Off We Go
March 30, 2006
Bamako was good, but I’m glad to be gone. I bought a balafon for my sister. It was packed into a box that looks exactly like a coffin. I bought a bunch of fabric to pack around it, I even ordered some tailor made shirts to go in there too. The shirts didn’t get done in time so I had to pack them in my suitcase.
We got to the Bamako airport around six for a 7:30 pm flight. We bumped into some South African okes that were on their way home. They had been working on a mine in Guinea for six months and now had some time off. I managed to befriend one drunken fool who proceeded to bug the shit out of me until we got on the plane.
We loaded into a half empty plane for our seven hour flight to Nairobi. It’s interesting, actually, after you check in, you go through a security check to get to the departure gate. When it’s time to load up you have to place your bags on a table where they are visually inspected and a metal detecting wand is run over you, then after identifying your checked baggage, you walk across the tarmac, up the stairs and onto the plane.
We picked our seats. Carrie got one row and I got another. Zachary bounced between us, eventually passing out next to me. Good food, good movies, and one drunk, obnoxious idiot bugging me every twenty minutes. At one point he invited me to step into the bathroom for a smoke. I politely declined.
We touched down early in Nairobi. We were on the wrong side of the plane to see Mount Kilimanjaro of course, but we got some nice views of the city. We were delayed at the gate waiting for security to arrive. When I saw the drunken fool escorted to the back of the aircraft I realized why security had been called. We walked across the tarmac, up some really whacked out slanty stairs and into the terminal. It was now about 6:00 am local time (three hours ahead of Mali, eight hours ahead of NYC, eleven hours ahead of Seattle). All of the shops were opening up, but we were not allowed to enter our gate waiting area. We found a public area and stared at the wall for half an hour till they let us in.
When we finally lined up for the gate, we bumped into drunken fool’s friends. I asked them what had happened to him. They said that security had taken him off and good riddance. While his buddies rode with us to Jo’burg, we didn’t see him again. He has my email, maybe I’ll get the rest of the story and we can all have a laugh on him. We had our bags x-rayed again, went through the metal detector again, and sat in a little room with more people than chairs until they called our flight. At that point we walked out the door, down the whacked out slanty steps, crossed in front of two jets waiting at gates, through the extra loading stairs, past the baggage trains, out to the middle of the runway where our plane was parked.
This plane was filled so no choice on the seats. We occupied one row, Zachary at the window and me on the aisle. It was a four hour flight to Johannesburg. May I just take this opportunity to say that Zachary is the best traveler ever? The boy rocks. He kneels on the floor, playing quietly with his toys. When he gets bored he recruits Carrie or me to walk the aisle with him. He smiles at everyone, slaps high fives when asked, walks to the back of the plane and back to his seat and sits again to play some more. We all got a little sleep…in the last ten minutes of the flight.
The flight was excruciating. We were all tired of flying after twelve hours and just wanted to arrive and be done. Unfortunately, there was more to come. The Jo’burg airport is divided up into different terminals. International flights have one terminal and domestic flights have several others. We exited the plane, waited in line to present our passports and immunization information and proceeded to baggage claim. We went to the carousel marked with our flight, but our bags weren’t there. We finally spotted the “coffin” lying to the side and asked the fellow where our bags might be. He directed us to the carousel marked “Paris”. Of course, why didn’t we think of that?
Customs didn’t even ask about the box. We breezed through and headed out. A porter caught up with us and took us to long term storage where we deposited the coffin and headed for our next plane which departed in, what time is it?, oh shit thirty minutes! There are no shuttle busses so we ran down the sidewalk to the next terminal.
We stood in line, watching the minutes tick by, hoping we wouldn’t miss the plane. They expressed us through. Fortunately, there were several folks in line for the same flight. We checked our bags, blazed through security, and made like O.J. Simpson to the gate. Of course ours was the last gate in the terminal, but we made it! They sat us in business class even! Free drinks, a tremendous breakfast, newspaper, fresh bread, too bad we were only in the air an hour.
We rented a car and drove (on the left) to our hotel where we promptly passed out for three hours. We woke, had dinner, and slept the rest of the night. Closer inspection in the daylight revealed that we were staying in the Bronx with a beach. The fellow at the liquor store warned us not to wander far. We bought supplies and blazed a trail. It was a beautiful drive if just slightly disconcerting being on the left. Tonight we are in the woods (I saw a zebra!). We are finally relaxing after the trials of travel.
