December 6

I think it's fair to say today didn't exactly live up to yesterday's shenanigans. Up at 3.30am to get some (legal!) taxis at 4.00am to catch a bus which would take us to Lusaka after a 6-7 hour journey. In fairness, it was one of the nicest buses I have ever been on, had five seats across and even had a movie. Having been subjected to the new remake of Karate Kid four times already (on the boats to and from Zanzibar), we joked when we saw the TV that they'll probably show put us through Karate Kid again. Oh how we laughed.
Until, that was, an hour later, when an even louder eruption of laughter greeted the sight of that very movie coming up on the TV screen - to the bafflement of the rest of the bus. We all agreed that the continent Africa either bought the movie on bulk in a clear-out sale or else it was a subliminal ploy to improve relations between Africa and China.
Anyways, we arrived in Lusaka, where the heavens soon opened. This was the first we had seen of real African rain as we entered their short rain season. It wouldn't be the last.

December 5 (The Zambian Job)

The Zambian Police pull over our taxis after a high-octane car chase!

After finding out last night that our truck Matilda had broken down, we set off this morning in a small coach. While not quite as adventurous looking as our regular truck, this adventure would bring us one of our biggest and funniest adventures yet. Having given my old Dundalk jersey to Mel Gibson for a 'cultural exchange' (he gave me a painting of his) he greeted us this morning wearing the famous Lilywhite outside the camp - a bizarre sight!
So off we headed for the Zambian border, where we did our thing at immigration before exchanging currencies with some dodgy hawkers - one tried to scam me by putting 5,000s in with 50,000s. That wasn't the end of skulduggery, however. Our tour leader Geoff called a few taxis over, which were waiting at the other side of the border, to take us to the campsite, about 15km away.
Someone nonchalantly pointed out, just as we were hopping in, that the taxis didn't possess any number plates. About 2 minutes later, when we approached a police checkpoint just down the road from the border, we discovered why. Our own taxi and two others performed swift U-turns in full view of the policeman, before darting off the edge of the road and into a dirt track through the bushes.
"You don't have a license, do you?" Joe asked with a laugh.
"No," he replied with an even bigger laugh. He didn't seem too fazed but bombed on at top speeds through the hut-villages where some kids actually ran in fright at the sight of white people in speeding cars passing their   homes.
So, there we were, in the back of an illegal taxi bombing through bushed and nomadic villages trying to escape the police. The piece of shit car took a few heavy knocks to the chassis, one of which I fully felt underfoot as if it had whacked my bare foot. Me being me, I started to worry a little, imagining us being dumped in the middle of a Zambian outback, and began to worry more when I lost all coverage on my phone. Anyways, after a 20 minute time trial race through no man's land, we finally saw the road again  and emerged back onto tarmac at the most opportune time. Just as the taxi driver was about to breathe a sigh of relief on our re-emergence, he looked left to be greeted by a police car speeding towards us with lights flashing.
All of our taxi drivers pulled over and the policeman emerged from his vehicle. Far from a scene from the African Terminator, however, the copper came out laughing! This is Africa.
Over here, officials are far from official - this policeman was only recognisable from the average citizen thanks to his high-vis vest top. In other words, those furious walking housewives that power through the streets of Blackrock could easily pass as a purveyor of law and order over here. Anyways, the taxi drivers were fined but carried on with their business and dropped us to our site.
Another adventure, but this one came completely out of nowhere and is unlikely to ever be repeated.

December 4

Today, we took a walk through Kande village, beside our campsite, with the self-titled Mel Gibson giving us the tour. All the guys in the village made up names for themselves and one guy who was trying to sell me some paintings had rather modestly given himself the alias "Mr Smooth". We saw the village, the food, the school, the market, all the while being followed by local kids who grabbed your hand at every possible opportunity and walked aimlessly with you hand in hand.
Later on, we were taken for a traditional dinner outside Mel Gibson's house, where we were fed a lovely cucumber soup before a mash, rice and meat main course. After the dinner, the village locals treated us to a drumming, singing and dancing performance. While it was all very cultural and interesting, the dancing show was more than a little disturbing, with kids as young as 3-4 encouraged to "shake their booties" in the style of sex-driven rap videos. Nevertheless, one-by-one, we all got up to dance alongside before they sang a few African songs as well as the Malawi national anthem, before we returned home through the pitch dark to our campsite.

