Taking it easy on the Zambezi

It’s not often that you can say you entered into a near-death experience voluntarily – that in fact, you read the disclaimer, thought to yourself, “This sounds highly unsafe”, and then proceeded to sign it anyway. The next thing you know, you’re perched casually in a pool at the edge of the largest waterfall in the world, deafened by the indomitable roar of the plummeting water, nothing but your desperate grip on a frayed rope preventing you from taking the 108 metre plunge that looms only a metre ahead. You’d think, in this situation, that your thoughts would be preoccupied with the immediate threat to your existence – if you had a hand on the magical Weasley clock from the Harry Potter series, it would most definitely be pointing at mortal peril at this moment. Instead, I found myself merely hoping that my bikini top would stay on long enough to get a decent photo. #priorities.

This is one of the more extreme ways to enjoy the wonder that is Victoria Falls. Spanning an impressive 1609 metres, the waterfall, known locally as Mosi oa-Tunya (“the smoke that thunders”), lies on the Zambezi River on its path between the borders of Zambia and Zimbabwe. Another daredevilish sight-seeing option is the bungee jump off Victoria Falls Bridge, where thrill-seekers can hurl themselves 111m down into the gorge below. For those not willing to dangle precariously over the falls or toss themselves off a bridge, the National Park provides a safe, on-land opportunity to view the majestic, mist-making cascade. 

I have to say though – however foolish it may be – not much beats the adrenaline rush in the Angel’s Armchair. This experience is usually offered as a package of the Devil’s Pool and Livingstone Island Tour, but at the time of our visit the Devil’s Pool wasn’t safe for swimming, and so we went to the Angel’s Armchair instead. The tour of the island consisted mainly of squelching around in the mud, wearing some chic flattering green rain ponchos, half-listening to our guide and wondering how much longer it would be until we got into the water. Afterwards, we were rewarded for our reckless behaviour with a very tasty breakfast enjoyed on the island (they even had warm scones. And you know how I feel about scones). 

Ohh yes.

I visited Victoria Falls from the town of Livingstone on the Zambian side, named after the Scottish explorer who discovered the falls in 1855. Having spent the month prior to this working in an isolated hospital in rural Malawi, Livingstone was like NYC to my companions and I. There were shops! Bakeries! Nightclubs! Even a chippers - which, in true Irish style, we were to become well acquainted with on our search for curry cheese chips in the early hours of a Saturday morning..

The infamous Sunset Booze Cruise is a quintessential part of any backpacker’s trip to Livingstone. A boat trip up the Zambezi, a BBQ dinner and an open bar until the sun sets – what more could you want? There’s even the opportunity to spot a sneaky croc or two on the way, if the Zambezi Specials haven’t addled your eyesight too soon. A mixture of vodka, gin and whiskey with a dash of orange juice and some interesting illuminous green liquid, these cocktails focus on delivering the most alcohol possible, at the expense of taste and your stomach lining. Just what was needed to cater to the large amount of Irish students on board. One of our compatriots was on his second Booze Cruise of the week – an NUIG man, wouldn’t you know ;) – and he warned us that when the sun set and the boat turned around, the bar would close. We took note of this, and as we were chatting, we kept watch for the slightest change in the boat’s orientation.

The drinking games began. The gin continued to flow. The sun dipped down to the horizon. The boat began to turn. We flocked to bar en masse.

“Three Zambezi Specials please!” 

“I’m out of gin!”

“Ok, vodka Diet Coke so!”

“I’m out of vodka!”

“Ah, alright whiskey Diet Coke so!”

“…I’m out of Diet Coke!”

“AH JAYSUS GIVE ME ANY SPIRIT AND MIXER YOU’VE GOT!!”

Between 3 people. Oh dear..

A raucous rendition of Boyzone’s “Baby Can I Hold You Tonight” in the downstairs cabin is the last memory many of us have of that evening, before we came to hours later in the afore-mentioned chippers, on a mission to satisfy our carb cravings. My friend had ordered a box of chips, and was given a plastic bag to transport them home in. She took the bag, and, unwatched by the staff, toddled her way to the condiment counter, where, in her Zambezied state, she proceeded to pack the large bottles of ketchup and sweet chilli sauce from the counter into her bag. Nothing we could say could persuade her that this was unnecessary and that she should leave them for the use of other customers. She was adamant that she must bring these delicious relishes back to the hostel with her. Eventually, we came to the compromise that she would take one bottle only, and the sweet chilli sauce was reluctantly exhumed from the bag and left behind. She has since been diagnosed with alcohol-induced kleptomania. :P

We woke up the next morning, the aroma of gin imbuing the air, a lonely ketchup bottle lying on its side on the floor. Victims of the Booze Cruise, merciless at the hands of an open bar, we wallowed in self-pity and tried to piece together the night from looking at our photos. Some questions were answered, some memories recovered, while others – such as, “Whose foot is that?!” – remain a mystery to this day.

