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The lion sleeps tonight – awumba whey

Selous Game Reserve, Tanzania

4 September 2013

Trundle down the rails overnight to Kisiki station. Travel
on open safari jeeps through the village. Plenty of children waving at us as
they go to school and we go to Selous Game Reserve along rough dirt track
roads. Shake, rattle and roll is the theme for today. Once inside the park the
jeep roof is raised to afford better views and at least we can now stretch our
legs enroute. Spend the next 4-5hrs driving along bumpy dirt tracks looking for wildlife.
Don’t have a tracker so it’s wandering around aimlessly hoping for the best. On
a previous game drive in South Africa we had a proper guide and tracker with
animals around every corner but on this particular drive it’s a good hour
before we see anything of note and that’s a solitary giraffe a mile away.

We are the cheeky boys

We are the cheeky boys.

 

Pit stop at Selous’s grave – he being killed in action by
animals rather than warfare. The only toilets are behind a bush.

Another few hours of driving around but this time we do see
more interesting animals. The highlight is 3 lions and a lioness. We’re up
close and personal about 10ft away. They’re lying down cooling off in the
shade. It’s too hot even for them to think about killing anything. Quick picnic
lunch by a lake all laid out on the bonnets of the jeep. Some other tour group
in the distance are fine dining with tables and chairs which all seems very
civilised. Glad to stretch legs though.

Back in the jeeps for another 4hrs of game drive but after
an hour of being bounced about in cramped conditions without really seeing
anything the consensus is we’ve had enough and instruct driver to return to the
train as we’ve all done much better game drives before. It takes a further 1.5hrs to reach the train such is the terrain.

Never has a cold beer been needed so much.

Gridlock

Dar es Salaam, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

3 September 2013

Meet fellow travellers. There are 32 of us. Mix of South African, Australian, Canadian, American, British, Portuguese, Brasilian, Dutch and ze Germans. It’s like a meeting of the United Nations.

Day trip to Bagamayo. It’s only 70km away so won’t take long. Ho ho ho. It takes 2.5-3hrs. Most of the time is spent sitting in the gridlock that is Dar Es Salam. Stationary in Salam. Travel through the city centre and out the other side along the coast road stopping for the Presidential car to pass. Once out of the city it’s open country roads and speed along good quality metalled roads.

Arriving at Bagamayo old fort after all that time we’re all dying for the loo.

Boat builders

Boat builders

 

Glad I’m a bloke as the toilets are a hole in the floor and disgusting. There’s a hose pipe dripping water into a blue plastic drum like the sort you find on building sites next to cement mixers. That’s for washing your hands. There’s lots of cries from the women along the lines of “has anyone got any tissues or wet wipes?”.

Walk through the German cemetery and along the beach. The locals looking bemused at a group of white people in varying types of dress ambling through their manor.

The fish market further up the coast is a real native affair. An auction is under way for the catch of the day. A boat is a few yards out from the beach chucking yellow plastic containers into the sea. These are then collected by locals who race up the beach and deposit them at a lorry for onward distribution. It’s cooking oil from Zanzibar.

Lunch at a beach resort and told it will be two minutes for the buffet to be laid out.

Dishwasher

Dishwasher

 

It takes 1hr. And then it’s stone cold. Ridiculous. It’s one redeeming feature being that it has clean toilets – even if a door is missing from one cubicle.

Just over 3hrs to drive back to Dar Es Salam. 2hrs of which is stuck in traffic where we only manage 5km. We’re sitting ducks for the street sellers who offer the usual snacks and drinks. One seller is trying to flog vehicle related stuff like warning triangles, car mats, wipers etc. We have no need for a warning triangle but do indulge in packs of cashew nuts.

Our bus is the Commonwealth bus full of Canadians, Brits and Australians and we’re having a bit of fun. Pull up alongside ze German bus and zey are very serious looking.

Fed up of sitting in traffic a few of us jump out to stretch our legs and walk with the intention that the bus will pick us up when it reaches us. Walked about 20m when the traffic clears and the bus drives off into the distance. It’s another kilometre before we meet the bus the other side of the intersection. Seemed like a good idea at the time but it’s too hot to be doing anything strenuous. Arrive at the station and have to do the same as last night – cross in front of the stationary oncoming traffic. Which takes another age.

Train pulls out from Dar Es Salam station during dinner. We’ll be rocking and a rolling all the way to Victoria Falls.

2 minutes

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

2 September 2013

Woken in the early hours by the muezzin from the many mosques that surround the hotel. One of the mosques has an air raid type wail. It’s sunni not shia (or vice versa).

Woken again in the early hours by very heavy rain. Which lasts a matter of minutes. This is repeated a couple more times over the next half hour.

Not much sleep.

Wander through the alleyways of Stone Town to the former Slave Market. A church’s altar now marks the spot of the old whipping post. Slave monument is adjacent. Consists of a pit with five slaves shackled with chains. The school is busy with the chatter of excited school children.

