Of Chameleons, Crocs and Hungry Hungry Hippos

Fulfilling everyone's safari dream expectations, our merry American gang drove onwards to St. Lucia, a veritable wetland of wildlife.

St. Lucia skyline taken in while sipping on Pimms and lemonade sundowner.

Just before our nighttime game drive, a Hippo was spotted across the street from our backpackers, simply indulging in some evening grazing. Everyone abandoned their dinners to witness the spectacle. After a meal of undercooked but nicely spiced chicken, we proceeded onto a night drive where our guide was so sharp, he spotted a tiny chameleon hanging out on a bush. As you can see from the size of that thing, our guide must've eaten a lot carrots as a child or had really good glasses prescription. And of course, more hippos. Sorry no compelling pictures because if I got close enough, I would've been eaten alive. No joke, those hippos are notorious for their animosity against overly curious and idiotic humans.

Is Culture Club appropriate here?

Seriously, St. Lucia should just be renamed Land of Many Hippos. Because not only did we see a ton of 'em lumbering about the marshes, but the next morning four of us went kayaking just past a pod of 13 happy hippos. We also circled some islands where crocs hang out. We were perilously close, but our guide Themba, with whom i happily shared a kayak, seemed unperturbed. It is likely that given his history as a poacher, he was not easily scared. But now a naturalist of sorts, Themba intrdepidly handled a leaky, nearly sunk boat that Emily K. and some Stellenbosch kid had been paddling with great effort.

Crocs +Hippos=NO SWIMMING, genius.

We also spent a bit of time marveling at the eco-diversity. Yeah, not the diversity I'm studying, but interesting nonetheless. There was beach too--quite lovely.

St. Lucia's Angels: and their clothing even coordinates with the colors of the beach.

And then these cool trees that had the most unusual proliferation of some unidentified fruit(?).

Bearing strange fruit

These really spiky acacias talk to each other, basically sending some sort of plant signal when they're being munched on so that they will secrete a bitter flavor to ward off unwanted herbivores.

What a prick!

Speaking of omnivores, that night I enjoyed a lovely impala stew--don't knock the vertebral meat 'til you've tried it--and some roasted marshmallows. But don't try eating them together. One course at a time please.

And even though the power went out at our backpackers, the Zulu singing group and the roaring fire lit up the night.