Day 2: Paris - Johannesburg - Windhoek

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Paris

Imagine if you will, the balmy Southern Hemisphere skies. Imagine being seated in a Jo’burg casino surrounded by plenty of PYTs at the Black Jack table, drinking South African beer. Imagine the autumn stars of the southern constellations shining down on the young and carefree. Imagine … because at that precise moment, that’s what I had to do. Instead of being ensconced in a Jo’burg hotel, I was still in Paris, waiting for the delayed 23h30 flight south!

Terminal 2F is not the best of places to wait but at least there was a coffee shop. So it was with some relief that the flight was called and I was one of the first to head down the air bridge and claim my seat - an aisle seat on the left hand side of the plane. Waiting for my fellow passengers, I was unable to get settled until they arrived - three of them (parents and a child).

In the air at last

After checking with the stewardess, I agreed to move in order to allow them all to sit together and settled in my new seat, next to the bulkhead. Not ideal, but hey, I’m travelling alone and intending to sleep the whole way so no skin off my nose. The downside was that I was next but one to a woman with a baby but I figured that was a better option than sitting near someone who was odourly challenged!!!!

I’d just started to chat to the French gentlemen next to me when another stewardess came up to me and asked whether I would consider moving in order to accommodate another woman and her baby. Again, no worries so I headed towards the back of the plane to be greeted by smiles and handshakes from 5 other passengers who were relieved that they were going to have a (more) peaceful flight. Apparently, the woman had been very surly and was trying to hold her baby in a single seat which was occupied by her. As for me - I now had the window and no babies!!!!

Struggling to remain awake, I failed and missed the take off but fortunately woke up just as the staff were serving tea. Despite having eaten a meal earlier I was rather hungry and, even though it was 01h00, thoroughly enjoyed my meal of chicken and mushrooms with rice, apricot crumble and a bottle of red wine.

Adjusting my seatback to a more comfortable angle and making sure my head was supported by the movable headrest, I fell asleep almost instantaneously and awoke to a beautiful dawn over Central Africa with my dinner tray having been removed! Now that’s service!

Below me lay the mighty Congo, twisting its way across the lush green Central African jungle. It was such a moving sight as my impression of Central Africa was of Victorian explorers hacking their way through virgin jungle, defeating lions in order to bring Christianity to the natives. Yet I was reminded of the words sung by Bette Midler:

From a distance, the world looks blue and green …
From a distance, you are my friend …

From a distance we all have enough,
And no one is in need.
And there are no guns, no bombs and no disease,
No hungry mouths to feed.

… and here I was, flying over one of the most dangerous countries in Africa - and it all looked so peaceful.

Continuing our journey south, I was disappointed to have missed the view of the Victoria Falls as they were on the other side of the plane. However, I was cheered by being able to recognise Botswana’s Makgadikgadi Pans - having read about them before I started. These are the remains of a giant lake formed more than 5 million years previously and reaching to depths of over 100 feet. Unfortunately, climate change some 10,000 years ago resulted in the waters receding. Who says climate change is a recent phenomenon?

Peering out at the landscape below, it was evident that, although the ground was dotted with what appeared to be bushes, long straight lines skimmed from horizon to horizon. Initially, I thought these may be roads or border fences but later leaned that they were probably buffalo fences, designed to keep the domestic cattle from mixing with the wild.

My aerial sightseeing was soon disturbed by the arrival of a breakfast of ham, cheese, yoghurt, coffee and orange juice. The delights of this meal were only broken by the stunning views from outside the plane and the news that we were late and would be arriving in Jo’burg at 10h45 local time. Boarding time for the next flight was 11h30 so all attempts at building in a contingency had well and truly been blown. To make matters worse, I was now in a window seat at the back of the plane and would not be able to disembark until at least 11h00, if I was lucky - and I didn’t have a boarding pass for Windhoek!

Jo’burg

The plane landed on time (i.e., at the later time given earlier) and the stewardess approached me with a plastic bag. She thanked me for having had to move twice and thrust a bottle of first class red wine into my hands. Sitting there somewhat bemused, I thanked her and wondered when and how I’d be able to drink it between the plane and the departure lounge!!!!

