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At the end of February 2010, my brother Ben and I began a roadtrip across southern Africa.
First, we headed to Cape Agulhas, up through Cape Town to the desert nation of Namibia where we danced with lingerie-clad maidens, got close to desert elephants, were drenched by the Epupa and Ruacana Falls, and were surrounded by an "upset demon orchestra" in the Caprivi Strip. After that, we saw a lunar rainbow - or moonbow - at Victoria Falls, were special guests at an opposition rally in western Zimbabwe, and had a boot stolen by a hyena in Mana Pools. Somehow, in Mozambique we were guests on a crocodile farm where we visited a local chief with the boss to buy two crippled cows, and then watched his team butcher them and then feed two-kilo beef chunks to a swarm of three to six-meter long crocs. Making our way to Malawi, we struggled to the top of "Don't Go There" peak of Sepitwa and cruised in the bowels of the Ilala ferry toparadisiacalislands and diving. Crossing the breadth of Tanzania, we spent nearly a month along the Swahili coast, visiting Zanzibari wonders, exploring Dar es Salaam, and escaping police custody after a run-in with the Vice President's motorcade. After 22,000 kilometers in four months, well, we rooted for Team USA against Slovenia and Algeria at the World Cup, shaved, and gained some weight back. |
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