Day 2 - Jambo Jambo!

07:30
The guy sitting next to me on the flight from London into Nairobi is, let's be frank, a bit of a dick. Rude to the staff, making a mess that intrudes into my seat space - just generally being a bore. The crew on the flight are lovely. So friendly and thoughtful. Dinner service is done within 2 hours of take-off, so plenty of time for some sleep. The food is really tasty. I’ve not eaten much through the day, so it was a welcome interjection. A braised beef cheek dish served with smoked mashed potato is stellar. Not great for a plane - just great, full stop.

Sated, I get my head down for some sleep. I manage about 3 hours, which isn’t terrible. Neither is it great. Suspect I’ll have dozes on my subsequent flights. I try to get back to sleep, but it’s not gonna happen. The rest of the cabin is dark and quiet, so I get up for a mooch. I end up sitting with some of the crew at the front of the plane. Peter, Michelle and Asilia (female) tell me about their life working for Kenya Airways, and some of the destinations they’ve visited that I have not yet. They tell me that I’ll be blown away by Victoria Falls, that Namibia will spell-bind me. They share stories of Madagascar and Mozambique, both high up on my list of must visit places. They are less than warm in their descriptions of their visits to China, where they feel that black people are treated incredibly poorly.

I watch a movie to pass the time - Mystic River. I missed it the first time around, and have never got around to watching. It’s excellent. Brilliantly directed by Clint Eastwood, and some great performances from an ensemble cast. Give it a whirl. Pretty bleak, but worth the misery…

We land into NBO on time at 05:35, and then take nearly 40 minutes to deplane, which is ludicrous. There’s a bit of a hiatus at the security check for transferring passengers, where but 2 security staff are manning 4 security scanners. I’m quickly enough pitching up at the Simba Lounge. I’m a little confused - on the departure screens around the airport, my flight is showing as departing at its original departure time of 07:45. Now, before I left London, I got a message from Kenya Airways saying it had been delayed to 08:40. You trust the local, on-the-ground information, right?

WRONG. As I show my boarding card to the receptionist at the Simba lounge, she tells me that the flight is slightly delayed, to 08:40. So that’s not at all baffling.

In the lounge, I park up. I’m feeling pretty sleepy. I don’t wanna overdo it on caffeine, as I’d like to get some more sleep on my 4 hour hop into Johannesburg. There’s a rule that says when in Kenya, you must Tusker. I’m not gonna break the rules, so….

13:30
The Tusker nearly finishes me off. Not in a terrible way, but by the time I leave the lounge for my now 08:40 departure, I’m close to narcoleptic. Happily, when I arrive at the gate, the sign says we’re already boarding. This proves to be a lie. We sit in an increasingly warm departure gate for 45 minutes. I don’t have any WiFi or cell signal here, so can’t even investigate what’s going on. Several times, I catch myself nodding off.

Finally, we board around 09:00. My seat is super comfy, and has tons of leg room. It’s a regional flight, so not a full lie-flat bed type affair, but it will serve my purposes. Seconds after I sit down, I’m fast asleep. The next thing I remember is the pilot slamming the power up for takeoff. After we level off, I’m back into zizz-land. I’m woken an hour later by a wonderful cabin crew member called Festo, who offers me breakfast. I’m not entirely sure what time of day my body thinks it is, but breakfast sounds cool. He offers me coffee, which I decline. I have my sights set on at least another hour of snooze before we arrive into Joburg.

I wake for the final time as an announcement declares that we’ll begin our descent into Joburg soon. I’ve comfortably slept 3 of the 4 hours I’ve been on the plane. So why then, did I struggle to sleep in the objectively much comfier, 6 foot long bed of my overnight flight. Excitement and anticipation? Perhaps. I think I’ve had somewhere between 5 and 6 hours all in, so probably enough to get me through the day. Probably depends how many Savanna I have time for in the lounge at Joburg.

Speaking of which! My first Savanna Dry on African soil in a few years. It’s served in a goblet the size of my head, as is apparently the way. I’m not sure why I have such an attachment to this drink. It’s a fairly sweet apple cider that’s ubiquitous in South Africa (and, I’m assured, Namibia), and has a faint taste of bubblegum. At least, of the synthetic bubblegum flavour of sweets of my youth. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I very rarely buy it in the UK, but in Africa, it’s my go-to thirst quencher. It’s clearly evocative of some of my earliest trips to South Africa, which I loved so much. That’s fully 25 years ago now, and I’ve yet to grow bored of this incredible country.