December 3

Halloween outfit sorted for years to come

Grant revelling in his special day

Ben looking rather fetching in the ensemble I created

For those who saw the picture posted on Facebook and wondered what in Christ's name lead me to be dressed up like Gary Glitter's love child, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. It was bad taste night, where one person dresses another in the most ridiculous outfit possible. As I explained yesterday, I got exactly who I wanted, and dressed Ben in a leopard-skin string top with a matching mini-skirt, but also decided there was already enough danger of us throwing up later tonight so opted to give him some nice pink polka dot pyjama bottoms for under the skirt, with a pink veil putting the icing on the spectacularly homosexual cake.
When we gathered around the pineapple/alcohol punch everybody exchanged outfits and it soon boiled down to myself and Ben, who had coincidentally drawn each other. I put my head in my hands expecting some skimpy ensemble for the night but it turned out I got lucky. He got me a superb glam rock outfit topped with a white leotard for good measure.
After a great night that included me dancing on the bar to Ireland's alternative national anthem, Bewitched's "C'est la vie", before knocking out a few choons on the guitar at the bar, we went for a late night swim in Lake Malawi, with the Milky Way clearly visible above us and constant lightning away in the distance. It was a truly stunning night sky, one of the best I have ever seen.

December 2

Options aplenty for Bad Taste night

Spot that old Man Utd jersey your mother gave to charity against your will - a Malawi clothes market

We made our way to Kande Beach today, although it wasn't the most comfortable of journeys considering I was hit by a stomach bug. Along the way we stopped in Mzuzu to purchase our goods for "Bad taste night", a traditional overlanders night where you pick a name out of a hat and buy that person the most ridiculous and embarrassing atire possible to wear for one night. I kept my pokerface, but I got exactly who I wanted - Ben.
We arrived at the market where they are selling clothes that have been donated from abroad. Any doubts that this "Bad Taste Night" was just a once off were gone as soon as the hawkers, instead of offering jerseys or drugs, were waving tutes, mini-skirts and belly-tops in my face. They knew what we were after.
So I got a lovely leopard-skin mini skirt and shoulder top ensemble, with some pink pyjamas and a pink veil for a touch of variety!
After a drive through some beautiful mountains Malawi countryside, we arrived at Kande Beach. With my stomach still recovering, I opted not to drink but seeing Emma for the first time in almost three weeks (on Skype) seemed to have a big effect and I soon recovered enough to smoke some shisha before heading to my room for a rather delightful sleep!

December 1

Sampling the local Malawi brau - Carlsberg Stout!

Another day, another 500km. And on Matilda, 500km is a long way. We journeyed from the Farm House in Tanzania, through the Malawi border (another stamp, woohoo!) to Chitimba, where we stopped at another nice campsite, this one owned by a quiet and peculiar Dutchman, who, we were told, has a Facebook page dedicated to Safari porn. We joked that we would give the golddust that we had all gathered from our safari adventures, but having met him, I wouldn't be quite so sure that it was all a big joke!
We arrived anyways, ate, had a couple of beers and went to bed, although a bit of a shaky stomach meant I didn't get a great sleep.

November 30

A midget elephant -  smaller than normal due to the poor quality of grazing. The Hum-V was parked out back.

My morning began with a tinge of disappointment. My first thought when I awoke was, "I hope Ben got one of those girls back to his tent." I emerged from my own and looked over. A brief glimpse of hope when I saw some flowing locks emerge, but alas, it was just Joe.
Today was a long day of driving, well over 12 hours but the highlight for me was that for the first time, I fell asleep on the bus! Might have had something to do with the under-three hours sleep.
Anyways we drove through another National Park, where we saw some baboons and elephants, these ones unique in that they are smaller than regular ones due to the poor quality of grazing.
Then we arrived in our Farm House campsite, where we took advantage of the hot showers and then had a lovely meal in their restaurant, before we retired early to bed ahead of another early morning and long days travelling.

November 29

Waiting for Matilda to start at 4.30am. Unfortunately, she never did.

