Drinking the Night Away

After dark, they came to get us for dinner. We told the porter that an elephant had very recently been near the chalet; he assured us the beast had moved on and out of camp.

Wrong.

As we started on the path to the main lodge, he quickly realized that the elephant(s) was still nearby. It was pitch black dark so we couldn't see him, but he was around. The porter hurried us through the path making hand signals and looking a little nervous. I was so scared that I grabbed Anne's hand and made her hold on unti we were safely at the lodge.

We made a solemn vow to drink ourselves silly. (Which, for the record, I followed through on - Anne wimped out.)

When we got to the lodge, they had a fire going and cocktails were on hand. The lodge managers and other staff chatted with us as the other guests started arriving from their evening game drive. There was a brother and sister act from LA, there with their mother (a judge!). A lovely gay couple from London. And our dinner companions, a British family of four (American mom, Dad, Oxford-student son, and Rachel McAdams lookalike daughter).

We met our ranger (BT) and tracker (KB) briefly before the evening's entertainment started. The ladies of the camp came out and began to sing; their lilting voices blending with natural harmonies. They looked like they were having a ball. I was really enjoying it. The other people in the room were watching them passively as if this is something you see every day. Anne looked horrified. She repeated the phrase that we'd been saying for hours: "Three nights!?!?"

Of course, the singers chose that moment to grab Anne's hand and drag her up for a dance. I was the next victim and before long everyone was up, dancing, laughing, slightly embarrassed, but giving it up as a lost cause to fun. It worked. The ice was broken.

After dinner in the Boma, we were schlepped back to the chalet. On the bed, there was a lovely note from the lodge manager welcoming us to Sandibe, along with a book with stunning photos and information about their other lodges. Nice.

Also nice: hot water bottles for the bed. We were both worried that we wouldn't sleep.

Next thing I knew it was morning.

Laundry

One of the things that Anne and I had been eagerly awaiting was Sandibe's promise of free laundry service. We'd tried to pack light and as a result were pretty much wearing the same stuff over and over. Also, inexplicably, neither of us thought socks would be important. In Africa. In Winter. So. That was a problem.

But never fear, Botswana to the rescue. As promised, there was a laundry bag in the room waiting to be filled with our dainties. I took a minute to read the instructions for the laundry:

-Please leave your completed list together with your laundry on your bed.
-Laundry will be collected at 8am for same day service.
-All laundry, unless specified, is machine washed.
-Should the weather be inclement, all laundry will be tumble dried.
-Water is pumped from a borehole.
-Occasionally hyena and baboons raid the laundry yard.

The lodge accepts no responsibility whatsoever for guest clothing damaged during cleaning

Crap.

Elephant Crossing

Admittedly we were both a little shaken up by the Great Sandwich Caper of 2007 and we just wanted to go back to our chalet and take a load off. As we started down the path towards the chalet, the lodge manager called softly to us to stop and walk back toward him. We soon saw what he saw: 4 fully grown ellies out for their afternoon stroll and mid-day snack.

The manager just made us wait a few minutes until they had veered enough off the path that we could scamper away to our chalet.

We got back to our chalet to relax (read: freak out over our anxiety at almost being trampled by an elephant. We're nothing if not overdramatic) and wait for dinner. Since dinner is served after dark, they'd be sending a porter to collect us.

There we were, minding our own business, when we heard the know familiar cracking and crunching that signified an elephant with a sweet tooth. This time, though, we could feel it, too. The chalet seemed to be vibrating. It was a little too Jurassic Park for my tastes. We turned off the lights. It was dark outside now and I thought we'd be able to see better. I didn't count on the fact that there is no light outside either, not even the moon. The cracking and crunching was getting so loud. I briefly held the flashlight to the window. There was a tusk the size of my arm just a few inches from that nanometer-thick screen separating Us from Them. There was an ellie right outside chowing down on a tree.

Turns out, these ellies have a schedule. They rarely deviate from it. And if that schedule includes high tea in front our our chalet, so be it.

A Monkey Eats Anne’s Lunch. Literally.

We had already been warned several times already on the trip to be wary of the monkeys. Actually, what they normally said was something along the lines of “We’ve a bit of a monkey problem. So, just keep an eye out for them.”

