Words can’t do justice to my heartbreak at leaving Zimbabwe, nor the existential crisis I’m battling on returning to my desk job in England. It’ll be a tricky series of blog posts to write for several reasons – we did so much, a lot of wonderful people were involved and there are so many details I’d like to include to capture the vibrant blend of colours, shapes, sounds and feelings I experienced throughout those two weeks (noting that some censorship will be necessary to preserve our collective dignity).

For context, our friend Reece invited six friends to stay with his family in Harare, Zimbabwe’s capital. Prior to this we knew very little about the country, but were keen to learn from the locals and excited to travel somewhere completely new. After last year’s trip to Morocco, this was only my second time outside of Europe despite a lifelong yearning for exploration and adventure – an era which I insist has just begun.

Wednesday 5 – Thursday 6 March

The journey: Hampshire to Harare

Reece joined Ryan and I on the coach to Heathrow at 4pm after negotiating a boxed-up bike into the luggage hold – a manoeuvre that was, from our vantage point at the back of the bus, both impressive and entertaining. Getting through the airport was remarkably straightforward (despite the bike) and we each wielded a Wetherspoons pint by 6:30pm. We boarded our nearly empty Rwandair plane at 7:30 for an 8:30 take-off and, being my first long-haul flight and my first experience of premium economy, I was amazed by the size of the thing and the glamour bestowed by individual TV screens, legroom and six-seat-wide rows. It was almost too much when the flight attendants brought round dinner and drinks.

Eight hours later we were served an early breakfast after much excitement and not much sleep, and once we’d broken through the cloud I lapped up the birds-eye view of Rwanda as it slid past the window. Clusters of huts scattered the landscape below us before giving way to tight, orderly rows of red-rooved houses as we approached Kigali, backed by vegetated hills that rolled in hazy layers all the way to the horizon. Green fields filled wide valleys and I felt quite naïve for anticipating a landscape of dust and sand.

We landed in Kigali at 7:30am local time (GMT +2) and quickly realised that we’d underestimated the already-rising heat. Thankfully the airport was cool, clean and quiet, but a little dull – its single café served us drinks until our busy connecting flight took off at 11:30. Again I stared out the window at a patchwork of red rooves, green fields, small reservoirs and the great Nyabarongo river, which meandered along the edge of the city like an autonomous brown snake, stretching endlessly into a haze that blurred the land into the sky.

The plane arrived in flat, sprawling Lusaka, Zambia, at 2pm and sat on the runway for half an hour to exchange passengers. When it took off I continued my close examination of Africa, which now consisted of green, shrubby plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. The outskirts of Harare appeared just after 3pm and scattered settlements soon condensed into tightly packed streets of shoebox-like houses, which is the last thing I remember before we landed at around 3:30.

Having somehow qualified for the diplomats’ queue, Ryan and I paid $55 for our visas, collected our bags and found Reece talking his way (rightfully, and eloquently as ever) out of paying to bring the bike into the country.

First impressions

Shelley and Bryn (Reece’s mum and brother) kindly met us at the airport and drove us back to the house, which was an experience in itself. The roads seemed utterly hectic: rights of way ranged from ambiguous to non-existent, peddlars chanced their luck between streams of slow-moving traffic, cars squeezed past each other with millimetres to spare and there was barely a road marking in sight. I quickly realised that UK driving is tedious. Apart from this chaos, my main observation was of Harare’s greenness and abundance of trees and bright flowers, which seemed to spring up everywhere in sporadic blooms of orange and yellow.

We arrived at Reece’s family home in a leafy suburb and were given a very warm welcome. We met ze German friends, Isabelle and Tilman, Paul (dad) and Kieran (uncle). We now constituted a merry group of nine, plus Charlie (anti-social parrot), Boston and Roxy (very social dogs). We settled into our comfortable bedroom, changed out of our long sleeves and boots, then spent the afternoon acquainting ourselves with our new friends and our accommodation, which included a fully stocked bar, pool, much-loved dartboard, beautiful garden and a round table that would become a familiar hub for food, drink, games and excellent company. I felt at home immediately.

That evening Reece’s friend arrived to collect his bike, Shelley cooked celery chicken (a spectacular family recipe) and taught us how to play killer, the darts game that would endure throughout the trip, an African deluge fell from the sky like the heavens had opened and we had a jolly good time getting to know each other. Zimbabwe had exceeded our expectations from day one.