I crossed the Zambezi via ferry into Zambia, leaving the South African Customs Union and beginning my foray into true African border crossings. This is one of those times that I really wish I had been better at taking more pictures because I'm not a great writer, and a picture would really be worth a thousand words. The border, like the rest that followed on my trip, was a chaos of semi trucks and mini busses; a mess of travelers, money changers, insurance salesmen and fixers. Pulling up to the ferry, I was already approached by many people wanting to help me through the border for a service fee, but I refused thinking that it couldnt be that difficult. After crossing the river I realized though, this is pretty damn confusing. There were several buildings and even more windows to visit. You have to essentially stamp out of one country, export your motorcycle from the first country, stamp into the next country, import your motorcycle into the next country, pay the road fee, pay the this fee, pay the that fee. Take this paper to that window and that paper to this window. A funny anecdote I had almost forgotten about until now - it was very hot, I'm wearing my whole riding getup and there is no air conditioning in any of these buildings, so sweat is just pouring down my arms and onto my hands, slowly soaking my paperwork I'm bringing from one window to another. I remember one lady asked "Did you spill on your paperwork?" as shes holding the wet paper with ink running. "Oh sorry, thats sweat...". She just shook her head and continued. One fixer was persistent and kept following me through the 2 hour maze, and despite me telling him no thank you, every time I would finish up business at one window, he'd be right there to guide me through the labyrinth to the next correct window, so all in all he was extremely helpful and I passed through the border. The problem is, if you don't negotiate the rate ahead of time with them, you get into problems afterwards. If I remember correctly, he initially wanted the equivalent of $50 dollars in Zambian kwacha for guiding me through the offices to which I vehemently refused. Its never just you and the fixer though, onlookers and his buddies gather around and you end up negotiating with a crowd. In the end, I paid him some $15 equivalent in kwacha, and probably another $5 in Botswanan coins. I chalk it up to $20 life lesson. From the border, it wasnt terribly far to Livingstone - a big tourism town famous for the Victoria Falls and various action sports you can do. The first hostel (a highly rated party hostel) I tried to go to was full, so they directed me to this place, run by two Zambians, Schoolboy and Bornwell. The hostel was completely empty besides me and two hostel volunteers: an irish guy Robby, and Irina, a Romanian girl. Despite being empty, it ended up being a really nice relaxing time for 2 or 3 nights. That first night we made nshima (pronounced she-ma), also known as mieliepap (or just pap), phutu, sadza or ugali. Nshima is not just food, it is THE staple in Zambia and throughout southern Africa. It is cornmeal mixed with water and stirred like mad until it reaches the desired consistency. On the plate it looks somewhat like mashed potatoes, but it is dry and fairly sticky. The eating method I learned is to grab a small ball of it and make sort of a spoon with your thumb, and use it as a vessel to pick up curries and sauces with your hand. Following this meal, I got nshima anywhere I could, because it is delicious and extremely cheap. Whenever I eat it though, my hands just get completely caked in nshima and usually end up with sauce all over my face, while Africans somehow manage to keep their hands and face completely clean. Experience, I guess! Victoria Falls didn't disappoint.