Where Do We Go From Here?

3/10/05. Karonga, Malawi.

I meet another overland truck at the last petrol stop in Tanzania. Expectations go guts-up - they're enthusiastic and friendly! Wow!

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Kuche Kuche, at 3.7% ABV, is an all-day-long beer along the lines of Senegal's Gazelle, and similarly priced at 30p for half a litre. Slurp. Someone in Zanzibar told me that a packet of fags in the UK is now over 5 quid. Jayzuz.

The beach at Karonga ain't all that. The naked Malawian women bathing in the lake are upwards of 25 stone (each), so the next morning I push on for Chitimba.
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4/10/05. Chitimba Beach, Malawi.

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Me & Roy. Drunk.

The beach campsite is run by Roy, a lunatic and splendid chap from SA, and the lovely Adila from England. There are exactly two things to do here;
1. Swim in the lake.
2. Drink beer.
So I stay for 6 days. The moto gets a mini-service, and I get to read a book* by Maureen Lipman, which has me grinding my teeth and muttering swearwords by page 5. One night some fat boys arrive and dress up as ladies. You know - for fun.

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Oh come on - it's just a bit of fun!

It's the kind of place you could accidentally spend a month, but there's a lot to see in Malawi so eventually I head off for the internet cafes and ATMs of Mzuzu.

*You Can Read Me Like A Book. Geddit? It's a book! D'you see?
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9/10/05. Mzuzu, Malawi.

No beach here, but there is a place called Mzoozoozoo where you can stay in a 1970's beige caravan. It's very Terry & June/Carry On Camping except that there's no rain or mud.

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Plenty of amusing people pass through as one night becomes three. The owners, Gerrard (Swiss) and Jennifer (American), are as keen on drinksh as I am, and nights in the bar are lively experiments in how many times we can listen to Exile On Main Street in a row, and how often Gerrard will let me and Jennifer listen to Neil Young without assaulting us.
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12/10/05. Nkhata Bay, Malawi.

The bar at Mayoka Village, a campsite/hotel built into a cliff on the lake, has got to make it into the Top 5 Bars In Africa list. Great food, a good mix of tourists and locals (usually shouting chummy abuse at eachother over the pool table), and Lake Malawi where one might normally expect a wall. Seven more nights slip by.
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19/10/05. Selima, Malawi.

I stop in Nkhotakota at 2pm thinking I might have a night here in the cheapish-looking motel on the main street, and discover they're charging $20 US for a room. So I order some slightly bloody chicken and slightly underdone chips and scoot for Selima, in easy reach of Lilongwe, where I find an equally cheap looking place for $4.
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