When Extraordinary Becomes Normal
You begin to lose perspective when Zambia becomes your normal.
It took a phone call with an old friend to snap me out of it. As I casually recounted the past few weeks, she paused and said, “Do you hear yourself? Your life is not normal.”
And then I really thought about it.
A quick recap.
My husband decided to swim across Lake Tanganyika, not a gentle dip, but a 15km relay swim in water that is, quite casually, home to hippos and crocodiles. Getting there involved flying up with a friend who happens to own a plane and is a pilot to boot, rather than enduring what would have been a three-to-four-day drive from Lusaka to Ndole Bay Lodge.
Two days after he got back, I left for Livingstone. For work, technically, but still Livingstone. Victoria Falls - one of those places people plan entire holidays around. I went for a conference, walked along the Falls, took a sunset boat cruise, and crossed into Zimbabwe to watch a friend tick off every adrenaline activity on the bridge: bungee jump, zipline, gorge swing.
All of that… in ten days.
In between, we were complaining about rushing from school pickup to polocrosse lessons. Yes - polocrosse lessons for a three-year-old.
It’s completely wild, and so far from what most people would call normal.
But it’s our normal now.
And like so many things, you adjust. Slowly, almost imperceptibly. You start measuring life by what’s next. Sitting at home on 3.5 acres of garden can feel almost too quiet, as though you should already be heading somewhere again -Kafue National Park, Lower Zambezi, another adventure waiting just over the horizon.
Perspective shifts quietly until someone from the outside reminds you just how extraordinary your ordinary has become.
Ndole Bay Lodge
After that phone call, my husband and I went for coffee… one of only three coffee spots within reach.
And for a moment, we let ourselves want something different.
Being able to go to the gym, grab a coffee, and do the grocery shopping all in one place, in under two hours. Not wondering whether the gas has run out, then driving 40 minutes only to find the supplier is out too. Not planning life around the next car service because every filter and moving part is slowly being claimed by dust. Not asking your mother to smuggle in olive oil and parmesan cheese because it’s absurdly expensive.
Just… ease.
Something simple.
And yet the irony isn’t lost on us. We didn’t stumble into this life. We chose it. We actively stepped away from easy and into something far less predictable.
We chose the wild.
And the wild gives generously, but never without asking something in return.
It comes with a cost, though not always a visible one. It sits in the constant background calculation: is this still the right life? Are these still the right trade-offs?
Some days the answer is an easy yes. It feels like the best decision we’ve ever made - this life of big skies, last-minute plans, and stories that sound slightly unbelievable when you say them out loud.
And other days…
On other days, I can see it so clearly: walking into work in high heels that never get scuffed or coated in orange dust, having the kind of disposable income that comes with a corporate job, and the incredible convenience of having all your groceries arriving at your door in under 60 minutes.
Ease, packaged and predictable.
And for a fleeting moment, it feels very appealing.
But then real life here interrupts that thought.
A reminder arrives, sometimes subtle, sometimes not at all. A day that only this place can produce. A story that makes you pause and think: this is a bit mad, actually.
Because this is a place of extremes.
And still, despite the dust, the complexity, the lack of convenience… we keep choosing it.
Because when extraordinary becomes normal, it’s easy to forget just how rare and how full it all is.
If you're looking for your next adventure, check out Ndole Bay Lodge. Their website has all the information you need on getting there. And if you don’t have a friend with a plane, they also list recommended places to stay along the way.
