as well as catching fleeting glimpses of daily life.

We arrived in Lusaka about midday. The traffic in the city was awful. We crawled along once we reached the city limits, but I go my first glimpses of Lusaka. A busy, not terribly attractive place.

I checked into my hostel, Lusaka Backpackers, which was a nice little place. I had a private cabin-type of room, which, unfortunately, I shared with many small cockroaches, so I slept with the lights on both nights, but it was well located and I could walk to the museum and other central locations, so it was ok.

Lusaka Backpackers Hostel

More about Lusaka in the next post as I explore Zambia’s capital.

Africa Zambia Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

Zambian Zebras in Livingstone

Coming from the border with Zimbabwe, my taxi driver dropped me off at my accommodations: The Ravine Lodge. I was still on a high from having seen zebras by the roadside and I was excited to explore a new country: Zambia.

The Ravine Lodge was comfortable. I had a nice private room in a bungalow around a grassy courtyard. I would have no hesitation recommending the hotel as it was a good price and just a short walk into the city centre. That said, that short walk into the city centre felt like a long walk during the day because it was so hot and felt long at night because it was so dark and I was concerned about what creatures might be roaming around.

The Ravine Lodge

But I didn’t come to sit in my hotel

walking in Livingstone

I walked into the city centre. I liked Livingstone; it is small and there is not a lot to do there apart from animal and river activities. The central crafts market (the Mukuni Park Curio Market) is open most days. It is small enough so as not to be overwhelming and has an excellent assortment of local handicrafts. I eventually bought a mask and chatted with some of the vendors. There is a small museum in town, which is worth visiting if you have a bit of extra time but is okay to skip if you don’t. I made my way through the city stopping at various cafes along the way enjoy some air conditioning and a bit of coffee. It was an easy place to visit. People spoke English and are used to tourists; and it felt safe.

cellphone booths

downtown Livingstone

crafts market

My time in Livingston really had two purposes: number one was to visit the Devil’s Pool at the Victoria Falls; and number two, was to do a microlight flight over the falls. Once I had done those two things in the two days that I had in Livingstone, I was going to head to Lusaka. Things didn’t go quite according to plan. The Devil’s Pool was amazing and I have written about that separately, but the microlight flight never happened. I had pre-booked a flight with this company and prepaid them what I think was about $200 US, but on the day that I was to do it they said the weather wasn’t cooperative and they wanted to reschedule for the next day. I said that was fine. However, the next day came and they said the weather still wasn’t good. And since I was leaving the next day, it meant I never got the chance to do the microlight over the falls. What was more frustrating was that they refused to refund my money on to my credit card so that was a bit of a loss (yes I’m aware I should have done a charge back on the credit card but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it). My fault. So I spent my two days in Livingstone just kind of wandering around and taking it easy.

An excellent café, the museum, and a church

While I didn’t have the microlight flight over the falls, I had something that might have been even better. On that second day when I realized the microlight flight wasn’t going to happen, I thought about what I could do. There is no end to the amount of activities that you can do at Victoria Falls, but I had already done the Devil’s Pool and I had already visited the falls from the Zimbabwean side and I just didn’t feel that excited about going kayaking or bungee jumping or any of those things. So I decided to go to a very fancy hotel for drinks and a cigar. I think this idea came from someone who commented on a post I made on Instagram about the fact that my if I was looking for something to do I should have tea ta the Royal Livingstone Hotel. I wish I could remember who that was because I would thank them.

I took a taxi to the Royal Livingston hotel, which is south of the Livingstone town centre. It is a big luxury hotel set along the banks of the Zambezi river with a view of the spray coming up from the falls. It is absolutely stunning. A graceful mansion set on manicured grounds surrounded by forest and facing the river. I could never afford to stay here, but I could afford to go there for a drink. They have restaurants and bars including one appropriately called the Traveller’s Bar, and they have a sundowner bar that is al fresco and set right along the banks of the river. I thought “what a great place to go finish out the day and have a cigar.” The real draw however was that, allegedly, because there are no fences around the hotel, animals will just wander into the grounds to nibble on the grass by the river. I didn’t know if this was true but I thought it was worth visiting to find out.

