Jollyboys has a nice laid back atmosphere and it is a favorite hang out for locals who work in the travel business.
Here you can play table tennis, shoot pool, watch soccer (futbol) or just enjoy a Castel beer which seems to be a local favorite.
I have made the switch and while at a table I am approached by a local to take his picture.
We join others at a nearby table and our conversation ranges from local and international politics to social and environmental issues.
Here I also meet a few foreigners that do volunteer work in Zambia. One or two of them have traveled over twelve hours by bus or hitch hiking to be in Livingstone. I am impressed by their contributions and love of Zambia.
It's Saturday Night in “The Big City” and I am not afraid to explore the Zambian nightlife. Major has appointed himself my guardian and when the time is right a group of us leave for Fezbar. About a fifteen minute walk from Jollyboys, Fezbar is a Mexican restaurant but with one interesting thing on it's menu, Crocodile Burgers. I order up but I am disappointed when the waiter returns a few minutes later to tell me they are sold out.
Major has never tried chicken wings so I place two orders for us to share along with his brother a local taxi driver. A Michael Jackson track has the place jumping and I try to convince Major to show me some Zambian moves. However, he needs Zambian music to do so.
For the past week there has been an International Participant Kayaking event on the Zambezi river. Knowing this helps to explain somewhat why I find myself witnessing a beer boot drinking contest. Then a strange thing happens, a Congo line starts to the sound of MJ's … “Don't Stop Til You Get Enough”. A first for me.
With a good sampling of Fez under our belt it's time to move on. This leads us to a higher end nightclub with a more local clientele and flavor. Major is moving like I have never seem him moved before. I do my best to try and pick up a few of his moves. The safe ones!
Another cab ride and we driving into the outskirts of Livingstone on poorly lit dusty bumpy roads passing through small neighborhoods and areas of huge vacant lands. I could never find my way back into town if I had to although I have no fear that it would ever be the case.
My nightlife experience in Livingstone has truly gone local as we visit bars that I am sure few outsiders have ever stepped foot in. Yet, I do not feel the least unwelcome. At one stop, our cab driver decides to have a beer and make me the designated driver. I accept the challenge as long as he is still going to be able to provide the directions.
If only I had worn my new powder blue shorts I would have been one cool color coordinated Designated Driver. MADD and GQ would have been totally proud.