Bag theft epidemic at Atlanta Airport carousel

A road warrior self-portrait taken in a hotel mirror

A road warrior self-portrait taken in a hotel mirror

Atlanta Airport Police tell a business traveler that luggage theft from the carousel is currently an “epidemic” and “out of control.” The busines-traveler-victim plays detective and reports on the untenable shituation at Atlanta Airport baggage claim:

I was traveling on a two week business trip on a direct flight from San Antonio (SAT) to Atlanta (ATL). I travel domestically about 60% or 70% of the year, often through Atlanta as it is a major airport. This was, however, my first trip traveling to Atlanta as my destination city—on August 19, 2012.

Upon arrival, my commute to baggage claim was confusing. Like any airport, it required a lot of walking, but just when I assumed I had reached baggage claim, there was a subway that I was required to board. The subway was packed. It made at least 4 stops, each time pausing long enough for people to come and go. By the time I finally reached the baggage carousel, bags were just pouring out onto the carousel. None of the other passengers had reached it yet. We were the first! Judging by how the carousel wasn’t even completely filled up yet around the circular metal belt that rotated around, it looked like my business associates and I had arrived a few minutes late at the most. I distinctly recall all of my colleague’s bags just barely coming out for the first time as we stood there waiting. My bags never came out.

I didn’t realize it at the moment, but I was the victim of luggage theft with losses of about $3000. I waited in a long line where people wait in order to determine whether their bags were mixed up and stored in a back holding room for luggage, but the airline staff continued to reassure me that my bags were not back there. When she scanned my bag tag, it said that the last place it had reached was the baggage carousel.

In that moment, I was convinced that someone had come and stolen the luggage before the passengers arrived to the carousel! I looked around the baggage claim area, and the entire place looked suspicious and insecure! There were so many people standing far away looking to have absolutely no legitimate business there, just loitering off of the streets with their jeans sagged down to their knees.

I desperately tried to convince Delta, as well as the airport police, that my luggage was stolen! I knew it was, but nobody would listen. Everyone was as rude as could be, saying things like “you don’t know what you’re talking about. Some one probably mixed it up with theirs.” I knew that wasn’t the case. I had a unique Tumi duffel bag* that I’ve never seen anyone else traveling with. The police, Delta baggage staff, and the TSA were as apathetic as could be. I couldn’t even convince them to look into it, or consider the possibility that it was stolen!

What a nightmare! My bag had two weeks full of business attire, fitness attire, shoes (size 15 which are difficult to find), and prescription medication. I was at Walmart at 2:00AM trying to buy stuff just to wear the next day!

That’s when things got interesting! I began doing some research, convinced my boss to fly me home the following weekend where I had pictures of my 30″ Tumi duffel bag and receipts of all my stolen items. When I flew back to Atlanta to finish the second week of my trip, I persisted with the airport police, showing them pictures of what my bag looks like and documentation supporting the likelihood of my bag being stolen!

First what happened was that the airport police officer who was working at the front desk openly admitted to me that right now they have an “epidemic” (her words) of bag thefts in the baggage claim area of the Atlanta airport. She said, “Just between us, it’s out of control. We’re seeing guys like you come in here every day.”

I finally got through to a police investigator the next day who was on the phone with me as he discovered exactly what happened from looking at the surveillance video footage from the night in question. A black guy in a Kangol golf hat purposely worn low walked in. The detective said, “I can tell he knows what he’s doing”, in reference to how he wore his hat low and kept his head down the whole time. He said he knows that he is a thief because he was purposely standing far away from the carousel, not the way that people stand when they’re legitimately arriving to pick up their luggage. He said he showed up before ANY of the passengers reached the carousel, and then kept he eying my bag which was one of the first ones to come out. Keeping his distance, he waited until the bag rotated the whole way around the carousel until it was closest to his exit. Then he darted in, grabbing it, and taking off before ANYBODY even got there!

The detective openly admitted to me that they’re grabbing bags before people arrive. He said once they reach the building exit to the baggage claim, it’s a total loss and they don’t pursue it any further, no cameras, no investigation, nothing!

I believe that the Atlanta airport has a severe security hole. The thieves are aware of the timing issue where bags beat passengers to the carousels. They know just how easy it is to walk into the Atlanta airport with stolen luggage! They know that they have about 50 feet to walk towards the exit, then they’re scott-free because nobody will even look into it once they’re outside.