Home sweet home

Home sweet home

 

Stand in the doorway to peak inside the classroom. The children’s backs are to me but one soon realises there’s a white giant in the doorway and they all turn about to giggle and wave. Teacher is not amused. Disrupting class again. Somethings never change. External walls painted with upper and lower case letters of the alphabet with pictures of various objects. Young boy is having to write on the blackboard with chalk. Not seen a blackboard and chalk since I was at school. Chalk was often used as a missile by a certain teacher back then.

Sit in a cafe for a drink and watch the world go by. Locals pull up on their mopeds and grab a quick breakfast before chugging off again. Couple of young lads sitting in cafe next door busy working. One is peeling spuds from a large sack, chopping them into chips then deep frying in a pan of boiling oil over a charcoal fire. His mate is de-scaling small fish and gutting them.

Rooftop gardens

Rooftop gardens

 

Everyone relaxed and friendly.

Great deliberately getting lost in the alleyways and exploring. All the doors are big heavy wooden things intricately carved with brass knobs and spikes which I’m told are to protect against elephants. Not convinced there’ll be any elephants thin enough to stomp down these narrow alleys though.

Arrive at Jaws Corner. Full of locals meeting and drinking coffee from the sole seller in the corner. In the middle a palm tree with an old 80s style telephone handset and a short rickety wooden ladder about 3ft long running up to it. The whole set up being about 10ft off the ground. The sign says you can make free international calls from the phone…..if you can reach it. Despite my height, I can’t do an ET and phone home.

Find Freddie Mercury’s old apartment block.

Stone Town

Stone Town

 

It’s a bit bohemian and can’t stay for long as I want to break free as the show must go on. Don’t groan….it’s free….

Late afternoon flight to Dar Es Salam. Walk into aiport but stopped by security. He wants to see ticket. Don’t have ticket as booked online. It’s an email confirmation. Told to get a printed ticket from the ZanAir office two steps to his left. ZanAir office print out a booking confirmation on A4 paper which is folded into thirds to look vaguely ticket shape. Hand vaguely ticket shaped paper to security who checks it and allows me to pass.

ZanAir check in desk is basically a cabinet. The weigh scales are one of those old fashioned big dial scales that you see in markets of old. Boarding pass is handwritten. Any checked in bags are dumped on the floor behind for manual collection by porters.

Bypass the departure tax window and immgration as flying domestic. Bag is X-rayed and after all the airports I’ve been flying through the past few weeks with bottles of water etc I find my water bottle confiscated on security grounds. There is absolutely no common arrangement with this rule.

Aircraft is a flying coffin. Can tap pilot on shoulder and ask him the time it’s that small.

Starting young

Starting young

 

It’s about 15 seats and we skim across the water at 2,500ft before descending into Dar Es Salam. Great view of the landing over pilot’s shoulder.

It’s now 1800hrs. Am to be met by transfer for the cruise train. Rail station is 5 miles away so a matter of minutes transfer. Except no one there to meet and greet. Ask taxi manager if he’s seen the Shongololo transfer. He makes a phone call and told it’s just left and will be returning. 1815hrs ask how long it will be. He makes another phone call and I am put on to speak to the guy at the other end. Told he’s at the International terminal picking up other guests and will be 2 minutes before he arrives at Domestic terminal. 30 minutes pass. Patience is a virtue but not tonight. Tired, hot and hungry. Taxi manager rings bloke again and phone is handed over. He’s still waiting for guests at International and Shongololo have sent another transfer to pick me up at Domestic. How long? 8 minutes. Hmmm. 1900hrs and still no transfer. Sod this for a game of soldiers. It’s now dark and taxi drivers are few and far between now that domestic arrivals have dried up. Find a taxi driver to take me to the rail station. It’s only 5 miles away so will only take 5 mins won’t it.

It takes 45mins stuck in traffic. Unbelievable gridlock. Horrendous traffic jam.

Typical wooden door

Typical wooden door

 

Have to turn right at a major intersection then turn right again after a few hundred yards into the oncoming traffic which is stationary. Driver negotiates with lorry driver that he’ll let taxi through when things start moving. Sit there for 15mins waiting for a gap. Wonder how far station is? Taxi driver motions with hand over hand and says, “1….2…3…4….5…6”. So. Is that 6 streets, kilometres, blocks, what? Decide to stay in car.

A minute gap appears in the oncoming traffic and driver gingerly makes his way across the two lanes of traffic which is actually four lanes given the non adherence to the Highway Code by the locals. In front is a mass of darkness and a large metal gate which is opened by a security guard when the driver pips his horn. Presume this is a short cut across some industrial area. Can just make out a very large building to my left but it’s pitch black. Driver tells me this is the station. You what? It’s not exactly St Pancras is it. Are you sure this is the TAZARA station? There are no lights on. It’s like something out of Scooby Doo. Assured this is the station. It becomes clear he actually meant 6 steps away. Drive across some waste ground to the large building and see that it is the station. All the doors are locked. A large blackboard with chalk writing confirms that Friday 30-Aug-13 departure is cancelled. It’s the once a week departure south. Glad I didn’t book that or I would be stuffed.

