Safari tourists are a peculiar strain of humanity—a traveling tribe of eccentric wizards conjuring awkward magic wherever they roam. They look different, they behave differently, and they dress... well, as if they were extras in a low-budget jungle movie the likes of Jumanji. Take Germans, for example. Spotting them in the wild is like identifying a rare bird: distinctive, consistent, and somewhat bemusing. For starters, Germans do not laugh. Ever. Laughter is apparently a frivolity reserved for less disciplined nations. At best, they might permit themselves a restrained chuckle—if, and only if, they are certain no one is watching. Otherwise, they retreat to the privacy of their basement for such an unseemly display of emotion. Even then, these events are as rare as a polar bear in the Serengeti.
Their wardrobe is another dead giveaway. Germans aren’t just encouraged to dress the part of the adventurous traveler—they are mandated by law. You see, no German is permitted to leave the country without at least three items of Jack Wolfskin apparel and a khaki slouch hat that makes them look like a colonial administrator who misplaced their empire. Passport control officers are rigorously trained to spot this and will deny departure to anyone who fails the style test.
This is why, uniquely in Germany, duty-free shops stock a vast array of oddly coloured outdoor gear emblazoned with that little wolf paw logo. You’d think they were dressing for a polar expedition, not a guided tour of the Maasai Mara where the most exertion they'll face is lifting a gin and a tonic.
And the masterpiece—magnum opus? The reporter vest. Yes, by decree of the German pension authority, any citizen over the age of 50 must don a beige or grey vest with a perplexing number of pockets. No one knows what all the pockets are for—perhaps carrying emergency schnitzel or an instruction manual for their binoculars—but failure to comply results in the immediate forfeiture of state pension benefits.
It’s a curious thing, really. Germans may not laugh much, but they do provide endless amusement for everyone else.
An opening excerpt from What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Chronicles of Chaos and Courage remains available here. The full book can be ordered here.
🔥 BOTTOM OF THE FOOD CHAIN — SAFARI EDITION🔥
Welcome to Governor’s Campground, Maasai Mara, 2012 — where the only thing louder than the hyenas was the global parade of fashion‑criminal tourists roaming free without supervision.
Here’s where it all began:
Nicole.
A tent that leaked dignity.
A Land Rover held together by hope, duct tape, and the ghosts of British engineering.
And me — attempting survival among safari tourists who dressed like rejected extras from Jumanji 3: Bureaucrats of Doom.
Germans marched in with their mandatory Jack Wolfskin uniforms and fifty‑pocket vests designed for carrying schnitzel and self‑doubt.
Americans arrived shouting at the wildlife as if volume counted as a survival skill, wrapped in dung‑coloured Patagonia drapery that looked like it escaped from a compost bin.
The Brits burned like napalm in the sun.
The French smoked enough to fumigate the entire Serengeti.
And there we were.
A tent. A Land Rover.
No plan.
No backup.
Only the creeping realization that the animals weren’t the problem.
The tourists were.
🧨 From “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” — a memoir for the derailed, the feral, and anyone who has ever considered strangling a safari influencer with their own GoPro strap.
🔥 THE IDIOT IN HIS NATURAL HABITAT🔥
Some men pose with a passport. Others with a purpose.
I came armed with a Bowie knife, three open water bottles, and a glovebox full of delusions.
Welcome to the inside of my Maasai Mara command center — the Land Rover from hell, where survival tools include duct tape, despair, and expired almonds.
Yes, that’s me, Marcel Romdane — safari dropout, chaos pilot, and the only man dumb enough to think “how hard can it be?” applies to both wildlife conservation and amateur machete diplomacy.
📍 Maasai Mara, Kenya, 2012
🎒 Mission: Unclear
🧨 Mental State: Actively combusting
I wasn’t just “off the beaten path.”
I bulldozed it, set it on fire, and used the ashes to season my breakfast.
From the book: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when arrogance, aviation, and African bush logistics collide — spoiler alert: this.
⚰️ LIMITED PRE-EDITION — GET IT BEFORE THE REGRET
🔥 Grab the pre-edition of “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” and own the literary equivalent of a flaming survival log.