MJR
Bamako was good, but I’m glad to be gone. I bought a balafon for my sister. It was packed into a box that looks exactly like a coffin. I bought a bunch of fabric to pack around it, I even ordered some tailor made shirts to go in there too. The shirts didn’t get done in time so I had to pack them in my suitcase.
We got to the Bamako airport around six for a 7:30 pm flight. We bumped into some South African okes that were on their way home. They had been working on a mine in Guinea for six months and now had some time off. I managed to befriend one drunken fool who proceeded to bug the shit out of me until we got on the plane.We loaded into a half empty plane for our seven hour flight to Nairobi. It’s interesting, actually, after you check in, you go through a security check to get to the departure gate. When it’s time to load up you have to place your bags on a table where they are visually inspected and a metal detecting wand is run over you, then after identifying your checked baggage, you walk across the tarmac, up the stairs and onto the plane.
We picked our seats. Carrie got one row and I got another. Zachary bounced between us, eventually passing out next to me. Good food, good movies, and one drunk, obnoxious idiot bugging me every twenty minutes. At one point he invited me to step into the bathroom for a smoke. I politely declined.
We touched down early in Nairobi. We were on the wrong side of the plane to see Mount Kilimanjaro of course, but we got some nice views of the city. We were delayed at the gate waiting for security to arrive. When I saw the drunken fool escorted to the back of the aircraft I realized why security had been called. We walked across the tarmac, up some really whacked out slanty stairs and into the terminal. It was now about 6:00 am local time (three hours ahead of Mali, eight hours ahead of NYC, eleven hours ahead of Seattle). All of the shops were opening up, but we were not allowed to enter our gate waiting area. We found a public area and stared at the wall for half an hour till they let us in.
When we finally lined up for the gate, we bumped into drunken fool’s friends. I asked them what had happened to him. They said that security had taken him off and good riddance. While his buddies rode with us to Jo’burg, we didn’t see him again. He has my email, maybe I’ll get the rest of the story and we can all have a laugh on him. We had our bags x-rayed again, went through the metal detector again, and sat in a little room with more people than chairs until they called our flight. At that point we walked out the door, down the whacked out slanty steps, crossed in front of two jets waiting at gates, through the extra loading stairs, past the baggage trains, out to the middle of the runway where our plane was parked.
This plane was filled so no choice on the seats. We occupied one row, Zachary at the window and me on the aisle. It was a four hour flight to Johannesburg. May I just take this opportunity to say that Zachary is the best traveler ever? The boy rocks. He kneels on the floor, playing quietly with his toys. When he gets bored he recruits Carrie or me to walk the aisle with him. He smiles at everyone, slaps high fives when asked, walks to the back of the plane and back to his seat and sits again to play some more. We all got a little sleep…in the last ten minutes of the flight.
The flight was excruciating. We were all tired of flying after twelve hours and just wanted to arrive and be done. Unfortunately, there was more to come. The Jo’burg airport is divided up into different terminals. International flights have one terminal and domestic flights have several others. We exited the plane, waited in line to present our passports and immunization information and proceeded to baggage claim. We went to the carousel marked with our flight, but our bags weren’t there. We finally spotted the “coffin” lying to the side and asked the fellow where our bags might be. He directed us to the carousel marked “Paris”. Of course, why didn’t we think of that?
Customs didn’t even ask about the box. We breezed through and headed out. A porter caught up with us and took us to long term storage where we deposited the coffin and headed for our next plane which departed in, what time is it?, oh shit thirty minutes! There are no shuttle busses so we ran down the sidewalk to the next terminal.
We stood in line, watching the minutes tick by, hoping we wouldn’t miss the plane. They expressed us through. Fortunately, there were several folks in line for the same flight. We checked our bags, blazed through security, and made like O.J. Simpson to the gate. Of course ours was the last gate in the terminal, but we made it! They sat us in business class even! Free drinks, a tremendous breakfast, newspaper, fresh bread, too bad we were only in the air an hour.
We rented a car and drove (on the left) to our hotel where we promptly passed out for three hours. We woke, had dinner, and slept the rest of the night. Closer inspection in the daylight revealed that we were staying in the Bronx with a beach. The fellow at the liquor store warned us not to wander far. We bought supplies and blazed a trail. It was a beautiful drive if just slightly disconcerting being on the left. Tonight we are in the woods (I saw a zebra!). We are finally relaxing after the trials of travel.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 9:21 AM
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