Right then, fancy a bit of a posh wildlife bash? Picture this: a three day Chobe fly in safari. Not your average mud smeared Land Rover affair, mind you. We’re talking pure, unadulterated, blow your own trumpet kind of luxury. Forget the dodgy camping gear and the lukewarm coffee; this is safari as it should be experienced, preferably with a gin and tonic in hand. So, you arrive, not by bouncing along a dusty track, but by hopping into a tiny plane that whisks you away from civilization. Suddenly, you’re soaring over the vast Botswana landscape, looking like you own the place, which, for the next few days, you sort of do. Landing at your exclusive lodge feels less like an arrival and more like stepping into a very chic, very wild garden party. Your accommodation? Think private plunge pools overlooking watering holes, staff who anticipate your every whim before you even know you have one, and beds so comfortable you’ll seriously consider hibernating. My own particular indulgence was the outdoor shower. Nothing quite beats being serenaded by the distant roar of a lion while you’re lathering up. A tad unnerving at first, I’ll admit, but then I remembered my champagne cooler was conveniently located just outside. Priorities, you see. The main event, of course, is the wildlife. And in Chobe, they don’t do things by halves. We’re talking elephants. So many elephants, you’ll wonder if they’ve cornered the market. Herds of them, splashing in the river, munching on trees, generally being magnificent beasts. Our guide, a chap named Themba who possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of all things furry and feathery, was frankly brilliant. He could spot a leopard at a hundred paces, which is more than I can say for my car keys on a good day. Game drives are conducted in open top vehicles, naturally, so you’re right in the thick of it. But again, this isn’t a jostling for position situation. It’s intimate. You might find yourself sharing your sundowner with a herd of zebras, who are surprisingly good conversationalists, if a bit hoof happy. One afternoon, a particularly curious giraffe stuck its head right into our vehicle. I’m pretty sure it was judging my hat. I felt the need to offer it a canapé, which Themba kindly advised against. Apparently, it’s a one way ticket to indigestion for both parties. Evenings are spent back at the lodge, feasting on gourmet meals under a canopy of stars so bright you’ll feel like you’re starring in your own nature documentary. The silence, punctuated only by the calls of the wild, is profound. It makes you reflect on things, you know? Like, how did I ever live without someone ironing my pyjamas? Or the sheer, unadulterated joy of not having to cook after a day of being incredibly pampered. This Chobe fly in safari is less about roughing it and more about being utterly spoiled. It’s a chance to reconnect with nature, yes, but also to reconnect with yourself, preferably with a cocktail in hand and a sense of profound well being. If you’ve ever dreamt of a safari that feels like a five star holiday with a wild twist, this is it. Just don’t forget your fancy sunhat; the giraffes are watching.