There’s a solitary light on across the cavernous hall with a security man sitting on a plastic chair. Doors are hammered and shaken to attract his attention and he motions that we’re to go to the side. Finally some sign of life. Can make out a train with lights on. A lad in baggy jeans, t-shirt and stupid baseball hat remonstrates with driver that he’s not allowed to drive down here. Sod that sunshine I want a cold beer. A brief argument between lad and driver ensues. Young lad with baseball cap is apparently a policeman. Hmmm. He escorts me to the train. At last. It’s now 1945hrs. So much for 2 minutes.

So here I am. On board the Shongololo Express on the Dr Livingstone tour. Shall be travelling from Dar Es Salam to Victoria Falls over the course of the next 12 days. It’s a private cruise train with dining car, bar & lounge car, ensuite cabins. It’s the original 1952 heritage carriages from Rhodesian Rail.

We only have two power cuts tonight.

Jambo

Zanzibar, Zanzibar Urban/West, Tanzania

1 September 2013

Right then….back again…..typing this in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, after two weeks of no internet on the train. Internet is a bit slow so only going to do short blogs as have lots to catch up on! Typing this looking out of bedroom window at the mist rising from the falls. More about that later.

Back to Zanzibar (which seems an eternity away)…..

Hotel is slap bang in the middle of Stone Town. Check with European owner that it’s safe to walk about given the anti-western feeling that has been reported in the western press which included a headline of the USA’s Newsweek “Terror in Zanzibar” – which regurgitated the British girls’ acid attack story.

Transfer service - note the rope being pulled

Transfer service – note the rope being pulled

 

Am told it’s perfectly safe and given a map of all the alleyways. Venture out and it rapidly becomes apparent that it’s perfectly safe. Everyone is so friendly. Keep hearing “Jambo” (Swahili for hello) and plenty of smiles from locals going about their daily routine.

Prevented from going inside the “House of Wonders” by a wisened old bloke sitting on a ubiquitous white plastic chair. Closed for refurb though judging by the state of things it’s a wonder it’s still standing. Built in the 19th Century it was the first building to have electricity and a lift. The colouring of the stonework of the adjacent fort reminds me of Gondar palace in Ethiopia. Dirty black stone.

Lunch overlooking the Indian Ocean on a hotel balcony. A boat load of local men approach the beach and dive off the boat in quick succession and swim ashore. Hotel security very wary and keeping an eye out. Is it a raid? No. They’re fishing.

Approached by another “guide”. He’s of the scruffy vagabond type. He’s fobbed off. But he follows me so have to do a few quick turns to shake him off. After 10mins he finds me again. And wants money. For something to eat. Call me heartless but he’s fobbed off and I walk off in the opposite direction with him muttering to himself. He later sees me again in a completely different part of town about 20mins from where we were. I’m being stalked. He’s not getting the message is he.

Premonition

Zanzibar, Zanzibar Archipelago, Tanzania

31 August 2013

Awake. Alive. Phew. Still short of breath. Minimal sleep, early alarm call and another long day of travelling to come. The lights keep going out at breakfast. Either a power cut or someone leaning on the light switch.

Shuttle to airport and Ugandan businessman mentions to driver he needs the old domestic terminal. He explains that all flights to East Africa depart from the old terminal. Not the shiny new-ish terminal a few hundred metres away. It’s only because of his advice that I end up at the correct terminal…..as do the other occupants of the bus.

Full scale security search. Have to walk through the scanner three times as it keeps beeping.

Mt Kilimanjaro

Mt Kilimanjaro

 

Boots. Beep. Belt. Beep. Watch (even though it’s a plastic Swatch). Pass through beep free. What a faff. And that’s just to enter the terminal building. Which is indeed shabby. Its one redeeming feature being that it isn’t busy unlike the melee in the international terminal.

Only booked this flight about 10 days ago due to re-routing caused by Egypt & Sudan. Was meant to be flying Addis Ababa-Nairobi-overnight train to Mombasa-flight to Zanzibar. A sleepless night on a crummy train didn’t appeal (been there, seen it, done it) so flying direct to Mombasa. Only after booking did I realise there’s a stop at Kilimanjaro. Incredibly expensive tickets so bought Economy class. For a few nights after buying the ticket I was having nightmares and restless nights dreaming about this flight. Premonition perhaps?

Don’t fancy a scheduled (and I use the term scheduled for a particular reason) 4hrs cramped in Economy.

Mombasa International

Mombasa International

 

Have a plan. Ethiopian Airways and Lufthansa are Star Alliance members. Used to fly Lufthansa every week and so attained the dizzy heights of “Frequent Traveller”. Have a shiny silver card. Present passport and silver card to check in and ask that as I am a Star Alliance member with shiny silver card would it be at all possible to have an upgrade. Pretty please. Nice smile. And with that am upgraded to Business Class. Taurean charm you see. Back in my natural habitat.

Secondary X-ray for departure gate and have to practically undress to pass through the scanner. Flight scheduled to depart 1020hrs. 30min delay announced at 1000hrs “as aircraft had a delayed departure incoming”. 1040hrs jump on shuttle bus. 1100hrs shuttle bus trundles to aircraft. There are a lot of technicians scurrying around. Some around the landing gear with spanners and stuff. Some up a scissor lift under the wing.

