Lusaka, by the standards of most African capitals, is quite puny. A mere 1 million strong, and that million is spread paper thin by low density sprawl. But it's not at all too shabby once you get a sense of direction and learn how to get around in mini-buses... although there are always problems, like when your mini bus breaks down going uphill on a bridge. Then everyone has to disgorge themselves from the rust-bucket in the middle of some frantic traffic.
As far as "things to do" opinions differ. "There is nothing to do here but drink," says a snappily dressed professional woman aged 41, who I met at the Broad Backpackers Lodge. And maybe she's right, but you could do a lot worse, I think. English is widely spoken here by the elites, so you can chat it up with about anyone if you go out to disco-friday. There you will see jocund men with blackberries and sweater vest and there you will see big women yukking it up on ladies night Wednesdays . Last night I saw a Lexus.
But you never know who you'll meet. Just the other day at a Chines owned hotel I met a Colonel in the People's Liberation Army. After talking for 10 minutes (he had been singing some very bad karaoke, drinking seahorse whiskey and was sweating profusely) he left for sleeping but not before telling me to keep drinking at the bar and to but everything on his tab. He was happy, I think, that I showed him my Reservist military ID. A chip off the old block! If this is what Chines -American unilateralism looks like, I like it!
2 days remain, Bombay, get ready.
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