The horror of getting older

In my original vague outline of what might one-day have become an idea, I wasn't actually planning on visiting Zambia at this point in my trip at all. But having been told about this mythical ceremony called Kuomboka and being convinced to go, here i was. It was at that point that we accidentally discovered that due to some technical difficulties (the site wasn't ready, someone was drunk, the Zambian president wanted the dates changed. Nobody really knew) the ceremony was being postponed for a week. I'm not sure what the equivalent would be, although I suppose if the Pope suddenly deciding 2weeks before Easter that he had double booked Easter Sunday with a gurneying competition, and thus unilaterally declared that Easter was being delayed for a week, it might be roughly the same.

Which left us with a week, and Lusaka was not the place to spend it. Especially as a certain somebody had a relevant age-related date in the middle (meh. Everybody gets old at some point, and i was already past that point). So we headed to Lake Kariba. Which – ignoring the punctures on the way there – was actually really nice. I can't say that there was actually all that much to do, but that wasn't the point. It was beautiful and relaxed and I really liked it. About the most strenuous thing we did was drink wine, eat from all you can eat freshly BBQ'd buffets and take a boat trip around the lake. Wine, a beautiful Finnish woman, hippos in the water, sunset on the lake and an illegal stop-over on a Zimbabwean island for a few minutes. What more could you ask for? If this is what happens every time I get an unexpected date change, I can't complain.