A love letter to Botswana

If there’s one place in Africa that made me feel like I had stepped off the map, like I was suspended somewhere between the edges of the wild and the edges of myself, it’s Botswana.

We recently spent a few weeks travelling across this extraordinary country, and from the very first morning, it was clear: Botswana doesn’t reveal itself all at once. It unfolds slowly, moment by moment, in the stillness, in the silence, in the space between sounds. And it’s in those quiet moments that something shifts. You begin to feel it, not just see it, and that’s when the love begins.

There is a wildness here that’s hard to explain. It’s not just the absence of people or fences or roads. It’s the scale of it all, vast, open landscapes that stretch into forever. Some days, it felt like we were the only ones out there. Just us, the bush, and the quiet hum of life all around. That raw, untouched feeling reminded me a little of the Serengeti, that same sense of endlessness, but here, the bush breathes differently. There’s more water, more vegetation, and with it, a softer kind of wild. It’s lush and layered, full of surprises.

One of those surprises came as we arrived at Selinda Explorers Camp. We stepped off the vehicle and immediately felt it, that deep sense of connection to the land. The camp felt as if it had been placed on the ground, not over it. There was no separation between us and the wilderness. It was raw and open, entirely immersive. We weren’t just observing the bush, we were in it. It was a reminder of what a safari once was, and still can be - authentic, honest, grounded.

Botswana is a place that touches all your senses. You feel the cool breath of morning air on your face as the sun rises across the Delta. You hear the soft trickle of water against the side of your mokoro, the gentle call of crickets, the occasional snort of a hippo. You see colours that shift with every hour, emerald reeds, copper sunsets and skies so wide they seem to swallow you whole. And often, the water mirrors it all back to you; calm and glassy, reflecting the sky like a painting stretched across the surface.

One of the most unforgettable perspectives we had was from above, flying over the Okavango Delta in a helicopter. From the air, it all comes together: the water channels twisting like veins through islands and floodplains, elephants moving in slow formation across open clearings, and hippos carving deliberate paths through the shallow channels. It’s both vast and intricate, like watching the entire Delta breathe beneath you. Seeing it that way gives you a sense of just how alive and connected everything is.

And then, just as easily, we slipped into stillness. Exploring the quiet water channels by mokoro, setting out from Sitatunga Private Island with our guide, Mulimi, leading the way. The experience was so gentle, so intimate, a complete contrast to the scale from above and the noise and speed of the outside world. As we glided through the reeds, he showed us the tiny details that are so often missed on a game drive. A reed frog no bigger than a fingernail, perfectly camouflaged in the green, and the delicate hanging nest of a zitting cisticola swaying in the breeze. It’s the kind of slow, attentive safari that makes you look at the wild in a whole new way.

Game drives here feel different too. The animals move to a rhythm shaped by water and weather. At Duba Plains, we watched lions, powerful and confident, hunting during the day. It’s something the guides there have been observing for years now, an adaptation to their wetland environment that contrasts so starkly with what we’re used to in South Africa, where most lion activity happens after dark. It’s behaviour that challenges everything you think you know, and that’s what makes it so thrilling.

And then there’s the community. The people. The warmth you feel from the moment you arrive. Botswana may feel wild and remote, but it’s never isolating. There’s a deep sense of togetherness that runs through every camp and lodge, every guide and staff member. At Daunara Safari Camp, we didn’t just feel like guests, we felt like family. Mornings were filled with easy laughter, quiet conversations over coffee, and that unspoken sense that you’re sharing something special with people who genuinely care. That kind of hospitality can’t be trained, it comes from the heart.

And that’s the thing about Botswana. It’s full of contrast. Stillness and energy. Water and dust. Isolation and connection. From the Selinda Spillway to the Makgadikgadi Pans, every corner feels like its own little universe.

There’s something about this place that lingers. Maybe it’s the wildness. Maybe it’s the way Botswana makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a rhythm much older than yourself. Or maybe it’s just that in a world that’s always loud and fast and full, this country offers something increasingly rare... Space to just be.

And once you’ve felt that, you understand. You understand why we keep coming back. And why, if you ever get the chance, you absolutely should go.