I’m on a media trip to the Royal Livingstone Hotel in Livingstone, Zambia, and so far it’s been fabulous.
The media group is made up of journalists from SA’s major newspapers and two local celebs – tv presenters who are shooting for a new SABC 3 travel programme, Life’s a Journey. We arrived in Livingstone at lunch-time today and travelled by bus from the airport to just outside of town, where we caught a speedboat to the hotel. There’s something to be said for hotel arrivals by boat – I think it’s rather film-star glamorous, especially when half the staff is waiting for you on shore with cold towels and iced drinks. The Royal Livingstone is superb – it’s a colonial-style five-star hotel spread out manicured lawns on the banks of the Zambezi, overlooking the falls.
The RL is one of those hotels where you hardly have to lift a finger to do anything. I’m driven in a golf cart by a driver outfitted in a safari suit (complete with hat) to my room, about 200 metres away from reception. My luggage has been sent to my room from the airport and the TV is on (in case I get into my room and I just can’t get to the remote in time). My personal butler, Jonathan, comes to my room to introduce himself and to tell me that if I need anything (ANYTHING) I just dial 9 and he will appear. There’s a driver in a golf cart waiting outside my room to take me to reception, but I assure him that I am perfectly capable of walking half a minute. I always feel vaguely guilty at these sort of places about being waited on hand and foot. Having said that, I’m not complaining about this place. It really is such a treat to stay here.
The rest of the group has an activity planned for the afternoon, so I decide to get into town and do some exploring. My taxi driver, Chella, was a great guide. He drove me around town, pointing out historical buildings, giving his recommendations and telling me about Zambia (‘the most peaceful country in Africa’). Livingstone is a one-street town – as David, our driver on the bus from the airport says, ‘No visitor to Livingstone can ever get lost, as there’s only one road’. It’s a small, clean little town with some faded old buildings, a museum, a couple of backpackers and a few restaurants.
The curio market was full of tourists and typical African souvenirs, so we drove a bit out of town to see the Maramba market, where locals shop for food and clothes. Chella took me around, pointing out the dried fish that Zambians fry in oil and cook with tomato and onion, fresh breem from the Zambezi, groundnuts, fried sweet fritters, bright green lemons and huge packets of ground chillies. I really love taking photos of food markets, and unlike Mozambique, people at this market loved having their photos taken. I took a photo of a guy and his wife at their fruit and spices stall, which they’ve asked me to e-mail to them.
On the way back to the hotel, a herd of elephants crossing the road caused a bit of a traffic jam. The hotel is in the unfenced Moson tunya game park, so you find a lot of wild animals just wandering around. There are cheeky vervet monkeys everywhere – we’ve been warned to keep our doors locked to prevent them pilfering from our fruit bowls.
I spent the remaining hour of the afternoon on the sundeck watching a beautiful Zambezi sunset over the falls, thinking about how I probably have the best job in the world.
Dinner was a five-course affair served under the monkey tree on the lawn, next to a family of zebras who munched nonchalantly on the hotel’s lush grass. The food was superb, from the amuse bouche of smoked salmon and the wild mushroom risotto with breem, to green tea creme brulee encased in chocolate.
I came back to my room to find a luxury hotel turn down. Rose petals were scattered over my bed, my nightgown and slippers were laid out for me, and candles were lit in my bathroom. It’s blissfully quiet at night here, and I went to sleep to the distant rumble of the falls.
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