Alcohol and chips were not the only luxury our newly beloved metropolis had to offer, however. A slightly more gourmet experience was our Afternoon Tea at the Royal Livingstone Hotel. The Royal Livingstone is a five-star hotel situated on the Zambezi outside of the town, near the head of the Falls. With its marble foyer and rolling grounds casually populated by wild zebra and antelope, it’s not the usual type of establishment frequented by grubby backpackers, but we had heard good things from friends who had been in Livingstone before us. And so we scrubbed the dust from every crack and crevice and donned our finest gear (/only remaining clean clothes that weren’t Africa pants) and headed off to Afternoon Tea.

A traditional singing group serenaded us while we made our wary entrance to the hotel, feeling just a tad out of place as valets delivered BMWs to the door and suitcases larger than our bodies were lugged to and fro. Having subsisted on a diet of rice and beans for four weeks, our bellies were crying out for something a little extravagant – well, we were in the right place. As bountiful as a table at a Hogwarts feast, a lavish spread of cakes, quiches, sandwiches, tarts, petit-fours and scones was laid out before us in a buffet style banquet. 

Wait - buffet?! We panicked. Tea had started half an hour ago, and we assumed that once a certain tray of treats was empty, it would not be refilled. So we grabbed our plates and hastened to fill them with one of almost everything on the buffet, lest we miss out on a single delectable morsel. Some of the other patrons cast amused looks at our loaded plates as we lugged them back to our table. We merely laughed and congratulated ourselves on our impressive hauls. Those fools with only the one egg and watercress sandwich on their paltry platters! How sorry they would be when they realised they’d missed out on the last of the strawberry tartlets. And smugly, we sat back and scoffed down.

Moments later, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and a host of polished waiters appeared, pushing trolleys of food to refill the trays that had been so brutally ransacked by the invading Irish. The strawberry tartlets were replenished. The egg and watercress sandwiches were overflowing. We exchanged sheepish looks. And wondered if it would be acceptable to go and get one of those new chocolate pastries that had appeared..

A few hours later, when the pain in our stomachs had finally subsided, we sat by the river, sipping cocktails and watching the sun on its diminuendo colour the coursing waters coral. There is a quote by Ernest Hemingway written on a wall in the dining room of the Royal Livingstone; “I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke that I was not happy”. And we agreed that, even on the gin-scented mornings, even on the days that dawned on dozens of new mosquito bites, our time in Livingstone – and indeed, our trip as a whole – was the very same. 

Berlin in brief

Christmas 2014.
The first time since coming to university that I didn't have Christmas exams, meaning that I could enjoy the run up to the holidays properly for a change. My housemates and I were in full Christmas mode. Fairy lights bedecked our living room, Hark Hear the Bells became our apartment anthem and Christmas jumpers were daily attire. But despite the spirit of the holidays flourishing inside our flat, something was missing outside..
Let's face it - the Christmas markets in Ireland are rather disappointing. The Docklands Festival was the best offering in recent years, but it was overpriced and lacking in atmosphere. The arrival of a host of wooden huts at St Stephen's Green last Christmas got my hopes up - a much better location and stalls that were actually festively decorated. Four hotdog stands and a Wok 'n' Roll later, my hopes were quenched. My Yuletide yearnings remained unsatisfied. 

The solution to my problem was clear - to get that Christmas kick I so craved, I'd have to travel to the motherland of the Christmas market - Germany. Berlin was a city I'd long wanted to visit, ever since I'd missed it on my inter-railing trip around East Europe four years ago. My boyfriend - although attracted more by the prospect of well-stocked record stores than mulled wine - had a similar desire, and so in the first week of our Christmas holidays, off we went to Berlin.

The markets did not disappoint. They were fabulous, from the lights, the stalls, the produce and the sheer amount of them - we visited three different ones, each far beyond anything we've had here in Dublin, and still there were plenty we didn't make it to. 
We drank mulled wine. We ate roast chestnuts. We zoomed down an icy hill on a rubber tire. 

The Christmas market at Gendarmenmarkt.

Delectable goodies on all sides..

 ..none more delectable than the Gluhwein, of course ;)

I'd have been satisfied by just visiting these markets and heading back to Ireland with a box of Vanillekipferl and my souvenir Gluhwein mug in tow. But Berlin has so much more to offer, and so we dragged ourselves away from the Christmas markets long enough to take in some of the other tourist attractions too.

I would highly recommend a visit to the Reichstag Dome. Set on the roof of the parlimentary buildings, you get a fantastic view across the city, and the Dome itself is spectacular. It requires booking in advance, but it's free (we love free things) and you get an audio guide to listen to as you walk in a spiral up the side of the Dome. The officials are a tad scary though. Eye contact discouraged.