The South African Airways lounge is lovely. Easily the best of the three I’ve visited on this sector. Tons of space, lots of quiet little nooks and crannies, great view of the runway. Joburg’s international terminal is faintly familiar. I’ve definitely flown out of here a few times, most recently when Vicki and I flew from Joburg back to London in 2019. There’s a supersized model of Nelson Mandela in one of the shops, which rings a vague bell. I’ll try and get a selfie on the way to the departure gate…

21:00
Totes forgot about the NM selfie. In my defence, the bar dude in the lounge had decided to keep my head sized Savanna filled it all times, and by the time I went to the board the plane, I was somewhat refreshed.

You’re going to see me use the term ‘TIA’ quite a lot over the next few weeks. It’s an acronym for ‘This is Africa.’ For those that spend a lot of time here, it infers that shit’s gonna happen, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The reason I mention this is because I have my first TIA experience at the departure gate in Joburg. We’re delayed - by how much, no one knows. Why, no one cares. I ask how long it will be till we board, and am told 5-7 minutes. 12-25 minutes later, I enquire again, and am told 5-7 minutes. TIA. No amount of European hissy-fitting is gonna change the circumstances. You’ve just gotta kick-back, be patient, and say, “TIA.”

I’ve been a bit non-plussed about my last flight of this particular journey. I’m in seat 6J, which on a 30 row plane, doesn’t feel all that business-y. It transpires that row 6 is the first row on the aircraft. As I board, I meet Portia, who is the purser for the flight. She looks mischievous, so we immediately make friends.

As the plane levels out, the cabin crew run a drinks service. Portia recommends an aged and oaked Chenin Blanc. I’m game. It’s delicious. I ask to look at the bottle, and it’s made by my old friend Carmen Stevens. I had some snacks in the lounge, so am not hungry, but Portia keeps my glass topped up.

About 30 minutes before we arrive, I nip to the bathroom. On my return to my seat, I find my wine glass refilled. Honestly - best cabin crew ever.

We land into WDH pretty much on time. I’m through immigration fairly quickly, despite some hefty language challenges along the way. It’s a new stamp in my passport, and I’m delighted about that. This current passport is on its way out soon, and I’m gutted, because:

1) It’s an old style, burgundy EU passport, and
2) It has WAY more stamps than any other passport I’ve ever had.

I want to frame it.

Past immigration, and holy fuck! My bag is the FIRST to emerge from the baggage handlers. Whenever I’m on a multi-leg sector, there’s a hint of anxiety as to whether my bag will turn up at all. When it’s three legs, all through Africa, I’m stunned.

Through customs, and I’m looking for my driver to take me to my overnight hotel stay. No sign. I ask a few drivers, but nothing. TIA. I head to the ATM to get some cash, and pop into a local mobile provider’s shop to get a sim card for some local data. This takes all of 10 minutes. Still no sign of my driver. With my new sim card, I call them. They tell me to (and I’m not making this up) keep my eyes open for a driver.

A dude approaches me, and asks if I am Kim. I go with it, because at this point - why not? It’s a 30 minute drive into Windhoek, largely down a clear dual carriageway. The sun is setting to the West of us, and I breathe a sigh of, not relief, but of comfort. I’m incredibly lucky to have travelled as extensively as I have. According to Claude, I’m better travelled than more than 99% of the global population. And I will always get the frisson of excitement of discovering somewhere new. But there is nothing, NOTHING like arriving into Africa for an extended adventure. It is bold, it is slightly scary, but it is the absolute tits when it comes to excitement and exploration.

Arriving to Arrebush, I’m suddenly conscious I’ve been on the road for around 30 hours. That’s a lot, in anyone’s currency. My room is great, but I’m hungry. The lodge restaurant offers a ‘venison’ of the day. In Africa, that means whatever local antelope is good and/or available. Tonight, it’s Oryx, something I’ve not had before. Most African venison is SO lean that you have to order it medium rare, in case shoe leather. The Oryx is sensational - incredible flavour, and accompanied with a simple but delicious pilaf rice. Couple of glasses of a more than decent Western Cape Cabernet, and I’m out for less than £15. Sensational value, and a massively cool welcome to the continent. I am SO excited for tomorrow that I briefly doubt I'll sleep.Read more