As my taxi pulled up to the hotel, a giraffe ambled by in front of the car. This is only the second time I had seen a giraffe in the wild and the first time I wasn’t expecting it. Similar to when I saw the two zebras by the roadside the previous day, I started to exclaim and giggle with wonderment. I managed to get a short video, of which this is a still:

I walked through the lobby of the Royal Livingstone Hotel (trying to look like I belonged there) and back outside to the river. As I stepped out onto the grass I saw zebras. Maybe a dozen zebras, including a baby or two, just on the grass in the shade. I became overwhelmed with emotion; it was maybe one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and I hadn’t been expecting it to look anything like this. I felt emotion well up in my throat and my eyes were tearing up. It was a wonderful feeling.

As I walked to the bar, which was really just a wooden platform with seating under the trees, the bartender greeted me and asked me how I was doing, and I burst into tears. Not sad tears, just overwhelmed with emotion tears. Sometimes when things are wonderful I will tear up, but it isn’t very often that I actually start to cry. I was trying to explain to the bartender why I was crying: simply that it was so beautiful and the zebras were so amazing and unexpected, but as I was saying this I was still crying, a scenario I found ridiculous, which made me laugh. So then I was there crying and laughing and trying to explain myself to this bartender who only really wanted to know what I wanted to drink. A bit embarrassing, but mostly just a great moment.

Fortunately, there was another tourist there, a doctor from Vancouver Island of all places, and he offered to take my pictures in front of the zebras. I am so happy that he did because I think this has become maybe my favourite picture of myself in my travels. Cigar in hand, all dressed in black, and somewhere amazing. It really is a good encapsulation of me.

I sat at the bar and had a cocktail and watch the sunset into the river, chatting with the Canadians seated nearby. In the distance I could see and hear hippos in the river. A zebra or two walked in front of us just as the sun was setting. It was really amazing. I could have stayed there forever, but eventually it got dark and there was nothing to see.

At this point I decided to settle in at the Traveler’s Bar, or more particularly, on the patio of the Traveler’s Bar, for a bit of dinner and another cigar.

I had a bite to eat and was just about to order a cocktail when a man and a woman walked past me heading into the restaurant. The man was holding a box that contained a bottle of Scotch and an opaque Ziploc bag that I knew probably had cigars inside. I was smoking a cigar and as he walked past, he stopped and looked at me and I at him and I said “Are those cigars you have in that bag?” And he responded “I’m just wondering if we should come and join you.” I suggested that they should absolutely join me, and they did. The man and his girlfriend were locals and I found out during the conversation that the man was a member of the Zambian government. (I don’t know if I’m supposed to say who he was so I won’t.) Three of his other friends joined us and we sat and had cigars and drinks until late into the evening. It was such a great experience. His friends were all well-to-do Zambians; One a designer of banks, another owned a winery and game reserve, another one was some kind of a technology business guy. The girlfriend was, like me, a lawyer.

At one point, my governmental friend pulled out a Zimbabwean cigar – a Mosi-Oa-Tunya. This was a cigar that I had been looking for when I was in Zimbabwe but was unable to find it. I had sent an e-mail to the company, but they had not responded. When I commented on it, my friend gave me the cigar and called up the owner of the Zimbabwean cigar company and put me on the phone with him to arrange getting me some of those cigars. I always say that cigars are such a great social lubricant. If you’re a cigar smoker and you meet another cigar smoker not only do you have cigars to talk about, but it is understood that there is a fraternity of sorts and you are both members and that it is not only acceptable but encouraged to share your time and conversation with each other. Having that cigar on that patio allowed me to have one of the more memorable evenings on my trip, connecting with interesting local people over cigars

And as we sat there, the animal parade didn’t stop. Zebras continued to walk past us in the darkness.

It was an incredible evening in a perfect way to wrap up my time in Livingstone. The next day I would head for the capital of Zambia: Lusaka.