Sunset over a long day

Sunset over a long day

 

Some standing around doing nothing. Some pointing. And to top it all off. Fluid leaking from the fuselage. Remember the premonition?! Board and thankful for the upgrade. Acres of space to spread out. Could have a game of footie there’s so much space. Unlike cramped Economy.

1130hrs and still going nowehere. Lots of technicians running to cockpit and back as champagne is quaffed. Five technicians on a scissor lift. One has a grease gun lubricating various points under the wing. The other four looking on. Five more technicians on the ground looking up pointing at wing. Wafting of arms aplenty.

Finally. 1145hrs technicians clear the scissor lift out of the way and aircraft pushed back. That’s about 1.5hrs delay.

It’s a hard life. This is the third day running of champagne, G&T, red wine and port.

More a Taurean thirst!!!

More a Taurean thirst!!!

 

It’s becoming a nasty habit this drinking at altitude. As everyone knows….the difference between drunks and alcoholics……us drunks don’t go to meetings.

Fly past Mount Kilimanjaro – the summit just visible through the clouds clinging to the sides of the mountain. American couple come to my window to gaze at the view and take photos. Ask if they’re off to climb it. “No, not this time.” is the reply.

Land at Kilimanjaro airport 1400hrs. It’s small. Very small. Scheduled stop of 1hr but as we’re running late they’ll speed things up won’t they. Ho ho ho.

Meant to be landing in Mombasa at 1440hrs. This was to give 2hrs 40mins wait before connecting flight to Zanzibar at 1720hrs. It’s now 1400hrs. We’ll make up the time. Won’t we. Soon apparent that we won’t. There’s yet another technical problem with the aircraft. Tehnicians running to cockpit and back to underneath aircraft. Keep being told that we’ll be leaving soon and they laugh when I say my Zanzibar flight is at 1720hrs. No problem they say. We’ll be leaving soon. Of course you’ll make your flight. No problem. Don’t worry. Be happy. Remember that premonition?!

Sit on the tarmac for 2hrs 15mins!!! Cockpit light takes that long to fix.

Monkeys in the airport

Monkeys in the airport

 

It’s now 1615hrs. Flight to Zanzibar at 1720hrs. 35min flying time to Mombasa. Allow for taxi – take off – land – taxi – shuttle bus – queue – passport control – customs – check in – customs – passport control – it’s not looking good is it.

Google Mombasa airport – it looks like it’s a big international airport. This isn’t going to happen. Contingency planning. Hire a helicopter? Bribe an official to bypass everything? Just make a run across the tarmac to the aircraft and sod the consequences? Overnight in Mombasa and fly tomorrow? What if no seats available? Fly direct to Dar Es Salaam and miss Zanzibar?

Fly past Kilimanjaro mountain again. Too busy thinking about contingencies to take it in. Land at Mombasa and touch down at 1650hrs. Resigned to the fact that I’ve now missed the Zanzibar flight. Gutted. Fed up. They’ll be on the shuttle bus to board their flight by now.

Oi - have you checked in?

Oi – have you checked in?

 

In this big international airport.

And then.

I see this big international airport terminal building.

It’s a shed.

GAME ON!

This is just possible.

There are four air bridges. Praying we have an air bridge. We do. Dock at 1655hrs. 25mins to go. Ethiopian stewardess opens the door and tells ground crew that I urgently need to catch a 1720hrs flight. Small woman with radio leaps into action. Except no one is replying to her call backs. She’s under 5 feet tall. We walk very slowly. Almost scoop her up and run with her. But it’s too hot for all that.

Come on. Come on. Chop chop. Can’t you walk any faster?! Finally. Someone responds to her distress call about a distressed tall Taurean. 20mins to go. Come on. Hurry up. Down the stairs to passport control. Told I have to go through passport control – which involves buying a soddin’ visa for 5 minutes in Kenya – and check in at the Fly540 desk.

No, no, no. Don’t have time for all that you silly woman. Check in will be closed now. Flight will be about to taxi now. Bugger. So near. So far.

Hand passport to Immigration officer. She explains about my flight. I don’t want to enter Kenya. I just want to GET ON THIS FLIGHT THAT’S LEAVING NOW!!! Immigration officer disappears with passport. Now where’s he gone. Told by his colleague to stay put. Don’t like people in authority wandering off with my passport. It’s invariably bad news. He returns. Explain again in distressed tones that I don’t want to enter Kenya I just want to transit to Zanzibar on the flight that has now probably left! Grrrrr. More grrrrr.

Calmly told to wait over there and someone will come. Oh yeah? Who? Father Christmas?!! You don’t understand sunshine. My flight is leaving now.

Anxious wait. And wait. Come on. Come on. Hurry up. Impatient. Tetchy. Hot. Extremely tired. Fed up.

Until. A man in a Fly540 embroidered shirt arrives. Hello he says. Uber calm. Chilled out. Laid back. To the point of being horizontal. Unlike me. We’re polar opposites at this point in time.