Once the doors were open, there was a mad dash to the transfer desk. I think this is where my problems worsened as my rucksack was nowhere to be seen. Still, I acquired my ticket and dashed through the security machines and into the departure lounge. Considering that the flight was due for boarding at 11h30 and it was now 11h25, there was a remarkable air of calmness abounding.

Thinking there was not enough time to do anything, I joined the back of the queue and waited. Shortly thereafter, I was joined by the French gentleman from the previous flight - we’d been assigned neighbouring seats. It transpired that he worked in wildlife and actually lived in Namibia.

Passing time with him was a pleasant affair even when he pointed out that there was time and there was African time. The plane wasn’t ready but hey, this was Africa!

Jo’burg to Windhoek

Some thirty minutes later than planned, we found ourselves on a Boeing 737 heading towards Windhoek. The plane was somewhat smaller than the 777 we’d earlier left but was undoubtedly friendlier. I was sitting next to a Namibian couple who ran a game lodge in the Namibian National Park and even managed to get a business card off them.

The short flight into Windhoek was relatively uneventful, although the chicken lasagne and red wine was accompanied by bad turbulence. I decided to drink my wine directly from the bottle in order to avoid any spillage - a good move as I was later to discover.

In keeping with the rest of the journey, we landed with a bump, somewhat later than scheduled, disembarked and walked across the airfield into the terminal building.

Windhoek

Joining the throng around the carousel, I waited in the forlorn hope of being reunited with my bag. After all the events, delays and changes of plan over the preceding 24 hours, I was not expecting miracles - just a rucksack. I’d had a nagging doubt since Paris that the bag wouldn’t be seen again and, with several others, was not surprised when it didn’t. In fact, I was so not surprised, I didn’t even fall over!

Reporting to lost luggage, I obtained a suitable receipt, gave the bottle of French wine to my new found French friend so that he could go and celebrate with his girlfriend and made my way through the Green Channel. What had I to declare, apart from the clothes I wore and my camera bag? Everything else was tucked in my rucksack and I was due to spend two weeks on safari with no clothes!

In the terminal building, I was met by my driver, who directed me to a reasonably old Mercedes. There was no air-conditioning and the centre console kept popping open on the trip from the airport into Windhoek. The scenery was not what I expected, although I noted that it was very flat. I’d imagined that Namibia was a red-sanded desert and was somewhat taken aback by the scrub and bush.

Arriving at the Roof of Africa backpackers, I checked in and went in search of a shop. Bearing in mind that it was now about 18h00 on a Saturday night, I didn’t hold out much hope but was pleased to find a supermarket. Hunting around, a bought a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap and some deodorant. Unfortunately, there were no clothes to be found, so I headed back to the backpackers and sat in the sun with a beer.

The staff were very helpful and called the airport a little later to confirm whether or not my bag had been found and sent on the 18h00 flight. Sadly, it was still missing and I was now down to the clothes I wore.

Whilst sitting in the sun, a typical looking, short-wearing, Boer-type gentleman came up to me and introduced himself as my guide Alfred, for the next two weeks. He had just arrived from a trip from Cape Town through South Namibia and, upon explaining my predicament, kindly lent me a new shirt. He even suggested that Maun would be the most likely place to find clothes, but that was some 800km away! He also suggested that, if the rucksack did appear, Maun airport would be a good place to send it. Apparently, although it’s not in the notes, we were to fly from there - this will be an interesting trip!

Taking Alfred’s shirt, I went and freshened up and headed to the bar for the 19h00 meeting. Four from the previous trip would be leaving and two, Brian and Jill, two Australians, would be continuing. It appeared that the safari would comprise Alfred, our guide, and just two others - things were indeed looking up!

Alfred had booked a table for us all at Joe’s Beer House, described as a popular tourist spot where one can eat game-oriented meat (oryx, kudu, zebra, crocodile, etc.) in the comfort of a faux African hut. Not bad at all, as it turned out - I had the kudu steak and a bottle of wine - coming to just under £8.

Walking back to the lodge at the end of the evening, we were instructed to get a good night’s sleep, pack and be in breakfast by 07h00. So, as instructed, I put my washing kit in my newly acquired carrier bag and settled down to sleep. That was quick.

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