Africa Zambia Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

A Dip in the Devil’s Pool

I had arrived in Zambia from Zimbabwe ready for more adventure. My trip to Zimbabwe and Zambia was epic because it contained so many big and exciting experiences in addition to the already great experiences of seeing the cities: Victoria Falls, Chobe National Park, and finally: the Devil’s Pool. There was no way I was going to go to Livingstone, Zambia and not sit atop one of the world’s great waterfalls. Did it sound scary? Yes, but that is part of the fun.

What is the Devil’s Pool? It is a natural rock formation at the top of Victoria Falls on the Zambian side that, during the drier season, you can sit in and look over and down the top of the falls as water rushes by. Try it in the wet season and it will be your final water-slide.

There were a lot of companies offering the experience, but I ended up booking with Livingstone Island.

I had to be at the launch site by 6:50am, which meant taking a taxi from my hotel. There were about 10 of us who quickly got to know each other, partly because we were all a bit trepidatious as we signed our liability waivers in case of death. While I think it is natural to be nervous, the whole experience is quite safe and very professional. We were given a briefing before taking a boat across one part of the river, passing hippos on the way.

We then stopped the boat and got out onto a rocky bit on the middle of the river and ‘swam’ across the next part of the river. I say ‘swam’, because it isn’t really swimming. There is a rope going across the river to help guide you, as the current is rushing perpendicular to you. If you are tall, as I am, your feet can touch the bottom most of the way. So it is sort of half swimming, half walking/pulling yourself across.

The setting is beautiful. If you go in the morning, you are almost guaranteed to see a rainbow created by the spray of the falls.

Then we got out onto another rock and descended into the Devil’s Pool, which really is right at the top and edge of the falls. Everyone goes in and takes turns peering over the edge.

Sitting the pool is lovely and very relaxing, even though there were tiny fish nibbling us and I was convinced that someone would jump over the edge at the shock of it.

Before you get into the Devil’s Pool, you give your phones or cameras to one of the guides and when it is your turn, he will take a series of photos and videos of you peering over the edge of the falls, while another of the guides holds on to your ankles to prevent you from being swept over. If ever a guide deserved a good tip, it’s these guys.

Looking over the edge of the falls is unbelievable. It is loud and dramatic and the drop is so far down. It was exhilarating. I actually did it twice; once at the beginning and once at the end. The second time was better because my photo was not being taken, so I wasn’t thinking about the camera and could just focus on the sheer excitement (or terror) of looking down the falls.

I found the photo part a bit awkward. I wanted a picture, but I wasn’t sure what to do. A lot of people did ‘thumbs up’ or peace signs, but that’s not really me. I wasn’t really comfortable enough for a ‘superman flying’ pose. So I just sat and lay there and tried not to look ridiculous. I think I look silly in most of the photos, but here are two.

And then we headed back where we had a fancy breakfast under a gazebo tent by the river. We all chatted and bonded over the unique experience.

leaving the falls behind

view of a different part of the falls and a plaque for Dr. Livingstone

A few tips:

While not necessary, I was glad I had water shoes with me as the rocks can be slippery and sharp.
Don’t wear a loose t-shirt out of modesty, as the force of the water when you are looking over the falls will push it all up around your neck. Wear a regular bathing suit or other tight-fitting bathing costume.
Sunscreen. Always.
I didn’t have one at the time, but I wished I had had a go pro or similar waterproof device, as it would have been nice to take photos and videos while sitting in the Devil’s Pool as everyone else took their turns.

It is super touristy, but it is also amazing and the guides were so good, there is nothing to worry about. I was returned to my hotel early in the morning to enjoy the rest of the day in Livingstone, which included a terrific zebra and cigar encounter.

Wandering North

Tag: travel blog

New Year’s Eve in Dublin

Arrival in Dublin

Christmas Day in Reykjavik

Christmas Eve in Iceland

Reykjavik in December

Practicalities

Exploring Reykjavik

Smoking Cigars in Reykjavik

London Layover: Notting Hill

Last Stop: Lusaka

The Road to Lusaka

Zambian Zebras in Livingstone

A Dip in the Devil’s Pool