VICTORIA FALLS, Zimbabwe

Our return to Zimbabwe brought a day of firsts:

• Riding an elephant through the bush
• Petting a lion
• Eating under the Southern Cross
• Following a man with a Rifle

As we sat around our Boma table slurping impala stew and listening to a cacophony of insects jabbering under the star speckled Zimbabwean sky I felt as if we were the sole peoples on a problem-free planet. On the drive back to the Victoria Falls Hotel I weaved the threads of this night tightly into my consciousness in anticipation of a conjurable memory to transport me to a primitive place far, far away from New York and immune to hurry and stress.

I'm writing this on the back lawn of the hotel gazing out at the "smoke that thunders" rising up in the cool morning air as cars pause crossing the old train bridge that links Zim to Zambia while drivers glimpse the magnitude of The Falls. Upon arrival this afternoon Joan and I set out on the path to The Falls. At the crossroads to the Gorges view we met up with a rifle-armed guard who offered to accompany us to the Gorges. A few steps down the path we encountered cape buffalo and realized the rifle was in case of animals, not people.

At the overlook of the Gorges there was a primitive outpost with several men lounging in what looked like an outback watering hole, though there were no half-empty bottles behind the bar. As we peered over the edge we saw elaborate cables facilitating zipping across the gorges. In a country where spare parts are virtually impossible to obtain, the thought of strapping on a harness and flying into the depths aroused little temptation. Besides, knowing we were scheduled to come into close contact with elephants and lions was enough of a thrill for one day. Maybe we'll take the plunge tomorrow!