First thing we were at the tourist office to buy our train ticket, but a slight hiccup, the train is booked out. Change of plan, we'll drive to Zimbabwe, but a phone call to Avis also put paid to that plan, no Avis rentals are to cross the Zimbabwe border. Frustration, so more discussions with the lovely tourist girl led to a 1.15am bus being booked from Pietersburg South Africa, across the border to Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. As we were leaving she asked how we were getting to Pietersburg, we answered by our hire car via the most direct route. She said that would be R37 but absolutely would not be recommended as it was a resettlement area.

When we checked our map it transpired that any other route would be quite complicated and much longer. Given we wanted to arrive in Pietersburg in good time for the bus we decided to take R37 despite the warning, it couldn't be that bad could it? We set off to find ourselves travelling through about 100 km of squatters camps, while the people were clean and well dressed, they took a great interest in us as we passed. There were no proper buildings and business was conducted mostly under trees or in the open. We saw a beast hung and being butchered from one tree and a car with its motor on a block and tackle hanging from another tree. While we did not perceive any danger we did not stop either.

On arrival at Pietersburg we located where the bus was to leave from, then returned the car to the Avis office. We could have waited for the bus at the take-a-way but it looked a little seedy so we decided we would take a room and get some shut eye. We checked several nearby motels but all were booked out, then we checked the Travellers Rest Motel right across from the bus stop. It looked a little expensive but would be convenient at 1.15am. The Afrikaans owner at first said he had no rooms but when he found we were leaving that night he decided he had a room at their guest house and would take us and also arrange a taxi to pick us up at 12.30am. Excellent.

Off we went, and were a little concerned when the nearby guest house was about two km away in a down trodden residential area. We unloaded and the manager spoke to a local women and we were shown to our room. Later when Avan had woken from a fitful sleep, nervous we would not hear the taxi, he could hear loud snoring. Getting up and investigating he discovered the women asleep in the lounge. The penny dropped, we had been sold her room, and she had been kicked out.

We snuck outside with our luggage to wait for the taxi, however when the promised time had come and gone we started to stress. To make matters worse the streets outside were quite busy with locals standing around with fires burning in drums. This was August so pretty cold. We were now locked out of the house so on a recce Avan spotted a Freemasons type club with lights on at the end of the street, and keeping out of sight as much as possible, ducked into the foyer and explained our plight about the taxi. The chap looked a bit funny and said he was not surprised a taxi had not come since they did not have any in town, but he offered to ring his cousin to come and drive us to the bus. Great!

Avan ducked back and we lugged our stuff up to the club still trying to be inconspicuous, but the cousin did not arrive. Back inside we asked the reception guy where he was, so he rang again, and informed us his cousin had come but we were not out the front so he went home, he would come again. A while later a beat up old car cruised past and then turned around and started to head off. Heather decided it must be our man and ran out onto the road to stop him, and Avan took the luggage around to the boot. Heather explained our plight in regards to getting to the bus and that it was now past departure time, and got in. No problem, this guy was enthusiastic and off he drove, one small problem, Avan was still putting luggage in the boot and was left standing in the street. Finally Heather gets him to come back and we take off, fast. Then we spot a bus heading our way so our guy cuts in front and stops it, leans out to enquire if it was the Bulawayo bus, no. Another km another bus, and a repeat procedure, no wrong bus.

We make it to the bus station in one piece but our nerves are shot, convinced the bus is long gone. We enquire at the ticket office and were told the bus has not arrived 'the Bulawayo bus is always late'. but just then our bus pulls in, the driver asks our names and checks his manifest 'Sorry you are not on here', our faces must have said it all!!. The bus driver a jolly black man says " I said you were not on my list, I didn't say you couldn't come on my bus, find a seat'. There are only two seats left and not together, and we've got a 10 hour journey ahead. Heather sat next to a white English girl who flies helicopters in Nigeria, while Avan sat next to women from Swaziland, this was going to be a long trip, and we've already been tested to the max, but we are on our way to Bulawayo.