Wildlife Preserve, South Africa
Our first night in the tent I woke to a loud thump on the deck, followed by a rattling of the door to the hot tub area. I woke Husband.
“Someone’s trying to break in,” I whispered.
He dutifully grabbed the flashlight to check it out. Ten minutes later, he returned.
“Well?” I asked.
“It’s our neighbors. They wanted to use the hot tub.”
I thought of the nice German couple I’d met earlier. “It’s a little late. Besides, don’t they have their own?”
Husband pulled the duvet around us. “They don’t speak English. And I’m pretty sure they don’t have a hot tub.”
I sat up. “They do speak English! I chatted with them when we arrived. And all the tents have their own hot tub.”
Husband closed his eyes. “Not those neighbors,” he said drowsily. “The other ones. If you want to talk to them, open up ‘Baboon’ on your translator app.”
The next morning our guide confirmed the sounds of our tent roof being used as a slide, the hot tub cover serving as a trampoline, and the deck furniture being put to use as musical chairs were compliments of our primate neighbors.
I checked. Alas, Google Translate doesn’t have a Baboon module. (Although I did find it funny—and apropos—the word for a group of baboons is congress. Yeah.)
My encounters with neighbors didn’t stop there…
Want to feel vulnerable? Sit naked in the Jacuzzi outside of your tent and have an hyena appear over the ridgeline and stare at you.
Want to feel ridiculous? Have that hyena be joined by several friends, who also stare at you.
Of course, they were laughing. Do you blame them?