The airport is in a really horrible part of town. The baggage claim area is in a place where outsiders can walk in without authorization. After talking with the detective on the phone, I distinctly remember seeing other people walking around the parameter of the baggage claim building, looking around, but there was nothing I could do!

Nobody would help me. One week later, after I finally convinced the investigator to look into the problem, it was too late. I was accurate in my assumptions all along, but it was too late. That thief stole a lot of my clothes. The investigators have a video of the whole thing. They even printed out some pictures for me, but I could never pick them up because the investigator wasn’t present on my way to catch a flight home.

So that is my story. I just don’t know what to do right now because not enough people are aware of this bad security problem. I’ve already emailed the police chief of the airport precinct. I may eventually be reimbursed down the road, but the issue of them not pursuing bag thieves who shark luggage before passengers arrive is underexposed. I was hoping that perhaps by exposing it to more and more people, it will make them obligated to address the problem.

—Jacob

*About his luggage, Jacob added “It’s a wonderful bag–the 30″ long black duffel bag by Tumi. The entire shell is of a soft, extra durable canvas material. What I love about it so much is that I could pack 14 pairs of pants and shirts with still room left for shopping, and the bag itself hardly weighs anything.

Tumi Alpha duffel

Tumi Alpha duffel

“Sadly, I’m torn on the decision to purchase my favorite Tumi bag again. The detective who eventually detected the luggage thief on the surveillance video sternly warned me that these thieves are targeting specific brands, and he said that they know exactly what they’re looking for. He said something like this, “On this day it was your Tumi. The day before it was a Louis Vuitton.” I said, “Yeah well he’d get a lot more for that Louis Vuitton than my used $700 bag.” The detective replied, “They don’t care about the bag. They care about what’s in the bag.” That was my big reality check. What would you do if you were me? Buy the bag I lost, or avoid it as a security precaution?”

The fact that the bag is black makes it a target.

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Barcelona bag-snatch and the lucky victims

Carrer de Ferran, Barcelona

Carrer de Ferran, Barcelona

Barcelona police are eager to report a theft when they catch the thief and return the victim’s property—if the following story is any indication. Makes the statistics look good! Boosts police reputation, too! This just in from Pia, a German woman visiting Barcelona for the first time. For once, a story with a happy ending.

Something similar to those stories [on the Thiefhunters' Barcelona Scams page] happened to me & my friend just yesterday. It was on our first trip to Barcelona & of course we’d been warned that there are a lot pickpockets around.

We went out to have dinner at Port Olímpic, had a lot of Sangria & were just about to return to our hotel at around 2.30. At a bus station on ‘Carrer d’Álaba’ two guys walked toward us. One of them seemed to be drunk, they chatted & laughed. The other one had already passed us when the first slender one blocked my way. He was smirking & didn’t let me pass by. Instead he suddenly started touching my breasts & I immediately knew we were surrounded. I tried to get him off & started running around the bus station to escape. My friend was so shocked she stood almost petrified on the sidewalk. In a split second the one harassing me ran off down the street when in the very same moment I heard my friend yell in shock & scream “Let go of my purse!”

The first man had tried to catch our attention so the other one had the chance to grab whatever we carried along!

We both followed him as fast as we could when he ran off into the opposite direction & around the corner. While my friend was wearing heels, I had taken mine off before all had started so I was faster but still too slow to catch up. (I now doubt that I would’ve had a chance against him if I had been faster. )

Just in this very moment (everything was happening so fast!) I heard another man yell something about the ‘bolso’ & saw a huge guy follow the thief. When I finally got around the second corner, the big one was holding my friend’s purse, talking fiercely to the other one. For a moment I thought they were partners but then I glimpsed the gun on the tall guy’s belt & saw him grabbing the thief at the wrist, pushing him up against the wall, telling me to stay ‘al forno’. He’d been a undercover cop!

About a minute later 2 police cars pulled up & one of the officers arrested the thief, handcuffs & all that!

My friend had finally caught up with the scene & the tall cop handed her the purse.

They asked us for names & IDs & reported the attack. Of course we were shaking all over & 2 of the police officers drove us back to the hotel, making sure we were okay & got back safe.

