ITCHY FEET TRAVELS

Maun, Botswana

May 16, 2024

The flight from Johannesburg to Maun was on a puddle jumper where a glance at the other passengers, gave me an inkling of the kind of travelers heading to Maun. Mostly older, clearly well-heeled from the US or Europe, many of them were simply landing in Maun for a few minutes before being whisked off by air to a camp deep in the delta. These are the sort of safaris that run from a mere few thousand USD per night to tens of thousands. I most definitely do not belong to this bracket. Oh well, I thought, I can spend a few days in Maun checking with travel agencies and join a group of the less exalted. The view from the plane showed a stretch of blue of the delta and scrub land dotted with a few settlements. I squirmed in my seat with excitement. Since the trip to Botswana on a whim  in 2016, I had been wanting to see the Okavango delta among other places. How exciting!

Maun wears its cloak of scruffiness with pride. The center of town is barely a few of streets wide and most of the town is stretched out along the single tarmac road with the camps and lodges strung out like dusty beads along it. Public buses are non-existent. Making my way to Audi, I am not quite sure what I expected but it certainly wasn’t this splashy place with its pretty thatched restaurant and bar, its sparkling pool and tented sites. But the camp’s popularity and my usual lack of planning meant I could only get a tent for a night. But no matter, I thought. I’m dragging along all my camping gear and so am ensconced in campsite.

The Thamalakane river out front is bone dry and has been so for two years. Near another camp, a small pool of stagnant water called a Hippo boasts three hippos and a couple of crocodiles bake in the sun.

I can begin looking around to join safari groups I thought. And hit a brick wall. Most of the tourists come in pre-booked groups and tour operators flatly refuse to let me join them. Thou shalt not mingle is apparently a revered commandment in Botswana. Other tourists self-drive with rented vehicles and this being peak season, there are little or no vehicles available for rent. I spent the better part of a couple of days asking other tourists at my camp. Zero. And asked every travel agency in town. Zip. Maybe I can go myself I thought. But there is a golden rule, likely commandment number two: a minimum of two people are required. So, zip. Thou shalt not mingle is revered with fervency.

But in one of my tramps to town I discovered a place that serves local food – a welcome respite from the boringly bland western fare on the menu at camp. Planet Culture serves only traditional food. Unable to understand the dishes, I wandered into the open-air kitchen and peeked into the pots.

Pounded biltong, pulled goat meat, a bean dish and the local equivalent of pap was delicious! I trundled back to camp in a shared taxi. The search for other tourists and/or tours continues.