Starting relatively early today. Gorgeous scenery from Rustenburg north via Pilanesberg. Luckily no rain today. We can feel our butts though, oh yes, we can. 500 km on the little Vespa is no afternoon tea get-together. We pass some mining towns on the way. The garage attendant in the iron ore town of Thabazimbi can't believe the 140 km limit on the scooter's dashboard. We wish! 80 km/h is the average we manage. Either one of us jogs along, or we'll just have to make do with that.
First police check once we get to Limpopo.
The nice gentleman in a uniform is not taking us very seriously. "Where IS your vehicle?" he asks. He eventually lets us go, shaking his head off.
Crossing into Botswana is a pretty straightforward affair... until: "What? An Italy-registered scooter?" We get sent back to the line behind all the truckers... hoping that someone will finally decide how much in road tax, insurance and who knows what else we really need to pay.
An hour later, we're finally off again. But by now it's late and we have to break our vow never to drive by dark. Somewhere in the middle between the border and the town of Palapye -- Botswana is not very generous with its road signs -- the Vespa stops and refuses to start. Tired already??? Here we are. in the middle of nowhere, in a country where animals supposedly are EVERYWHERE, and our only mode of transport refuses to co-operate. (But the sky littered with stars is truly amazing...) We give it another shot and, luckily, the vroom vroom sound is there again. Halleluja! We don't ask question, don't want to know why or how, for now we just want to move. Once in Palapye, the guy at the campsite laughs his head off looking at our two wheeler. Even poses in front so he can show around. We're just happy we can collapse. It was a VERY long day.
Botswana here we are!!!
First police check once we get to Limpopo.
The nice gentleman in a uniform is not taking us very seriously. "Where IS your vehicle?" he asks. He eventually lets us go, shaking his head off.
Crossing into Botswana is a pretty straightforward affair... until: "What? An Italy-registered scooter?" We get sent back to the line behind all the truckers... hoping that someone will finally decide how much in road tax, insurance and who knows what else we really need to pay.
An hour later, we're finally off again. But by now it's late and we have to break our vow never to drive by dark. Somewhere in the middle between the border and the town of Palapye -- Botswana is not very generous with its road signs -- the Vespa stops and refuses to start. Tired already??? Here we are. in the middle of nowhere, in a country where animals supposedly are EVERYWHERE, and our only mode of transport refuses to co-operate. (But the sky littered with stars is truly amazing...) We give it another shot and, luckily, the vroom vroom sound is there again. Halleluja! We don't ask question, don't want to know why or how, for now we just want to move. Once in Palapye, the guy at the campsite laughs his head off looking at our two wheeler. Even poses in front so he can show around. We're just happy we can collapse. It was a VERY long day.
Botswana here we are!!!
You go girl. Take the Vespa to Italy and relive the scenes from the movie "Roman Holiday".
ReplyDeleteJon H