La Rambla, Barcelona

La Rambla, Barcelona

We had SO much luck, it’s unbelievable! Nothing was stolen & we got away with no more than a real shock. It’s really unbelievable how easily you can be a victim of crime, especially when you’re a female.?We couldn’t have prevented this from happening, that’s what the police told us, too. Those thieves were just too strong, my friend couldn’t have held on to her bag any tighter. I think it is scary to know you’re not safe anywhere from scams & attacks, not even 100m from your hotel.
But we were so very lucky to have someone help us!

God bless those brave policemen & god bless those amazingly fast & long legs of the guy who saved us! ;)

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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A pickpocket cab scam

Tim Hopkins and his father

Traveler Tim Hopkins reports on an “ingenious cab-theft scam.”

Lessons learned, disaster averted

I recently purchased two copies of your book, one for me, and one for my father. We had planned a trip to Africa, and after reading the book, I wanted to be ready! I had purchased a PacSafe Wallet Safe, with a zippered opening, and a pretty strong chain. While in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, we were victims of a cab-theft scam that was ingenious! The hotel had arranged a cab for us, and when he dropped us off at the restaurant, we exchanged cell numbers, and tested them. He said to call for our ride home, and left.

After dinner, we called him, and he said he’s be there in 5 minutes. Exactly five minutes later, another similar cab (they are all very dilapidated and patched-up) shows up, and flags us to come get in. Dad asked the driver if he had been sent for us, and of course he said, “yes, yes, come on!”, so we got in. As he started to roll away, he asked us where we wanted to go. I realized he wasn’t our guy, and told him to pull over and let us out. He said, “no problem”, and pulled over. Small problem, though—he had removed the inside door handles! I tried to get the door open, as did Dad from the back seat—and the guy starts to reach across my lap (I am in the front seat), pulling on some wires he had rigged in the door, yelling “push, push!,” and causing quite a fuss. He “couldn’t get it open,” and had me sit more forward, hollering and fussing, and pushing, and slid down behind me to work the door. “Push, push!” “I am pushing!,” jostle, fuss, fuss, yell—quite a scene in that little cab! Finally the door pops open, and I pop out. Dad didn’t wait for his turn, and came over the front seat and out. The guy shut the door, and took off. I reach behind me, and no wallet! Just a dangling chain, broken or cut about halfway down!

Fortunately, I had followed your advice, and this was a ‘disposable’ travel wallet, with around $100.00 worth of local money, two of my four cards, and a license; mostly very replaceable stuff. Essentially it was his to steal, and he got it! The beauty of it was that for a hundred bucks and three phone calls, I got a combat lesson in what “the fuss” feels like. We were both astounded at how we had prepared, yet were still unable to recognize the escalation of the situation. This has let to our adopting some new policies!

    1. Use only verified cabs. We should have waited for the driver, specifically.
    2. When traveling together, we always get in the cab one at a time, and the first one looks it over. Especially for door handles!
    3. We should recognize “the fuss,” and when it starts, should both say “stop, lets settle down a second here,” and reassess.
    4. Splitting up travel wallets is mandatory, and works when all else fails. 

I also bought a Pacsafe DuffelSafe and Pacsafe backpack, which are both slash-resistant, and lockable (also with a cable for securing to an object). These were both great for the hotel and when leaving bags in the car for things like shopping or our safari.

Thanks again—you have a fascinating job.
Happy travels!
Tim and Don Hopkins

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Mugged in Mumbai

Cruise director Paul McFarland

Cruise director Paul McFarland

“I WANT,” is the driving force behind mugging: need and greed. But these muggers in India also had intangible desires that compelled them to behave in a way that surprised their victim. After a recent visit to Mumbai, my friend Paul McFarland, a cruise director, filed his report.

Thanking Muggers

After years of travel there are a few places that I still get excited to visit. Mumbai, India is one of them.

After a delicious meal at the Khyber restaurant, I waited for a taxi outside. I planned to go to Victoria Station, the train station in downtown Mumbai, to take photos of the beautiful building and the colorful people.

A black and yellow taxi pulled up, reminding me of a bumblebee; not so much because of the color but because of its size. It took me some time to fold my 6′ 3″ frame into the back of the vintage vehicle, and I was no sooner in when the driver hastily sped off. We quickly reached top speed and began cutting and slashing through the traffic. I felt like a bag of rice being thrown from side to side. Fortunately my outstretched arms could reach each side of the vehicle and that alone kept me upright.