Of course, we barely even saw a monkey up to this point. We’d heard a story of monkeys slipping into the chalet of two women at our first lodge (housekeeping was a little careless about keeping the doors closed as they straightened up the rooms). Several of the creatures got in and tore through the mini bar (read: small tray with some teabags, sugar, and a few cookies) and made off with a packet of Dairy Milk. No harm though, except that one pooped on the bed.

We’d soon find out that Botswana doesn’t do anything half-assed. The lodge manager offered to get us a late lunch before we rested up for dinner. I was wandering around the main lodge snapping pix while Anne was doing deep breathing and contemplating the relative benefits of benzos versus SSRIs in these situations. A few words on the lodge itself- just gorgeous, decorated in a colonial style with big leather sofas, cushy pillows, tons of old books and almanacs to peruse and a huge fireplace that would keep the place cozy at night. This too was wide open to the elements and the animals with nary a screen in sight.

When they brought our food, the monkeys started to take a much keener interest in these weary travelers. And before long, we were completely surrounded. Once again, too dumb to be afraid, I held my camera up to take a snap of a particularly brazen article who had made his way to the table next to ours. It was a rookie mistake, letting that little rat get so close. Before we knew it, the rascal had jumped right over Anne’s shoulder, grabbed half of her sandwich and retreated to a not-so-safe distance about 3 feet away.




Anne was shrieking. I was screeching a blue streak of curses that would make a sailor blush. The monkey was twitchy, but otherwise unconcerned. The staff came running. The lodge manager was wielding a gun. It was all very exciting. Even though the gun was a paint pellet shooter and the manager was a lousy shot, the monkeys hit the bricks and we made the manager stay with us until we were ready to go back to our chalet.

The Sandibe Experience

The drive from Chitabe airstrip to Sandibe took 45 minutes; most of that time was spent driving through water. Botswana is already noticeably different from South Africa. It’s marshy and wet with unexpected sections of dry savannahs. The ride in the open Rover was bumpy, but we’re used to it by now and the weather was gorgeous. We sat in the back and tried to catch the last rays of the day.

We thought we were going straight to the lodge, but the driver had another plan. He pulled up and parked under a tree by the river (Anne immediately worried that we were going to be sold into white slavery or fed to a croc). They assumed we’d want to join the evening game drive, already in progress. Wrong. We were exhausted, hungry, and inappropriately dressed. So we headed back into the bush again, this time toward the lodge.

When we arrived at Sandibe, it was immediately clear that this was going to be a completely different experience than what we had in South Africa. For one thing, the lodge is fully open. There were vervet monkeys everywhere staring at us with their big old googly eyes.

Vervets. The bastards.

The main lodge

The lodge is situated right on the Santantadibe River – the view of the water is interrupted only by great clusters of tall grasses.

Private deck outside our chalet.

The grounds are not at all like the Earth Lodge or Simbambili – those lodges had manicured grounds with well-defined paths and electric lighting. Hah- not so our Sandibe. This was real safari – overgrown paths littered with fallen tree branches and elephant dung. Compared with where we’d been, this was like Girl Scout Camp with cocktails (and thank god for the booze).

Outside ouf our chalet.
The smaller round structure is the shower.

Of course, this is 4-star “camping” complete with butler service, laundry, fresh linens, comfy beds – who can complain?



But here’s the thing: the walls of our chalet? Not walls – screens. As in microthin layers of metal mesh as the only thing between Us and Them. You know who I’m talking about. Suddenly I realized, We’re the ones in the cages while They roam free.

Did I mention the outdoor shower?

And the “no electricity at night” rule?

Well – let me remedy that: the shower is outside. Where the animals and birds and rain are. And the cold, because, you see, its WINTER. The chalet, in spite of its charms was also lacking two other seemingly standard items: a phone and heat. A phone just in case we are set upon by a pride of lions. And heat, because, you see, it’s WINTER.

When we inquired about the phone, the porter produced an airhorn and told us that if we needed someone to come we should just use that.

While Anne fretted over the distinct possibility that she might suffer a myocardial infarction in the middle of the night and require emergency airlifting, I eyed the decanter of complimentary port and wondered if it was 5 o’clock yet.

Tight security is a major benefit of staying in the bush.

No one's gettin' in here!