So . . . THIS is what they mean by "frontier town"

     In preparation for the trip, I did a little internet research about the town of Maun, which was the place in Botswana that I was scheduled to land.  The first thing of interest I learned was that Maun is pronounced mah-oooon, not rhyming with "fawn," as I had assumed.  That's a start!  Also, I found that Maun was frequently referred to as "a frontier town."
     Now, that's an expression you don't hear very often.  My mind conjured up "Davy!  Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier" and I thought they meant that Maun was out in the boonies, so to speak.  But what I learned when I was getting there is that it meant that Maun is sort of on a BOUNDARY between relatively civilized territory and relatively wild territory.  
     A native Botswanan gentleman I was sitting next to on the plane between Johannesburg and Maun told me that the Maun airport is one of the busiest in Africa--that is, if you're counting numbers of take-offs and landings and not if you're counting number of passengers coming and going.  There are loads of private planes at the Maun airport, continuously taking people into the deeper recesses of the continent, those areas that are pretty much inaccessible except by plane.  Maun serves as a prime location for getting started on safaris, apparently.   He also told me that the paved road that goes all the way to Gabarone is still quite the innovation.  He remembered when there were only dirt roads in and out of Maun.
     With all this pleasant (and useful!) information, the trip between the two African cities took no time at all.  The airport was unencumbered by those "jet bridge" things that normally sanitize your exit from a commercial flight, so we walked out into the bright sunshine, where I was immediately struck by a pleasantly pungent scent.  I encountered this smell several times in the weeks to come but never did learn what it was--must have some kind of tree or bush that smelt sort of lemony-sagey.  Very nice!

     My seat-mate friend obviously made the trip often, and he chivalrously guided me through customs.  I surely could have managed on my own, but he knew everybody and made it that much easier.  So, in just a few minutes, my passport was stamped, and I had my 90-day tourist visa, I found my bags, and there I was:  Maun International Airport!!
      The very first airport I've visited where burros, cattle, goats, and dogs wandered at their leisure.  It felt very friendly!