The driver sensed my discomfort and asked if I liked Indian music—as if that would soothe me. I didn’t want to set him off by saying no, so I nodded. Big mistake. His voice sounded like a snake charmer’s flute as he sang, and he let go of the steering wheel, wildly waving his arms as if he were a classical dancer. All the while he was driving faster and faster, narrowly missing ox carts, cars, and pedestrians. I finally screamed at him to slow down, whereupon he glanced at me in disbelief and started to sing his song slower. The good news is that I arrived at Victoria Station in record time. Little did I know this was just the start of my adventure.

I got out of the taxi much quicker than I got in—so happy I had arrived safely that I gladly overpaid him by 200 rupees. I had plenty of money with me as I planned on giving a few rupees to some of the people as a thank you for allowing me to take their pictures.

Mumbai fruitwalla near Victoria Station

Mumbai fruitwalla near Victoria Station

Victoria Station loomed large across the busy intersection and beckoned to me to photograph its architectural beauty.

On the way I stopped every few feet to photograph the colorful, happy people at the markets that had sprung up on the streets surrounding the station. They were selling everything: from watermelon with slices of fresh pineapple chilled with melting blocks of ice, to scraps of material, to cheap padlocks. Because my camera was new I was concentrating on the viewfinder, focused solely on my photography. I wandered freely throughout the crowded market and, even though I was by myself, I felt very safe. I’ve enjoyed many wonderful visits to this exotic and exciting country without any incidents and had no reason to believe today would be any different.

Even though I didn’t buy anything, the street vendors seemed to enjoy having me look at their items. I think it added some credibility to their card-table stores. I weaved my way through the vendors and crossed the street to capture a good panoramic view of Victoria Station. As I walked along a roadside barrier, I kept my eye on the building.

I didn’t notice a taxi approach me from the opposite direction. It pulled to a stop right next to me and two young men got out. At the same time someone tapped me on my shoulder. As I turned to see who it was, the two men from the taxi immediately dropped down in front of me, grabbing and wrapping themselves around each leg.

My first thought was, my God these beggars are a lot more aggressive than they used to be; but at the same time two men jumped on my back, one holding onto my left arm and the other one going for my backpack which contained more camera equipment. Another one wrapped his arms around my waist. I must be watching too much of the Discovery Channel because I remember thinking: I’m like a wildebeest on the Serengeti being pulled down by a pack of jackals. Even though the wildebeest is much stronger, the jackals can bring him down through perseverance.

I staggered forward wearing five young men. Then it occurred to me that they weren’t trying to hurt me, they were just trying to detain me long enough to pick my pockets. Within seconds I reached for my wallet but it was it was already gone. This enraged me and I tossed two of the young men to the ground. But I noticed at the same time that one of the boys was running from the scene dodging traffic as quickly as his flip-flops would allow. His hasty departure told me he was the one with my wallet.

I tried to pursue him, but there were still three thugs hanging onto my legs and waist. I was able to quickly rid myself of the young man around my waist but I had to use my camera as a hammer to get rid of the human leg irons. They were no match for the Nikon D300 and dropped off. Then I was free to pursue the thief with my wallet.

I ran across the four lanes of traffic yelling stop thief at the top of my lungs, hoping to gain attention and support from the many locals in the area. But he had already made it to the other side of the road and had merged with the millions of Indians at the Sunday market. My heart sank, knowing that my chances of ever seeing him or my wallet again were nil.

Sidewalk barbers in Bombay

Sidewalk barbers in Bombay

I wandered through the market, carefully scrutinizing every face I saw. After about ten minutes, realizing my search was futile, I headed back to the road. I now looked suspiciously at the same people, and now their beauty and innocence were gone. I was sad about that. Little did I know that there was still more to my adventure.

The black and yellow bumblebee taxis were all lined up looking for fares, but not necessarily looking for me because, in this part of town, few of the drivers spoke English. In these situations, rather than asking drivers if they speak English I ask “Did it snow last night?” if they say “yes, no problem,” I know we’d have a problem if I got in that taxi.

After quizzing eight to ten drivers, I found one I thought understood my destination. I was relieved that I had remembered before leaving the ship to stash some cash in other pockets in case of just such an emergency. I climbed into the taxi and he took off in the direction of my ship, giving me confidence that I had made the right choice.