No worry he says. Be happy. You’ll get your flight. It’s now 1715hrs. Follow me. He asks if I’m been through immigration. Not entirely telling the truth advise that immigration told me I don’t need to go through immigration as I’m going to Zanzibar and that you’ll take me directly to the aircraft. Ahem. That’s what they sort of said. Isn’t it?

Follow me he says. In that laid back African drawl. Which is really annoying as I’m pumped up with adrenalin and buzzing and can’t be doing laid back right now. I want rush, rush, rush, action stations.

Taken out into the baggage handling area, walking past all the baggage trolleys that have been security cleared, around the back of the terminal, into some secure area for authorised personnel only (that’s what the signs say) and then into the check in area. Given a boarding pass. Stress levels reducing now. Calming down. Would I like to check my bag in. No thanks I’ll keep it with me. Asked if I have any liquids or anything like that. Erm no…..lying through my teeth. OK he says then we can go.

Retrace our steps through the authorised personnel area, pass security cleared baggage handling again and up into the air bridge area which is an open air corridor linking all four air bridges. In practice you’d exit the departure gate onto this link corridor to board your flight. Enter the departure gate room but, in effect, in the opposite direction to what is allowed. Walk up to the secondary security check at the departure gate entrance. Fly540 bloke tells them it’s OK I’m off to Zanzibar. A waft of the hand signals that I don’t need to be X-rayed.

And with that the Fly540 bloke tells me the flight has been delayed 30mins. You what?!?! After all that?!?!

So there I am. Standing in a departure hall at 1720hrs. Have broken numerous aviation rules. Been in secure areas I shouldn’t have been. Not had my passport checked. About to board a flight without any security checks. Good job I’m not a terrorist.

T…..I……A……..This Is Africa.

Flight finally takes off 40mins late at 1800hrs. Crappy little aircraft with dodgy seats. Land Zanzibar. Yellow Fever certificate required. Already have visa so that’s plain sailing. Smile for the camera. Fingerprints taken. Passport stamped.

Hotel advise to look out for a teal coloured signboard with hotel name on. Instead there’s a fat bloke holding a scrap of paper with surname scribbled on in marker pen. Darkness has descended as we travel to hotel in Stone Town. Not sure how safe it is as there was a recent acid attack on two British girls a few weeks ago and the press are talking about anti-Western sentiment in Zanzibar etc etc.

Taxi drives through some very dodgy looking streets and markets and we pull up. Jump out and gather my belongings and follow driver down some very dark alleyways. So much so, that for a moment I wonder if I’m going to be mugged. I can do without that tonight after the day I’ve had.

More dark alleyways passing people in traditional garb staring at me. Ready for a fight if needs be. Cynical old sod that I am.

After a few minutes twisting and turning in what is immediately obvious to be a maze of alleys arrive at destination. Safe and sound. And tired. And hungry.

In need of beer after the day I’ve had!

My last gasp of air

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

30 August 2013

Surprisingly straight through security at Frankfurt. Unusually quiet at this early hour. Passport control on the other hand takes an eternity. It’s not vot ze Germans are used to. French efficiency rather than the usual Teutonic speed.

Route to Addis Ababa is over the Alps, down the Dalmatian coast, over Egypt/Libyan border, follow the Nile and pop into Khartoum for an hour for a cup of tea. Champagne on boarding followed by G&T, red wine and port. The decadence of it all. Find myself giggling a bit too loudly at a film enroute (Gambit) and then realise the Gin was 47% proof.

The snow capped Alps are a distant memory as we fly over the Sahara.

Khartoum flooding

Khartoum flooding

 

Sand for a few hours now. Pass over Aswan, Abu Simbel, Lake Nasser and Wadi Haifa which is where the Nile starts again after Lake Nasser.

Nearing Khartoum can see evidence of flooding. The surrounding countryside showing a green mould effect from the plants that have been resuscitated with the rains. Final approach to Khartoum and see a lot more flooding. Even though the floods were 2-4 weeks ago you can feel the extent of it. Suburbs still flooded and roads silted up now cleared.

Khartoum airport runway is the sort where you get to the end then have to do a U-ey to return to the small terminal building. Anti-aircraft batteries dotted along the runway. Not allowed to step off the aircraft but am technically in Sudan……I suppose.

Take off again to Addis Abiba – which the Germans call Addis Abeba – which rhymes with Justin….

Khartoum flooding

Khartoum flooding

 

Just about to be served afternoon tea when the “Fasten Seatbelts” sign comes on. Captain announces there’s slight turbulence ahead and signs on for our own comfort and safety. Then a flash of lightning to my right. Ooooer. It’s going to be bumpy. Then stewardess announces that no food or drink will now be served. Oooer again. Then Captain announces that flight crew are to take their seats immediately. Oooer. We’re going to be thrown about the place I feel. Not the best flyer when it comes to turbulence I have to say. Don’t do turbulence or rough seas. I’m a fair weather sort of traveller. Remember once flying over Amsterdam enroute to Hannover when the pilot announced that the seatbelt signs were on for our comfort and safety when all of a sudden the aircraft dropped from the sky with an almight bang. Everyone’s hands went up in the air rollercoaster like, drinks flyin.

