Goodbye Namibia, Hello Botswana, England are rubbish at football

A bit of a lie-in this morning – up at seven. I – and most of the others – seem to be suffering from what, I suppose, you could call 'tent lag'. That is, we're so used to going to bed around nine, then up at 5am, it's difficult to kick the habit. Pancakes for breakfast, though, so that was something. We paused in town for a spot of shopping, and I headed to the camera shop. After the woman there managed to confirm they didn't have the same model as I'd broken, I asked her about the Canon EOS 450D – an 'entry level' SLR – whereuon she went and got her boss, who was much more knowledgable (eg he'd held a camera before, and didn't think of it as 'the magic box that makes pictures'). To cut a long story short, I've paid a bit over the odds and am now the owner of a brand new SLR together with the 'kit' lens that comes with it, and a 70-300mm zoom lens. I haven't dared to work out the total cost, but I get to claim the tax back, etc. Having spent the money, though, I'm in a good mood. 'You rarely regret spending more on something, but you often regret spending less', said a friend once (when I bought a minidisc player, actually), and I think that's true. The only downside is the size means I now look like a 'photographer' (or, at least, a 'wannabe'). Having this thing dangling round my neck ain't subtle.

So, another long drive today, with me mainly preoccupied with my camera instruction manual. Christine sat next to me so Radda could sit behind her and I was treated to the slightly surreal sight of three girls braiding hair right next to me. It was about four hours to the Botswana border, and we passed imigration without incident – although I filled in forms to claim back the tax – not sure when that'll get sorted. 'Africa time', so maybe in two years? Oh yes, the immigration guy...

'So, Euro 2008. England aren't there. What happened?' Brilliant.

It was another good few hours to the camp in Botswana. Again, it's pretty cool, and totally different to any other camp so far. It's sandy, with a few buildings, a stage area and a big fireplace. There's a rooved observation deck from which you can see the waterhole, and on which a few people are sleeping tonight. The first time I saw this was when, as I came back from plugging my camera battery in, I was greeted by my german tent-mate, grinning like a schoolboy. I grabbed the tent and followed him. He took me up to the deck and pointed out that Bjorn hadn't objected to us pitching there. So I'm sitting in a tent, in a '1st floor' raised shed, overlooking the waterhole. Nice one. Some animals came to the waterhole, and I tried to take some photos, but fully 'telephoto'd', and in the fading light, they were very blurred. Clearly this camera is a more sensitive beast than a compact. Heidi, standing beside me and seeing my blurred photos, said, 'Ah, you need to use a different setting.' This was the first time on the trip I was literally lost for words.

We had some local bushmen come and dance for us tonight. Vaguely interesting, although they'd do a dance, shuffling round the fire with a cacophany of yells and shouts, then the head man would explain what the next dance was for, before repeating what appeared to be exactly the same dance. Bjorn, I'm learning, is cynical of these cultural interactions – 'Aren't they just repeating the same thing?', he whispered, before serving the food while they were dancing, saying, 'They're forty-five minutes late and everyone's hungry'. It was interesting seeing the various reactions from everyone afterwards. A few of them had 'Western' boxer shorts on, and they'd arrived by truck. A couple of people felt that that had spoilt it a little, seeing as they weren't 'authentic'. For me, though, it made it all the more realistic. It makes total sense to me that people would make use of anything to make their life more comfortable. It would have felt more contrived if they'd hastily hidden all their European paraphanalia before they performed.

Oh yes, technology has failed me again. My watch has gone wonky. I never wear a watch in the UK, since I have the time on my phone, but I've been wearing my Polar HRM watch over here. It still works, but it's now impossible to change anything, so we're now in Botswana and I can't put my watch forward an hour. Africa and electronics don't mix.