Crossing borders is my favorite - there is nothing like watching the crossroads of 3rd world life, bureacracy, ferries, produce, products, businessmen, truckers and the odd little face of a tourist or two toting backpacks and looking out of place. Some scared, some harrassed looking, and some barely noticing that they aren't in Kansas anymore. There is always ample time to observe these myriad of things as the guantlet of forms and queues are processed and waited on, first on one side, then on the other. Enterprising vendors make use of the bored masses by offering cold cokes and native trinkets all outrageously priced, and even then, they want the bottle back! Before boarding the ferry, entertainment was provided by a gang of Botswanan men physically threatening a man whom I assumed to be Zambian with
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