After doing nothing all afternoon except high tea at 4 pm then we had to wait an entire four hours before dinner. Chicken Tarragon and rice and peas and carrots, not peas 'n carrots. Tasty meal. I know it is almost a cliché'dish but chicken tarragon is pretty high on my list of faves.
I lightened my luggage a little. I had lugged around a plastic throwaway poncho because the guide books said to. This being the rainy season and all. The only rain I've seen was one afternoon in Duma Tau and the only other rain was Camelot rain in Davison Camp. You know Camelot where it only rains after sunset. After a short rest in my room I needed to get out of the room and ran into Eva Braun of the Master Race. Seeing Christina's seventy year old body in a black one piece bathing suit was something that I tried to avoid with my eyes. After a certain age when it comes to bathing suits we should all be required to wear burkas. I knew she was going to Victoria Falls next and it might come in handy, or not. But if I gave it to her I wouldn't be forced to schlep the darned thing around any longer.
We got news that Donald was ill. I overheard the guides saying that he was feverish and laying down. At tea we were informed that we would be getting a new guide for tomorrow. When I was escorted from my room for dinner at dark Moses said that Donald was in the hospital with an I.V. plugged into his arm. He is as good as a parrot at not showing his maladies. He was laughing and joking all the way back from Bain's Baobab and then to find out a few hours later that he is so sick that they had to airlift him out to the hospital was quite a shocker.
The new guide, Moremi is alright. Maybe it is because he is the relief pitcher for Donald and we had already had a built in rapport that I haven't really meshed with him. Maybe I won't because I leave tomorrow and there are four new people due this afternoon I might just pass on the pm game drive. The Cruiser seats six clients and that means someone gets the middle seat, and I don't want it to be me.
I got nuttin' - bye.
Tomorrow I depart. Cessna to Maun. Midsized jet to J'berg. Big Air France jet to Paris. Maybe even bigger Air France jet to Seattle and then a 40 passenger Horizon Air Dash-8 and a yellow taxi or maybe a Honda Pilot home. It is going to be a near 48 hour day, bed to bed. I am not looking forward to that. I sure would like to get a layover in Paris. 1) It would be nice to see that metal tower and see if I can stuff another 5000 calories of cream laden sauces before returning to celery stalks and carrot sticks. But number 2 is more important, just to break up the flights into manageable pieces.