Rovos Rail

We knew this would be luxurious; we had no idea how much it would blow our collective minds. From the moment that we were dropped off, we were enveloped in a cloud of luxury. The train station is situated next to the Victoria Falls Hotel, itself no small bit of luxury. We wee met at the station by a concierge who plied us with drinks before we got to the platform and were entertained by a group of nine men dressed as Zulu warriors, dancing and singing for us (and, frankly, for tips and the sales of their CD). They worked hard for the money they got, and Darlene and I, at least, were impressed by the energy they showed, as well. Their harmonies and drummings. But the big surprise was yet to come.

We got on the train, and were escorted to our room. We were told that we had been upgraded to the Royal Suite. We were initially worried that we might have to pay some kind of surcharge for this, but the train manager, Joe, came by and explained that it had not been rented, and he liked Canadians, and we were the only Canadians, so he moved us there. Not too shabby!

As I was writing this, I had had a shower while watching the scenery going by out the window, had a lunch which should keep me for the next three days, and had been looking out the window at Baobabs and savannas of Zimbabwe. It doesn't get a lot better, I expect.

As we sat down for our elegant supper (for which Bob even wore a tie and a jacket borrowed from Richard), we realized that, in fact, it does get better. Dinner was a four-course affair held in an elegant coach, with wines paired to each course. And wonderful wines they were. Again, we were going to stumble and roll into our beds. And just as well, since they rails are not well-maintained in this part of the world, and the train did an good imitation of rock and roll through the night.

We passed overnight into Botswana, a much more arid area. This country is one of just over two million people, with a high average income per year, but also a big disparity between rich and poor. Its government is stable, theoretically a democracy, but more actually an autocracy. And many stops along the way for passing freights, disabled trains ahead of us, or water or fuel refills. It took all day to get through this small country, but by midnight, we were again at a border crossing, this time into South Africa.

Sleep was good. Darlene had had a bath in the elegant bathtub of our royal suite, and came to bed. She had a troubling rash on her legs which she felt was a sun reaction, but turned out to be the forewarning of a larger allergic reaction. As I write this part of the story, she is covered in rash, has taken some allergy meds, and is asleep. We are hoping it is not an allergy to the malaria meds.

As we entered into South Africa, the land became more fertile, and there were farms of corn, sunflowers, and other crops, as well as cattle ranches. It became more hilly as well. And, of course, as we got closer to Johannesburg, we encountered mines and larger settlements.

The train ends in Pretoria, the capital city of South Africa, and we transfer to Jo'burg and a plane trip back to Cape Town.

Almost a postscript here: the train was supposed to end in Pretoria, after a brief stop in an out-lying area of Jo'burg to change engines. But, of course, this is Africa. So the company that had a contract to supply an engine to the train had no engine to supply, and simply shrugged its collective shoulders. We were hurriedly packed up, put into a minivan, and whisked to the Johannesburg Airport, some distance overall, and got there with only a small amount of time to spare. Fortunately, the plane ride was good, and got in on time. Unfortunately, Darlene's allergy was getting worse, and she was feeling chilled the whole while back (no, malaria does not start with a rash). A medical consult is on the books.


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Location:Zimbabwe, Botswana, South Africa