Before leaving for my trip to the largest body of land on the planet, I did my typical pre-flight routine. I laid out my suitcase and organized my things into their places. I packed minimally to account for the future hassle of traveling across country lines, leaving behind extra outfits for my 2010 Canon camcorder. It felt appropriate to film the upcoming travels on a camera my family used to film home videos with, since two months prior, I had been cleaning out my college apartment and getting ready to build my own adult life, in the “real world.” Little did I know I would feel so much closer to the real world halfway around the globe and deep beneath the equator than I ever could have hoped for.
Cape Town – The start
Once we arrived in Cape Town, excitement and adrenaline made way for reality. Winding through the mountain, on our way to check into the chic and homey boutique hotel called Cape Cadogan, I couldn’t believe I was really in South Africa. Entranced, I watched the rich blue waves glisten and gleam in the sun before I noticed the colorful neighborhoods built on the bordering cliffsides. Images of street art and local life flickered past me in the car as I got closer to the bustling Central Business District of Cape Town.
Our first night, I chose to leave my camcorder behind as an attempt to stay present. I will never forget walking along the Victoria pier at sunset and watching the city glow from the Willaston Bar, located at the top of the Silo Hotel. Cape Town was unlike anything I had ever seen.
But the next morning, prior to our first full day of sightseeing, I turned on my camcorder to make sure everything was running smoothly. Confirming my gut feeling, there was something terribly wrong: a blank screen and no way for me to fix it. I had spent months becoming accustomed to the mechanics and style, how could it fail me now? There was no choice but to take to the city without my devices and appreciate all the things around me I couldn’t capture on a screen.
All around the city lives curious architecture, bright wall art, dark alleys, and dining experiences so friendly they felt familial. Some of favorites include Faeeza’s Home Kitchen in Bo-Kaap for the warmest home-cooked meal, the Black Sheep Restaurant for a captivating menu that reframes the classics, and The Potluck Club in The Old Biscuit Mill for a high-energy environment and delectable dishes meant for sharing.
The historical landmarks and protected terrains we visited felt less like typical tourist activities and more like transformative experiences. Our walk around Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden with the engaging, kind, and knowledgeable professional, our tour guide Ian, serves as an excellent example. Driving around the Cape of Good Hope, hiking up to the Old and New Cape Point Lighthouses—the land spoke for itself, like it emanated a quiet and unmovable energy. As I ventured around the most south-western point on the African continent, I felt like I was standing on solid ground after spending a long time drifting in water.
Franschhoek – Wine Country
After three nights and four days in magnificent Cape Town, we drove to an area of South Africa known for its vineyards, called Franschhoek. Now, I should preface that the “we” I keep referring to is, my same-aged cousin, his parents, and their baby boomer friends. If you think I sound harsh, I apologize, but the playful, generational gap callout is necessary. The time I spent in Franschhoek—undoubtedly serene, luxurious, a wine lover’s dream—was not my idea, and I was just happy, unequivocally, to take the ride.
The weather was damp and cloudy, but the walking, shopping, and winetasting at Babylonstoren remained charming and delightful despite. My other favorite wine venture was a spontaneous, and tipsy, choice called Oldenburg Vineyards, with a warm fireplace, butter and carbs, and more delicious wine for us to taste. By the end of the four nights in Franschhoek, I could no longer contain my excitement to get to Botswana.
Botswana – Safari time
Devastated at the sight of my useless video camera, I decided to leave it behind in my larger bag at the Maun airport. The instructions had been clear — essential safari gear only, pack as lightly as possibly. I felt nervous to leave it unsupervised; just because it was broken didn’t mean it had no value to me. But two things happened when we arrived in Botswana that ultimately changed the trajectory of the trip for me. Firstly, my uncle had brought a point and shoot camera, and since he wasn’t all that interested in taking photos, he agreed to let me hold on to it. Secondly, we met our wonderful, personable, and very reassuring safari guide, Ryan. Thanks to them, I could leave the dysfunctional camcorder behind and try my hand at photography.
I will never forget the plane ride from Maun to Jacana Wilderness, our first camp. The butterflies in my stomach could have been from the tiny aircraft jumping through the sky as it transported us, but it was more likely because of the striking birds-eye view of the Okavango Delta. Crystal ravines coursing throughout the heart of lush, green marsh, far away silhouettes of the wild animals we would later seek out, and not a single cloud across the horizon. Both game camps I stayed at, Jacana and Chief’s Sanctuary, were wildly unique, yet similar, it seemed, in their devotion to hospitality as an exchange of cultures, knowledge, and perspectives.
Life changing
The facilities were spectacular, the safari experience otherworldly, but it was the openness of the people I met throughout my week in Botswana that has left behind such a prominent legacy. Every conversation brimmed with sincerity and kindness, and it really was the people who made the place. Ryan, who I greeted as a guide and said goodbye to as a friend, emphasized safari as a roller coaster of emotions. After reflecting on my own safari experience, I thought a lot about what that meant to me.
It was the real world, as natural as I had ever seen, and for a week, I had the privilege to live in it. I rose with the sun and tired with the dark; quieted all my thoughts so I could pay attention to my senses; inhaled wafts of wild sage deeply and exhaled steadily as various creatures passed us peacefully. I learned the names, traits, and characteristics of the wildlife around me, interacting so closely it made me feel like my life back at home was made out of plastic.
I witnessed a pack of wild dogs attempt to kill warthog, only for a clan of hyenas to run away with the final prize. I watched lionesses lounge in the expansive shade with the pride’s cubs until they bored and climbed to the top branch of the largest tree. For hours, I looked for new birds to spot and capture on camera, perched or mid-flight, boundless. Many nights, hippos fought, lions roared, and elephants crossed outside my door as I laid wide awake, unable to calm myself down from what I had encountered that day.
Beyond the memories I cherish dearly, my time in Botswana and South Africa is remembered through pictures on my screens. From time to time, I’ll look through them, dreaming about the day I can return.