We took in a 3 hour walking tour on our first day, which unfortunately also happened to be the coldest day of our trip (an emergency pit stop in H&M for wooly socks and gloves had to be made). There are all sorts of tours you can do, but we opted for the classic historical one with Sandeman's. This is also advertised as free, but really you're expected to give a donation of around €10, which is actually very reasonable given the length of the tour and the knowledge of the guides. The tour is not the most aesthetically pleasing, but it's extremely interesting and a great way to get an overview of the history of the city.

Pariser Platz, with Brandenburg Gate in the background

The Jewish Holocaust Memorial

Remnants of the Berlin Wall

We also visited the East Side Gallery, where the remains of the Wall are far more cheerful than those pictured above, and Museum Island, where a student ticket costs just €9 and gets you entry to four amazing museums. 

A section of the artwork at the East Side Gallery.

Renoir - Summertime at Alte Nationalgalerie

Sarcophagi at Neues Museum

Carved lions at the Pergamonmuseum

Of course, I couldn't do this post without talking about the food. Berlin is brimming with excellent restaurants and street food markets - but I think I'll let the photos do the talking here ;) There are some great Berlin food blogs you can consult if you need inspiration or want to find a particular type of cuisine - try Foodie Berlin and Berlin Food Stories.

Taiwanese bao and Berlin Balls at Street Food Thursday in Markthalle Neun, which boasts an impressive array of food stalls, each more delectable than the last. Decision-making at its most challenging.

Vietnamese pho at District Mot in Mitte

Baked pumpkin and potato with cranberry cream cheese at Neue Heimat 

Chocolate schnecke from Zeit Fur Brot

Brunch at Barcomi's Deli

No trip away would be complete without finding a scone and soy cappuccino..

I like to sample the local cuisine whenever I travel. But I'm going to be honest with you here - I'm not the biggest fan of sausage.

Now now, stop that, you dirty-minded divils. ;)
I'm not the type to wake up after a night on the Morgans and crave a dirty sausie sambo. Superquinn never won me over with their celebrated cylindrical sizzlers. 
But there's something about a juicy Berlin bratwurst that beggars belief..

Succulent, delicately spiced, served on fresh bread rolls to a pair of very cold, hungry Irish tourists.. It was sensational. It's not something that I would eat every day (certainly not now that I've gone vegetarian :P), but I couldn't go to Berlin and not sample this traditional cuisine.

In the same way, I felt I couldn't go to Berlin and not sample the traditional nightlife. Those of you who are into the dance scene will be aware that Berlin is revered as the current techno capital of the world. It's home to some world-famous clubs like Berghain and Tresor, where top techno DJs like Ben Klock and Marcel Dettman are residents and which are notorious for their strict door policy. Tips for getting in include: Don't speak in the line. Don't be too drunk. Don't go up in a group with more than 2 boys. Don't be a tourist. Not a lot to ask now, is it?
We were there mid-week, meaning most clubs were shut until the weekend, but Tale Of Us were playing in one of the large clubs, Watergate, on the Wednesday night. We decided to chance our arms at getting in. Sure, two pale, ginger(ish) Irish people, with a bottle of wine downed on the U-Bahn and not a word of German between them - what could go wrong?
We joined the queue around midnight, watching nervously as some people walked back down the line looking dejected. We made friends with the toothless homeless man wobbling up and down the queue in search of alcohol. We practised saying "Ich spreche kein Deutsch". We shared some vodka with the alt-looking Slovenian pair behind us in the queue (until the homeless man caught wind of it and that was the end of that). And finally, around 12.45, we were at the door. Lines prepared, IDs in hand, expecting but dreading rejection... 

Hours of stomping techno later, we emerged into the early-morning light, shells of our former selves. Inside, the music thumped on, the fists pumped on, but we weary travellers slumped on home. Watergate had defeated us, but what a glorious battle it had been..

So inconspicuous..

Berlin may not be as warm or welcoming as some other European cities in terms of its climate, its people and its architecture, but it more than makes up for it with its history, its diversity and its arts and culture (yes, techno counts under culture). Normally after I visit a new city, I don't intend to return in the near future - I'm on a world mission, you know. That Scratch Map ain't gonna scratch itself ;) - but Berlin is an exception to that rule. I'd gladly return at the next opportunity that arose - plus a few extra pairs of socks and minus any notions of vegetarianism ;)

where the sky begins..

Inspired by tonight's amazing moon, I dug up this photo I took last summer on a scuba dive expedition in Mexico. Our camp was in a national biosphere reserve (Sian Ka'an, near Tulum), so from the moment the sun rose in the morning over the Caribbean sea, to the time the burnt orange moon made its appearance in the evening, we were surrounded by stunning nature - both under the sea and above :)

chasing a hummingbird

snapped this buzzer two years ago on Coronado Island in San Diego, having spent two hours the previous day trying to get a shot of one in Balboa Park - they are speedy lil things! i think it may be a female Anna's hummingbird (based on some fiiine Google searching), but if anyone wishes to correct me, please do!