Khartoum flooding

Khartoum flooding

 

Sitting there at 37,000ft, just waiting for the aircraft to drop from the sky. Just waiting. And waiting. And petrified. And waiting. The sky to the right is illuminated with lightning again and again. We’re all going to die.

And then. Nothing. We’ve circumvented the electrical storm. Still miss out on afternoon tea though.

Addis Ababa surprisingly cold at 12C when we land at 2100hrs. Purchase visa on arrival but woman is more interested in what appears to be a local celebrity who is having photos taken with other natives. Tired, hungry and impatient she’s chivvied along as can see that the passport qeues are now filling up with people from two flights. Needn’t worry as the visa on arrival barrier system takes me to a dedicated passport booth and there are only six people in the queue.

Khartoum flooding

Khartoum flooding

 

Photo taken. Fingerprints taken. Passport stamped. Meet hotel transfer who tells me we’re to wait for another woman also on my flight. She’ll be at least an hour judging from the queues and not particularly wanting to wait an hour as tired and hungry.

Fortunately, another shuttle arrives to take over the wait so we buzz off. Food and drink in lobby bar. A good looking girl sits down on her own. She’s obviously a prossie. British lad who, judging from his t-shirt and clothes has just climbed Kilimanjaro asks if the seat is free opposite her. I’m looking at him. He’s looking at me. We’re both thinking the same thing. She’s a prossie.

He makes his move with that classic chat up line “Can you get a wifi connection?”. Which starts a conversation. Which leads to him sitting next to her. Which leads to him buying her a drink.

Struggle to sleep..Body feels as though it’s moving even though it’s static. Keep taking what I think is my last gasp of air. Think I might be having a heart attack or something. Can hardly breathe. Get no sleep worrying that I might be about to die. Here in Addis Ababa. No more blogs.

It’s about 0330hrs after no sleep and gasping for air that I suddenly have a thought. Maybe I’m not dying. Maybe I’m not having a heart attack. Maybe. Just maybe. It might be the altitude. There’s something in the dark recesses of my mind that somewhere on the trip I’m at altitude. Was it Addis Ababa? Or was it Lusaka? Or was it Nairobi? Can’t remember. Can’t Google it as the hotel’s wifi system is down. The worry continues.

And we’re off…..again

Frankfurt, Hesse, Germany

29 August 2013

I know someo of you have actually been missing your daily digest…..partly because it eases you into your working day. Hope to continue to update the blog but it will be more sporadic as internet access won’t be as easily available over the next six weeks due to travelling in remote areas of Africa. So don’t panic if you don’t receive any blogs – the kidnap risk of the Middle East has now gone…….famous last words…..

Let the mayhem begin……Part 2….

As you know, I’m picking up the trail in Addis Ababa which is where I would’ve been were it not for Egypt & Sudan problems.

Arrive Birmingham airport for flight to Frankfurt.

Apfelwein Muller, Niederhochstadt

Apfelwein Muller, Niederhochstadt

 

Bag is stopped at X-ray again for further scrutiny. Now what’s wrong with it?! Have to wait my turn as there’s an elderly lady in a wheelchair having her bag scrutinised. In her 70s, she’s holding a Ryanscare boarding pass and the security want to delve into her bag as some “liquid” has shown up on X-ray. They remove the offending article. It’s a bottle of……wait for it……wood glue. Yep. A whole plastic bottle of wood glue. In her bag. I mean. Really? Perhaps she’s got a peg leg. Anyway, it’s confiscated. I’m up next and trying to think what’s got their knickers in a twist as I feel there’s nothing in the bag that hasn’t already been through various X-rays no problem. The officious woman finds my travel corkscrew and removes it practically stabbing me in the chest to prove I could stab someone with it. It’s been through every airport around the world (well, sort of…) including Manchester and Heathrow, I sniff. “They’re not doing their job properly then!”, she retorts. Refrain from going into the argument of “well if I wanted to stab someone on an aircraft I’d buy a bottle of Duty Free and smash the glass over them”. A pressing need for food takes priority. Good to see a friendly smile from the Business lounge receptionist – used to see her every Monday morning for a few years.

On the flight ask for a Coke and the bottle is called Sarah. Stewardess pours out the Coke and it froths up. “Sarah is a little lively”, she remarks. I don’t know any Sarahs……Susan(ne)s on the other hand……

Meet a colleague at Frankfurt airport. He’s flying out as I fly in and we have a 30 minute window of opportunity for a beer. Good to see you mucka!

Having lived in a village on the outskirts of Frankfurt for about a year and a half upto a couple of years ago am keen to return to my local pub for food and a beer. Regret taking the S-bahn that goes via the football stadium – it’s full of drunken German fans. There’s nothing worse than a drunken German. At least it’s expected from the Brits.

Pop into the Apfelwein Muller. My local in Niederhochstadt. If you’re ever in the area – do pop in for a Kase-Senf Schnitzel. The waitress and owner are surprised (and pleased) to see me again and it’s good to be back – albeit far too briefly.

A brief sojourn

Nottingham, England, United Kingdom

17 August 2013

Sleep disturbed at 0130hrs by the bloke next door shouting down his phone. Don’t like rooms with interconnecting doors. Pet travel hate.

