Beginning of the holiday,

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Wed 26^thAugust



First potential emotional meltdown. Was trying to book a safari in Zambia and Botswana for a week after my teaching sojourn, and needing a Zambian visa nearly became my internet Nemesis. Various websites seemed definite that I would not be able to get one at entry, though one hinted that I might. A live chatroom suggested I ask the Zambian Consulate. Their website was stiff with phone numbers to ring, which on closer inspection were all the same number, and they obviously had staffing problems, as all I got was a cheery announcement telling me to phone between 9am and 4.30 Monday to Friday. Eleven thirty on a Wednesday clearly wasn't good enough. Luckily my cousin works for a Zambian company so I rang him. 'Just pay US$50 on entry,' he said. Problem solved. Breakdown averted.







Second potential emotional meltdown.



Arriving at 6pm at the check in desk, the clerk expressed concern that I didn't have a ticket for leaving Malawi. 'They may not let you in,' he said, and suggested I buy a fully refundable ticket from Ethiopian Airways. I queued at the desk to buy a ticket (for £1000!) that this clerk assured me could be refunded.



Watch this space.







Third potential emotional meltdown



Having checked in baggage that was only slightly overweight I got through the security area, I went to an ATM to get some more cash out. You can only get Malawi kwacha in the country but they accept (very gladly) dollars or pounds. I had plenty of dollars and had been stocking up on pounds to take. The machine gave me back my card, told me to take my cash, lights on the cash dispenser drawer twinkled at me for several moments, before switching off, giving me my receipt and thanking me for my custom. Where was my £200? My receipt said it had been dispensed. I didn't dare move away, in case it was a late developer and gave it to somebody else. My travelling companion had wandered off to check out the menu options at the Heathrow Fullers pub, but came back and helped me explain my problem to bankstaff who offered solace in confirming that the ATM often didn't dispense, and help by giving me a form to fill in and get the money credited to my account, though 'It may take a week or two.' Watch this space.



The rest of the journey was uneventful, though the plane from Heathrow was an hour and a half late leaving (because of congestion in the airport NB. perhaps Heathrow is determined to get it's extra runway by forcing customers to feel the pinch). We didn't mind leaving late, as it meant one and a half hours less spent waiting in Addis Ababa, which could only be a good thing. Film choices: limited. Jailhouse Rock – excellent. Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – crap, even with its five star cast.



From Addis Abbaba we sat with an Irish architectural student, Daniel, who was coming out to help rebuild a school in the South demolished in the floods earlier this year. He was staying at the same place as us, Mabuya Camp, so we shared a taxi as out intended lift hadn't shown up.







Friday 28^th August



After a 12 hour sleep I felt more human, and we walked into town to get some provisions, and to go to the Ethiopian Airways office to get my money back on my (absolutely unnecessary) air ticket. This should be credited to my account, 'In a week or two.' Hmm.



On our way into town we had seen the golf club offering daily membership, and we popped in to inquire. The manager showed us round, and told us about the jazz band that would be playing that evening. 'Come as my guests,' he said. 'Bring a party, and tell them on the gate, that Dion invited you.'



That evening we took Daniel and his four student cohorts with us. The band was good, the food was fine, and the beer was cheap. There were many rich Malawians there, golf club membership would be beyond the reach of ordinary local workers.

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