Sometimes you long for a time when vacation meant... vacation.
A time when there were no laptops. No Facebook updates. Not even basic human needs like the iPad.
Just you, your dame, your gin and the open Serengeti.
Welcome to Cottars Safari Service, a vintage African safari trek pulled straight from the '20s, taking reservations now.
Think of it like a time-capsule tour of the wilds of Kenya—not much has changed since the current owner's grandfather started running safaris here in 1919. Your tent is lit with oil lamps, your porter sports a red fez, and that soothing jazz wafting into the warm breeze is coming from a vintage gramophone. About the only clue that you're still in the 21st century is the modern massage tent tucked behind the mess hall. (You'll allow it.)
When you do hit the plains to see the lions take on the wildebeests, you'll go in a roofless wooden Land Rover with just binoculars, a spotter, a reformed poacher as your guide—and an 80-year-old elephant gun, in case Mufasa decides to get frisky. As the African sunlight wanes, you'll find the nearest bluff, pour out a few gin-and-tonics (we hear they ward off both malaria and sobriety) and start in on some appetizers—it's a tradition the locals call a "sundowner."
Hey, anything to ward off malaria.
A time when there were no laptops. No Facebook updates. Not even basic human needs like the iPad.
Just you, your dame, your gin and the open Serengeti.
Welcome to Cottars Safari Service, a vintage African safari trek pulled straight from the '20s, taking reservations now.
Think of it like a time-capsule tour of the wilds of Kenya—not much has changed since the current owner's grandfather started running safaris here in 1919. Your tent is lit with oil lamps, your porter sports a red fez, and that soothing jazz wafting into the warm breeze is coming from a vintage gramophone. About the only clue that you're still in the 21st century is the modern massage tent tucked behind the mess hall. (You'll allow it.)
When you do hit the plains to see the lions take on the wildebeests, you'll go in a roofless wooden Land Rover with just binoculars, a spotter, a reformed poacher as your guide—and an 80-year-old elephant gun, in case Mufasa decides to get frisky. As the African sunlight wanes, you'll find the nearest bluff, pour out a few gin-and-tonics (we hear they ward off both malaria and sobriety) and start in on some appetizers—it's a tradition the locals call a "sundowner."
Hey, anything to ward off malaria.
