DAY 177: Exchange rates are a funny thing for the US Dollar. Unless you are transferring money into British pounds -- after of which the Brits will make fun of you for "how embarrassingly low the dollar is these days" -- exchanging good ol' American greenbacks into other currencies can be a somewhat gratifying experience, particularly in a country like Zambia. With the rate of $1 USD = ZK4765, for just about $210, yes you too can be a millionaire! (Please don't share this secret with Publishers' Clearing House.)

THE FIVE-DAY EASTER WEEKEND WAS FINALLY OVER and by 7:45 a.m. the banks in town were finally open with teller service -- good news for Zambian trying to make their usual transactions, and even better news for tourists with Mastercard-based ATM cards that had been stuck all weekend with little to no cash.

After waiting on line about ten minutes, I had a teller at the local Barclay's Bank charge $300 USD off my Mastercard credit card, so that I could get cash for it in the local Zambian kwacha. After waiting about an hour for telephone approvals, I finally got the local currency in cash in a nice wad that looked like Monopoly money with animals on it (picture above). Total amount: ZK1,420,500.

I was suddenly a millionaire.

MY FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS with my new financial status was paying off old debts. I walked over to Fawlty Towers Backpackers to pay my ZK11,000 debt off to Juliana for paying my transports from the border to Livingstone. (I left a note for her the day I left her that I'd pay her when the banks opened.) However, when I asked for her in reception, the guy said she had already left the day before with her friends.

Oh well, I thought. She must not have cared too much about the payback because she was probably a millionaire too. And really, what's a measly 11,000?

I went on my way and finally got some internet time in since I finally had some cash to pay for it. After that I skipped the Jolly Boys' "budget breakfast" and splurged at a place called the Insomnia Club, just off the main strip. Despite having the name that implies coffee shop, it was a nightclub/lounge; people were mopping up from the night before. The barman served me an egg breakfast though and I ate it while watching an MTV video marathon of fellow millionaire P. Diddy.

FOR MOST OF THE DAY, this millionaire finished catching up on Blog duties on his Apple iBook, editing stories, sorting out photos. Shelle and Deann came back from their safari in Botswana that morning, and Shelle was scolding herself for spending money on wooden sculptures that she really didn't want -- she couldn't resist a poor street vendor.

"I have money to pay you back now," I told her. "How much do I owe you?"

Shelle looked up in mid-thought, the way one does when doing math in one's head. The ballpark figure was around 70,000-80,000.

"How about I give you a hundred thousand?"

Her eyes lit up. "Okay!"

I passed over two 50,000 kwacha notes. Really, what's 100,000 amongst friends?

SHELLE AND DEANN BROUGHT ME TO THE BUS TICKET OFFICE so I could get on the next morning bus to Lusaka with them, and after we walked down the main strip to the curio (souvenir) shops. Shelle bought a ceramic hippo soap dish holder and Deann bought some homemade postcards from a kid on the street. After a brief internet session -- I discovered internet cafes, like most stores in Zambia, close at sundown -- the three of us went to Ocean Basket, the South African seafood chain restaurant, a fairly upscale sort of place for the budget backpacker, unless of course, one of them is a millionaire.

Indecisive on what to get, I just got it all: a seafood platter with a little bit of everything, all for just ZK75,000! The staff must have caught the bling bling vibe off of us because when Deann asked to have cake and ice cream as a starter, they didn't give the usual "Ha ha ha, that's funny, but what do you really want?" -- instead, they just gave her what she wanted as eccentric as it was. In fact, not once, not twice, but four times they came over to ask the obligatory, "How is everything?"

THAT NIGHT BACK AT JOLLY BOYS, I paid off my lodging package with a measly ZK175,000. When I looked over my remaining money, I realized that I had spent so much local currency that I was now under the million kwacha mark. I was no longer a millionaire, but at least it was fun until it lasted.