This is likely to be a self-indulgent and wearisome post, since I both like the sound of my own voice and am currently failing miserably to upload any photos. I was compelled, however, by my dictatorial tour leader, diabolical shrew as she is, to upload some of my futile musings. So if you are not deterred by great swathes of pictureless and dour prose, and would like to know more about overlanding Malawi, or if you are simply a glutton for punishment, then please do read on.
Malawi is dubbed "The warm heart of Africa", famed for its temperate climate and welcoming people. Indeed, unbelievably friendly welcomes were extended to us mzungus throughout, although slightly less kindliness was shown to the pig that was ritually slaughtered at dawn for our hog roast. I now know the true resonance of the phrase "to squeal like a stuck pig". Needless to say, no alarm clocks were required that morning. RIP Betty, you made a tremendous sacrifice.
In the interests of brevity, I had better describe the highlight of Malawi - Kande Beach. Situated on the shores of Lake Malawi (which David Livingstone - absolute legend - accurately and eloquently dubbed "the glittering sea of stars"), it was surely one of the most beautiful spots we have passed through all tour. And, like true foreigners, we proceeded to befoul this tranquil spot by holding a raucous dress up party, clad in the most ridiculous attire our busmates could dredge from a local market and fuelled by a noxious brew of homemade punch, which smelled and tasted like witches' farts, but succeeded in its sole aim of inebriation. Incriminating photos of various tour members dancing on the camp bar and our dear leader, Trotsky, dressed in an outfit comprised solely of an oversized swimming costume and fluffy dog-shaped slippers (innovatively placed) to follow.
Lake Malawi is not only a beautiful spot, but also offers an incredible range of activities besides mere inebriation. Between us, we managed to go horse riding (stunning ride through the local villages, culminating in swimming the horses in the lake), cliff jumping, scuba diving and a solo tour through a fishing village dressed only in Speedo's and a pair of swimming goggles (a certain tour member became lost whilst swimming, and was forced to perform a walk of shame, to the collective cackles and lusty glances of the local women).
Malawi is often neglected as a tourist destination, which is a terrible shame given that us lifers (those chumps doing the full 58-day trip from Nairobi to Cape Town via Uganda) agreed that it was, along with Uganda, the most beautiful and friendly country thus far. Where else would one be invited to dinner at a local house, be invited to participate in a really rather saucy dance with two very large local men, and be offered "special birthday cake" which, we were assured, would cause us to "skank with Bob Marley in paradise" all in the same evening?
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