A campsite in Namibia, somewhere...

A four-hour drive today, and we're somewhere near the Himba tribe. The campsite is slightly less basic, having very basic toilets and 'donkey' showers. Just had a spot of lunch, and I'm going to have a shower in a bit. So, last night...

Bjorn and Lisson had rather outdone themselves for dinner. We had garlic bread, hake with garlic and herbs or cheese and tomato, and 'gelmsquash' – a round pumpkin-type thing. He lead us about fifteen metres from the camp, into a clump of bushes, straight into the narrow entrance of an expansive cave. The cave had a 'hole' in the roof through which you could see the stars, they had a fire going in the middle, and candles wax'd to the walls. It was stunning.

After dinner, we attempted to toast marshmallows, thus birthing the legend of the 'Spitzkopf Marshmallow Masacre', while Lisson regailed us with a few traditional African stories. This may sound patronising, but Lisson, in a perhaps stereotypical way, comes across as 'authentic' – the 'real deal', if you like. He's from Zimbabwe, speaks with a thick accent, is very funny and always smiling. He's a great cook, and the stories he told, while simple and childishly moralistic, were mesmerising. He doesn't pitch a tent, perferring to sleep in the truck, and he always seems to be upbeat and smiling.

Some of the group slept on the top, in a crater, but I decided that might be a bit chilly, so elected to sleep in the cave, with eight others. I woke at seven and hiked to a good view point to see the sunrise on Spitzkopf, which glowed a deep ochre. It was a relatively good night's sleep, but I'm beginning to feel it now, and I need to catch up. I was quietly-irritated again, on the truck this morning, that people simply aren't stowing their stuff properly, making it hard to fit all our gear in the racks. Just takes a little thought, but some people are either clueless, selfish, or simply lack common sense.

(I, of course, am perfect).

Or maybe it's a language thing. As I mentioned, the Korean teacher and student – Darth Seoul and Darth Daewoo (there are always two: a master and a student) – have been particularly guilty of this, in my eyes. I had a weird conversation with the senior today when she basically accused me of stealing her beer. Well, that's unfair. In broken English, she said, 'I think you drink my beer'. After a bit of mime, and gesturing to various beers in the cooler, I managed to point out that I was drinking the Hanse, whereas she had 'Carling Black Label' (seriously). She did say sorry. All part of the experience, I suppose.

So, we're off to see the Himba tribe today. These are the much photographed semi-nomadic people you see in a lot of the brochures. They're basically naked (seeing the ankles as 'intimate'), and they cover their skin in a combination of butter-fat and ochre to give them a striking red appearance. Bjorn seems ambivalent about this part of the trip, and I have to agree with him. I struggle to take photos, interact, etc. with 'locals'. I think, while we're the very definition of 'tourists', no-one really wants to be a tourist. Ideally, you'd like to have stumbled on a village going about its everyday life, then perhaps be invited to come in. Visiting these places, that are clearly receiving people for profit, feels very contrived. It's irrevocably altering their culture, in the way that observing a particle will always alter its state. I guess the way to look at it is that it's a business transaction, and that everybody wins. It still doesn't sit well with me, though. I think that's how Bjorn feels, but he said he preferred to say little and let people draw their own conclusions. I think that says a lot in itself.