We’d been on the road for three or four minutes, giving me time to organize my thoughts and do a mental inventory of what was in my wallet and what steps I was going to have to take when I got back to the ship. I realized that the wallet contained three credit cards, my drivers license, my PADI dive card I’d had since 1976, and $250 cash.

My concentration was interrupted when suddenly another taxi pulled up next to us with two young men in the back seat yelling at my driver. My driver tried to ignore them at first, but eventually was forced to the side of the road by the other taxi. I couldn’t believe it was happening again, and I braced myself for another attack. I thought: the bastards know I have more money because I got in a taxi and they’re after every penny.

I gripped my Nikon for action as the two young men jumped out and quickly threw something in the back window that landed on my lap. Thinking the worst, I threw myself out of its path—only to discover that it was my wallet. To say I was surprised to see it is an understatement. I opened it and realized that my credit cards and everything but my money was intact.

As they fled, I was so relieved, I blurted out the window, “thank you,” as if they were India’s version of Robin Hood. I thought: you’ve really lost it now—thanking muggers! My taxi driver smiled at me, and we once again took off for the port. On the ride I double and triple check my wallet, thinking it was too good to be true to have thieves go to the effort to track me down. Why had they chosen me to attack, and then why in the world would they take the chance of being caught by returning it?

Musicians in Colaba, a Bombay neighborhood

Musicians in Colaba, a Bombay neighborhood

I wasn’t sure if my driver knew that I’d been mugged when I got in the taxi, but I was pretty sure he figured it out. So I asked him why they returned my wallet and he gave me in a one-word reply: Karma. I remembered reading that in the Hindu and Buddhist religions Karma is most important and is based on actions or deeds. The thieves initially created very bad Karma for themselves, but by returning my wallet perhaps they hoped to balance it out with a good deed.

Once back at the port I told the ship’s agent about the incident and he asked me to describe the attackers. I told him that there were six or seven of them, and that they were all about 5′ 6″ to 5′ 7″ with dark hair and dark complexions. I added what I thought would be a helpful detail, remembering that they all wore flip-flops. He seemed amused, and I embarrassingly realized that I had just described not only my attackers, but probably five million other young men in the city. I quickly added that one of them might have a unique imprint on his forehead—that of a 28 x 200mm Nikon lens.

Bottom line: I lost $250 but that’s not what I’ll miss the most. I’ll miss feeling safe in a city I still love.

*
The photos of Mumbai are mine. Paul’s are probably much better!
…¢ For more on muggers, read

“How I mug,” as told by two muggers in Panama

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Street crime in Buenos Aires

Pianist Stephen Kane

Pianist Stephen Kane

When my friend, Stephen Kane, described what he witnessed on a recent afternoon in Buenos Aires, I begged him to write it down for me. Following is his account.

Bad action in Buenos Aires

Prior to my first visit to Buenos Aires I was warned about the mustard/ketchup gag. As you’re walking, carrying a shoulder bag, someone sneaks behind you and squirts mustard or ketchup on your back. The accomplice later offers to help you clean it off. You remove the bag from your shoulder to do that and then it disappears along with the thief. So I felt particularly foolish when it almost immediately happened to me. I noticed I had been squirted but just kept holding my bag tightly and walking until I was safely out of the area. I have been back to Argentina many times and, thankfully, have never been threatened with robbery again.

So I suppose I was due for one particularly eventful day. I wasn’t the victim but the witness of two different scenes.

I was having Saturday lunch in a cafe on the corner of Corrientes and Florida. I was sitting at the window and had a very clear view of the crowd of people and traffic at the intersection. If I hadn’t been looking in the right direction I’d have never seen it happen. It was much too fast; so fast that nobody nearby realized it had happened until it was over. A tall, beautifully dressed girl was standing with her boyfriend waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street. Mixed into the traffic speeding down Corrientes was a large motorcycle carrying two men. The cycle suddenly stopped right in front of her and the man on back jumped off. He grabbed the girl from behind, putting one of his hands over her mouth to keep her from screaming. With the other hand he grabbed her necklaces and purse. By the time she was able to even make a sound and alert her boyfriend the thief was back on the cycle with his accomplice and speeding away in escape. But the event wasn’t finished. Someone standing nearby actually did see the robbery and managed to capture a picture of the thieves on a cellphone camera. I watched as they all summoned a policeman and showed him the photo of the cyclists. Of course, during the discussion that followed, the victims were much more animated than the policeman. After pleading with him for several minutes they eventually gave up and went on their way. So did the crowd. So did the policeman.