Sleep disturbed at 0600hrs by the telephone. It’s the alarm call. Don’t like alarm calls in the early hours. Pet travel hate #2.

The last thing I need rushing about is for my boot lace to snap. Can’t be bothered relacing so hobble about with boot half undone.

Bellboy hails a taxi off the street. I’m tired and grumpy. Driver’s tired and grumpy. We hit it off straight away. Ask how much to the airport. JD25. Nah. It’s JD20. He argues for JD25. Tell bellboy to hail another taxi. Driver immediately relents and begrudgingly sort of agrees JD20 by telling me to jump in. He’s been up all night and this is the last fare of the shift. Then he’s going home to do (with hand motions) “Coffee. Cigarette. Coffee. Cigarette. Coffee. Cigarette.” In that order. Wish he’d stop playing on his phone and just drive safely to the airpot. We speed along empty roads only slowing down for known police speed traps and tight bends. Normal bends are taken like an F1 car over a chicane. At least it wakes me up. Hand JD20 note to driver once I’ve made sure bag is in my possession. We go through the JD25 routine again. It’s usually JD30 he says. It’s not. It’s JD22 in a nice, clean airport limo with safe driving. It’s JD20 in a clapped out, dirty, taxi with a scruffy driver. And I’m being generous. No, really.

Airport X-ray is a farce. Have the usual liquids, bottles of water and whisky in my rucksack but these do not arouse the slightest suspicion. Given that we’re flying into the UK from a relatively high risk region you would’ve thought the authorities would be a bit tougher on this liquids business. It all rather makes a mockery of the rigmarole we have to go through when flying in Europe. Why is this possible. Surely, there should be some international agreement on this? There’s not even a secondary search as it’s a British airline.

Bit early for champagne in the lounge so make do with coffee, coke (the sparkling drink….) and croissant to wake me up. The chaos in Cairo continues judging from the TV pictures. Know I’m heading back to normality when passing a WH Smith shop enroute to the departure gate.

5hrs soon flies by (as it would on an aircraft) and land at a grey, cold, dismal Heathrow. Welcome to Britain. Landed, disembarked, through passport control and customs in 15mins. A record.

Heathrow Express to Padington. Taxi to Kings Cross. Train to Newark. Greeted by two smiling young ladies who appear to have grown up considerably in the time I’ve been away. Car to home.

Pheasant casserole awaits. It’s good to be back.

Why? Do you want picking up?

Amman, Amman, Jordan

16 August 2013

Quick breakfast before WAMC departs for the airport. Amman-Cairo then 10hrs confined in Cairo airport waiting until the overnight flight. We’ll meet again in Jo’burg in a few weeks.

Uneventful day catching up on emails, blog and diary. First day in a month of travel of being stationary. Much needed!

Skype my chauffeur and ask what she’s doing tomorrow afternoon, “Why? Do you want picking up?” Erm…..yes, please.

Slightly sad that I’ll not be doing the route as planned. Always knew from the start that the two countries that could cause problems were Egypt and Sudan so not so surprised. Am a great believer in “there’s a reason for everything”.

So, the revised plan is thus. Pit-stop in Nottingham for a week or so. Resume trip in Addis Ababa week after next. Continue to Dar es Salaam to meet the cruise train which departs 3-Sept-13. Inshallah.

Don’t like the radio silence

Amman, Jordan

15 August 2013

Early flight to Cairo today. Or that was the plan. Arrive Aqaba airport after a 10min journey into the desert. Much smaller than Tromso airport. It’s the full security shakedown. Watches off, boots off, belts off, computers out. Stupidly though, the liquids, the bottles of water and whisky are OK to take on the flight no problem.

Present passports for check in. There’s a problem with obtaining boarding passes. Clerk says, “There’s a stop on yours.” Great. Now what?! He needs to see the credit card I used to pay for the tickets. Hand him my business credit card and he goes to a back office. It’s not the right one. I remember that my business credit card was replaced a few months ago after I’d bought these tickets due to fraudulent activity being detected on it. Given that I’d been using it for all sorts of payments in all sorts of countries you’d have thought the fraudulent activity would be somewhere in Africa. But no. It was John Lewis.

Fortunately, I’ve brought the expired credit card with me just in case of such circumstances. Clerk takes passport and two credit cards to the back office. We’re going nowhere. Returns. It’s not the right one. Hand my personal credit card over. And back he goes. At this point I see a child walk around the check in desks and also go to the back office behind the conveyors. Well if he can do it, so can I. Enter and met with a pall of cigarette smoke and a few airport workers puffing away. Clerk with credit card is talking on the phone. Seeing me he shakes his head in that “This isn’t the credit card either.” Hand over my business debit card. Hooray. That’s the one. We’re good to go. He explains the process is to protect me against fraud.

Flight routing is Aqaba-Amman-Cairo but we don’t want to do the Cairo leg and to just stop in Amman. Bags have to be checked in as aircraft is too small. Ensure the bags won’t end up in Cairo whilst we hop off in Amman. Sit next to a American Chinese man who is the grown up version of Data off The Goonies.