So, there we were, tents packed, bags packed and listening to the Muslim chants ringing through the air at 5am, when all of a sudden a snapper in the works. Matilda wouldn't start. We sat, we waited, we wondered, before being told that we couldn't go anywhere and would have to spend another night in the sticky clammy Dar campsite. It would also put us a day behind on our schedule which would have to be made up elsewhere, and probably somewhere better.
Nevertheless, we tried to fill the hours and at Tam's behest, we organised a taxi to the innovatively - titled "Fan City", which was rather wisely advertised as "Africa's first AND largest Theme Park". It was close and cheap so we said why not. On the way we all guessed what crazy and scary rollercoasters they might have but as it rolled into we view we began to realise that, inevitably, it wouldn't quite live up to our expectations. And, lo and behold, it didn't. Not only was it tiny, full of kids rides and half-assed adrenaline rides, but it was also CLOSED!
So Fun City didn't quite live up to its billing. It has left a legacy and a good story, where now everything fun we do is "good, but it's no Fun City!" Later, we had a few drinks at the bar and were joined by three girls, two from South Africa and one from Malawi who were good fun and had interesting aspects on living in Africa as a Mzungo (white person). I retired for 3 sleep and left and Ben with the girls, hoping that Ben getting some from at least one!

November 28

A typical Zanzibar scene - archictecturally quite different to the rest of East Africa

A Stonetown sidestreet, close to our Hotel

After finishing last night in "Mercury's", named after Zanzibar and Stonetown's most famous son, Freddie Mercury, we were set to leave the island today. We packed our stuff and headed for the ferry.
Stonetown was a strange place - very beautiful with lovely architecture, nice bars and restaurants, while it also appeared to be quite fun and "happening" (relative to African standards), but it was also impossible to escape the hawkers on the streets, desperate to sell you anything from a fake Tanzania jersey to whatever drugs you wanted (which seemed as readily available as a bottle of water).
So, onto the ferry we hopped, passing by Zanzibar's own immigration (apparently they yearn to be independent and act as if they already are) along the way. The ferry trip wasn't all that bumpy but I still didn't feel great, even before the girl beside me started throwing up in her bag!
We eventually arrived back to the boiling hot Dar Es Salaam, moved our already-set up tents (despite the best efforts of a snake) and headed for another sweaty sleep, ready for a 4am start tomorrow and a long couple of days driving.

November 27

This morning I was awoken by the voice of Faye, who was also responsible for putting me to bed the previous evening. I found this out later today, of course, but before then I had to go through the shuddering feeling of lying in bed not knowing how I got there nor knowing what happened in the intervening hours between bedtime and getting off the boat. Like a hungover, whiskey-smelling Jason Bourne with much less impressive pecs, I tried to piece together the events of the night through the others but luckily I had done nothing embarrassing and even more conveniently, the Australian girl Eva was far more drunk and embarrassing than me! Score!
So, hangovers in tow, we made our way to Stonetown but first stopped off at a spice farm, where we saw and smelt cloves, peppers and vanilla amongst many other things, under the guidance of the hilarious Ali T, who came complete with all the Aussie phrases ("bloody good tucker mate!") and a few good jokes and most memorably, a very unique and side-splitting tendency to finish his sentences with a drawn out and girly-sounding drone ("so you see they are lovely spicesssssssssss"). It actually had myself and Tam literally in tears at the start, which I'm not sure he appreciated, and I've no idea how the others stayed straight-faced.
We then arrived in Stonetown, had a stroll around, batting off hawkers all the way, before having a nice group dinner which concluded with Rich and Tam showing off their skills on the melody pop in celebration of Rich's birthday.

November 26

Above: The view of the Indian Ocean from our Zanzibar hotel (Note - Drunken Irish idiot singing national anthem not pictured)

Today is one of the few days of which I have no photographs whatsoever. Similarly, this evening is the first of which I have absolutely no memory past a certain point! Having (obviously) turned down the chance of another day's scuba diving, I prepared myself for this afternoon's booze cruise with a dose of relaxation mixed with a larger dose of blog-updating!
Then came the fun. At about 4pm we boarded a rickety little wooden boat with a top deck and equipped it with a couple of ice boxes full of booze. We started on the (warm) beers and the conversation was flowing, from chats about BBC's declining standards in broadcasting to Gus's scriptwriting plans to Geoff's coming out of the closet as a kid. See, until this point my memory was crystal clear.
But then came the whiskey. And lots of it.
Next thing I was stood on the top deck, hand to chest, singing Amhran na bhFiann, complaining about how the others didn't know the words to their own anthems (although it did make me feel a lot better for making up a few words as Gaeilge during my own rendition) and then we arrived back just after sunset, all absolutely pished.
After that, nada. I had dinner, which was news to me the following morning, before almost falling asleep in it. Oh dear. I certainly won't remember this one, but I'm sure the rest will for a long time.