Petter, a thief in Lima, told us that one member of his team always carries a knife.

Petter, a thief in Lima, told us that one member of his team always carries a knife.

After lunch I walked a few blocks down Florida and turned into a small, uncrowded side street. I noticed a commotion in Continue reading

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African safari

A vulture smells death.

A vulture smells death.

Just back from safari in South Africa—21 of us on a family trip. My sister Shari wrote this report:

We’re driving along a dirt road at Mala Mala and our ranger says…”smell that?” No. was our answer. We kept driving and then saw vultures. He smelled death again. Then we see a hyena. Just one. We follow it off road in the jeep. It doesn’t even care. Eventually it lays down in the tall grass as though it’s saying ok, that’s enough. I’m not going to lead you to MY food. By then the smell is intolerable. Some of us thought it was the fact that we were parked in a grove of rhino shit. But our guide said that’s the least of it. It was definitely carcass.

Seven or eight hyenas fought over this meal of buffalo.

Seven or eight hyenas fought over this meal of buffalo.

We keep driving in our land rover, just mowing down trees. We stop and shut down the engine. Our ranger says, “hear that.” No. was our answer. He follows the sound and stops again. “Hear that. They’re chewing and ripping.” Yes! we hear it. He keeps on going and eventually finds a small covered cove where three hyenas are chowing down on a buffalo carcass. It’s evening. The light is getting dim. We’re snapping photos, videotaping and even using flash. Then one jumps up and away. And we hear all kinds of hyena growling and howling. Another hyena wanted to join the feast, but there is a ritual, and the newcomer has to ask permission. We stayed quite awhile for a bit more action, more of the pack joining, and a little scuffle, etc. Amazing…and stinky.
 

More than a dozen lions frolic after dark, and don't mind being in the spotlight.

More than a dozen lions frolic after dark, and don't mind being in the spotlight.

We then drive to an open meadow where a pride of lions are lounging. By now is pitch black. We drive right up to them. We’re in an open jeep. We’re in a wide open meadow. We are among at least two mothers, one father, seven cubs and five teens. It is DARK. We shine spotlights right on them. They lounge, they wrestle. But they weren’t hungry. They never left to hunt, but it was great to see, to be right among them. We were just four yards from some of them.
 

A magnificent lion at Mala Mala.

A magnificent lion at Mala Mala.

Last night we arrived in Singita, our new place. It was a 15 minute plane ride, and the topography is completely different. We are in a privately run portion of Kruger National Park. This portion is many thousands of acres that are only accessible to the lodge guests (which is only our group of 21 family members.) However, although privately managed, they still have to follow some of the National Park’s rules and we are not as free to just hightail it off road any time we please. They are only allowed off-road to track ”the big five.”  Kruger National Park is the size of Massachusetts.
 

The sound of hippos was a constant backdrop. More than one is a raft.

The sound of hippos was a constant backdrop. More than one is a raft.

We stopped at the side of the dirt road and took a short walk to the end of some craggy rocks on the edge of a green river filled with hippos. At least 17. We could have watched them do their hippo thing…which is nothing…for hours. I caught one with it’s mouth wide open. I hope it’s not blurry. They’re surprisingly, loudly, vocal (and we hear them all night from our rooms above the river). Later that night, on our way back to the lodge, we saw two hippos out of the water. They look like giant pigs. They’re shy. They ran away fairly quickly. We felt lucky to see them, because they’re in water most of the time.
 

Glass box aerie has an outdoor shower and netted bed on back deck.

Glass box aerie has an outdoor shower and netted bed on back deck.

This lodge is amazing. You should look it up! We’re in Singita at Lebombo lodge. The entire place is built on stilts above ground, and can be completely dismantled and taken away in 30 days, leaving only a few patches of bare ground. Not to piss you off, but it’s one of the top in world. We count ourselves lucky—very lucky—to be here.
©copyright 2000-2009. All rights reserved. Bambi Vincent

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