Starvation, Aids, and Robert Mugabe . . . lately, Zimbabwe has hardly sounded like a great tourist destination.
Sarah and I were meant to have continued our African travels with another organised tour through Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe.
However, unbeknown to us, this had been cancelled due to a lack of tourist bookings.
So, with our flight not due to leave Victoria Falls for another week, we were now looking at a week left to our own devices.
ATM machines were everywhere but hadn't worked for more than seven years, and credit-card facilities were non-existent.
Fortunately, Sarah had withdrawn $US150 in neighbouring Zambia.
We stayed three nights at a camp ground in the heart of Victoria Falls town.
It was obvious this had once been a bustling tourist haven, thriving on "the smoke that thunders", as the falls are known.
Many shops lay vacant and vandalised, and food stores were bare.
There's only so much to do in Victoria Falls without any cash, even though it is a beautiful spot, a few locals suggested catching the train down to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe's second-largest city.
For $US4 we boarded our first-class cabin as it got dark and we immediately locked up the windows and doors, and began to settle in for the night.
We were the only tourists and the only white people.
Black Zimbabweans had crammed themselves in, there was no glass in the windows - the carriages were falling apart, just like Bulawayo, it would seem.
This was a former Rhodesia Rail train and it was easy to imagine how luxurious it would have been in its day.
But the fittings were now rotting, cockroaches roamed freely and there was a slight odour in the air.
The train stopped frequently during the night
About 16 hours later, we were still making the 450km journey to Bulawayo.
Soon, we began to enter the industrial territory of Bulawayo.
We were busting for the loo because we had been hesitant to leave our cabin during the night.
Rubbish filled the streets, grand hotels had lost their beauty, and there was a constant smell of urine.
It was easy to imagine that this had been a beautiful city once, but with no maintenance it had lost most of its charm.
The traffic lights didn't work and the roads were riddled with potholes.
Robert Mugabe propaganda was everywhere.
We couldn't see a single tourist and according to the tourist operators we met, we were the first in six months.
But without any cash, we couldn't do any of the activities on offer.
After two nights in Bulawayo, Sarah and I decided to head back to Victoria Falls.
We paid US$6 to ensure we got the best seats on the train.
We were to share a cabin with two black Zimbabwean women, who were surprised to see two young white females.
They offered us bananas and hot chips - the only food they could afford.
I buried myself in my sleeping bag and didn't look up for 14 hours, by which time we were approaching Victoria Falls. I felt a sense of relief to be back.
