Lusaka - Livingstone, Zambia
We leave the millionaire expat lifestyle behind and return to the two-poor geezers-with-bikes-harassed-by-bus-station-spivs game.
It is a "five hour journey south to Livingstone," we are told - and your heart sinks, because in A.T. five probably means ten.
Luckily for us, we are the last to board the 'Namibia Bus', stopping at Livingstone.
"You wouldn't happen to be a Norwegain bloke cycling to the world cup, would you?" a young Muzungu asks Bjorn. Tim has got a copy of the Zambian Daily Post in his hands with said story about said Norwegian. Somebody else reading the Zambian Times also gives a knowing nod: today's fresh off the press article mentions a Norwegian cyclist, (Mr. Bjorn Heidenstrom), and his new travel companion 'Justine'. Makes it sound like Bjorn's picked up a random transvestite en route.
The road south to Livingstone is unspectacular, by the standards so far experienced, and certainly the most industrial to date. Fuel is 8500 per litre, or 1.20 pounds - about the same as the UK.
5 hours...6, 8, 10, 11 hours later we pull into Livingstone, the bus violently rattling over a stretch of road that wouldn't be out of place in delapidated Burma.
We are met off the bus by Tore, a locally-based Norwegian, who kindly contacted us by phone 24 hours earlier and offered to put us up for a day or two. We don't know his name so he's been stored in ou phone as 'Dr. Livingstone I presume".
Tore works for Norwegian Christian Aid.
Sadly though, the two hitchbikers sit in the back of his Toyota as he pulls into his private house whispering "Shit, if he's a full-on Christian he probably won't want beer in his house,"
"Yeah, I'm dying for a beer...alternatively though he could be an axe murderer so it's not the worst result,"
Tore leads us into his home from home and tells us, "Help yourselves to some beers from the fridge."
There follows an excellent Norwegain supper, countless beers and several hours of good chat.