“There he is, the King himself.”

I leaned forward, eyes scanning the horizon. We had just entered the Serengeti, driving along a dusty gravel road that cut through the seemingly endless plains. And here, believe me, "endless" is literally endless. There is nothing on the horizon, just grass plains that continue into eternity.

I had seen lions before, but only from a distance or through binoculars, and only lionesses. But then, there he was: a male lion walking peacefully in the grass next to the road. The King himself. It was a brief encounter, as he looked around, gave a slow yawn, laid down in the grass, and disappeared. But to me, it was wonderful. I know, of course, that a safari can never provide guarantees, and I couldn’t know then that he was the first of many I would have the privilege to see that day.

Later, we encountered three male lions relaxing on the bank of a stream. They were three brothers, resting after a night of hunting, patrolling, and protecting their territory.

We stopped the car just a few meters away. The first thing that struck me was their size; they were larger than I had imagined. They looked very peaceful, almost gentle, and it was really hard to believe that they would probably rip us to pieces if we had left the car.

They were just lying there and didn't mind us or the other cars that had gathered. They moved occasionally, stretched, and tried to find the optimal position. Nothing but the best for the King during his afternoon nap.

And then, there was their gaze. Those eyes. They are truly majestic. They radiate an absolute authority, and they seem to contain wisdom as endless as the plains they reign over.

I sat down in the car and opened the side window to get a better camera angle.

One of them turned his head and looked at me. Not just a glance; he wasn’t simply screening the surroundings. He looked me in the eyes. Or at least, that is how it felt. This staring competition was definitely not an easy win. He locked eyes with me without blinking, and it quickly became a little intimidating.

I remembered a lesson from a childhood book: never stare directly into the eyes of a strange dog, as it can be perceived as an act of aggression. Is it the same for lions? I had no idea. I know that as long as we are inside a car, the animals - including the lions - will not see us as individuals; they see the car as one big object. But still, they must obviously see that there are pairs of eyes in there, staring back at them? Those intense eyes seemed to suggest he was aware of the life behind that steel container.

I have no idea how lions see the world, or if he saw me as potential prey or as a curiosity from another species. Regardless, I was the one who lost the staring contest that afternoon on the Serengeti plains. I looked away, and quietly, I closed the window again, just in case.

And that actually felt like how it's supposed to be. After all, he is the King. The monarch of the plains. We are just visitors, granted a brief audience in his kingdom.