Unscheduled return to the hotel in Amman. Reception advise the nightly rate is X including all government taxes. Great. That’s quite a good deal. Sign on the dotted line. He then realises his mistake. It’s X plus all government taxes. The toss is argued and the manager is called over. Manager says the difference will have to come out of his pocket. “Fine” I retort. Early mornings, dodgy guts and lack of sleep make me one grumpy ogre. Agree with manager a “discount”.

Spend the afternoon checking flights and options. Realise why I’ve not heard from the travel agent in Khartoum. It’s under water. Seems like Sudan has suffered severe flooding. Reports of 200,000 displaced people, aid flights bringing supplies and parts of Khartoum flooded. With more flooding forecast. Travel agent is usually prompt at replying to emails but having not heard from him for over a week assume he’s been washed away. The fly in the ointment being that he was to arrange an entry visa. Bit of a sticky situation. Have no entry visa. Don’t even have permission to fly as there are no visas on arrival. Hmmm. See how bad the floods are on Al-Jazeera. Now is not the time to go Sudan. Decide to put the kibosh on Sudan. FCO also advise there’s a high risk of kidnap, “The FCO believes terrorists are planning to kidnap westerners in Sudan, probably in Khartoum.” Yeah, well – can do without that interrupting my gin & tonic.

WAMC & I discuss the options. There are further killings in Cairo today and a “day of rage” is planned by the Muslim Brotherhood for tomorrow after Friday Prayers. Prime concern is if we can actually reach Luxor to meet up with the Nile cruise. Original intention was to take the day train from Cairo to Luxor on Sunday (notwithstanding existing government restrictions on foreigners using the day train). If we were prevented from boarding the day train then contingency was the overnight train (which apparently has security on board for foreigners). However, we learn the entire Egyptian rail network has been shut down. Flying it is.

Speak on the telephone with an Egyptair representative. They advise that Luxor and Aswan airports are closed. Only Cairo, Sharm and Alexandria are operating. Well that solves that problem then – we can’t even get to Luxor. But…..check on the internet and find live departures/arrivals for Luxor which suggests it’s operating as usual. Conflicting information.

Further discussions. What we don’t need is for us to actually make Luxor, jump on the Nile cruise and find ourselves in Aswan with the airport shut, the rail network closed and no means of getting out of Egypt. As WAMC jokes, “It might be a longer Nile cruise than we anticipated.” Quite. We’re also not insured. Both agree to cancel the Nile cruise – the risks aren’t worth it. Common sense prevails.

With that in mind there’s no point staying in Amman any longer. WAMC is to fly home to Jo’burg. I now have two weeks to kill. Look at map and wonder where I could go for two weeks before resuming trip in Addis Ababa that 1) is of interest, 2) is somewhere I’ve not been before, and, 3) doesn’t require a visa. Struggle to find somewhere suitable. Then a brainwave. What every great Cape to Cape trip must have. A pit-stop in Nottingham. Shall fly home. It’s only 5hrs away.

It’s now 1645hrs. Thursday afternoon. The equivalent of our Friday afternoon. When everyone is closing for the weekend. We have flights to re-arrange. Pronto. Speak with the Egyptair rep in Amman by telephone to re-arrange WAMC’s flight to Jo’burg. He doesn’t speak English. Have to wait until they find someone in the office that speaks English and are to ring back in 5mins. It is possible to fly out tomorrow. Amman-Cairo-Jo’burg but with 10hr layover in Cairo airport as it’s an overnight flight to Jo’burg.

It’s about 1715hrs when the flights are booked over the telephone. All WAMC has to do now is pay by credit card to confirm the booking. Easy peasy. Er no. They physically need the credit card to process payment and passport. Oh for flip’s sake. Really? Why didn’t you say that earlier? They shut at 1730hrs. Told it’s “only” 10mins by taxi. You know where this is going don’t you? Rush hour traffic. The evening when everyone is going home for the Arab weekend. We have the slowest taxi driver.

He’s been instructed by hotel where to take us. We’ve been told the Egyptair office is really easy to find as it’s opposite Zara and everyone will know it. Yep. Taxi pulls up at a semi-pedestrianised street and tells us that’s the street. It’s a long street. Not wanting to walk all the way down looking for needles in haystacks he’s made to drive down. He’s asking natives where the Egyptair office is. There’s a lot of shrugging of shoulders. Crawl down the street. More shrugging. At the far end we spot Zara (it’s a clothes shop). More “Do you know where the Egyptair office is?” in Arabic. More shrugging. It’s not going well.

Finally, the Egyptair sign is spotted. It’s a travel agency. Phew. WAMC confirms his flight details and obtains ticket. As it’s a travel agency it makes sense for me to organise my flight here rather than doing it online when I return to the hotel. There are no flights available tomorrow. BA & Royal Jordanian fully booked. Not wanting to fly via Cairo or depart Amman at 0300hrs to Rome/Paris/Amsterdam/Frankfurt. BA have seats available on the 0900hrs flight on Saturday. A much more civilised hour.

Glad to jump in bed after a busy day. Friend texts to say “Don’t like the radio silence. Are you OK?”…….where do I start……