Thursday, August 9th, 2018
As I am packing up to leave South Africa, I come to the conclusion that Africa will just have to go right back onto the bucket list as there are so many things I didn't get to see.
One of them is the Nelson Mandela Memorial which is, of course, not in Cape Town as I mistakenly assumed, but in Natal Midlands, Mandela's capture site, some 1530 km from Cape Town.
No wonder, I couldn't find it in Cape Town.
Another thing I didn't get to see was the West Coast with all the wildflowers. I was simply too early in the season, the flowers weren't out.
The same goes for Kirstenbosch where I was also too early in the season.
I didn't get to see all the animals either. For instance, I never saw lions or leopards in the wild, nor rhinos for that matter. The reason why I didn't get to see any giraffes was - as I mentioned earlier - the fact that there is not the tall vegetation for the giraffes.
The bucket list says: roam a bit farther!
What I would really like to do, is a safari in one of the big National Parks where one camps in tents in the park.
And while I'm at it, why not visit Victoria Falls.............
Better not get carried away, I have luggage to pack and a plane to catch.
Theresa and Marc have already set up a stand at one of the markets and she is taking me there now so I can say goodbye to Marc.
Theresa has given me one of her beautiful bracelets. Now I'm keen to purchase a necklace and a pair of ear rings to go with it.
Then we head off to the airport.
We are still smiling as I line up to check in for my flight to Addis Ababa. However, that soon changes.
An hour later, we are quite ready to sit on the floor and scream blue murder.
I get told there is a problem with my ticket and I can't be checked in. That person sends me to some supervisor woman who keeps telling me my ticket has 'control' on it, there is nothing they can do, I have to contact Air Canada.
O yea? Like how? Do they have an office here? No. She is clearly not the least bit interested in being helpful. At some point she even resorts to making some stupid comment in Afrikaans when she knows full well I don't understand the language.
At least she has the decency to be visibly taken aback when Theresa tells her off in her own language.
After a trip to yet another office and a lot more waiting, some boarding passes are finally printed out - for the first two legs of the journey - and I'm told I can now check in.
My suitcase is the last piece of luggage by a mile and I can only hope that it will still make it to the same plane that I'll be on.
By now, more than an hour has gone by and what was to be a leisurely goodbye turns into a completely rushed affair as I now have to run and board my flight immediately.
Once on the plane, I find it comfortable enough and sit back to enjoy the flight.
I am flying to Addis Ababa where I'll have to catch a flight to Dehli and from there onward to Colombo, Sri Lanka.
What else can possibly go wrong?
Well, how about the shamozzle at Addis Ababa airport?
There are hundreds of people everywhere, all pushing and shoving as we are made to line up for yet another security check. We even have to take our shoes off (sandals in my case).
Knowing I only have a total of about 90 minutes on my hands, I ask the nearest uniformed person which way I should walk to find my gate. I get pointed in a general direction and start walking. When I arrive in some cul-de-sac and still can't see my gate, I ask somebody else who promptly points me in the opposite direction, to where I've just come from! The signage is poor, and that's putting it mildly.
I start walking but because it doesn't seem logical I soon grab another uniform who then confers with another one and finally one of them offers to take me there. He's a skinny little man who deftly dodges everyone, calling over his shoulder "fast now, ma'm, fast". Sound advice, but easier said than done as I am clearly invisible to other people who keep stepping in my way.
At last, he points me round the corner to the gate in question.
As I rush up to it, I find the glass door firmly shut and the sign above telling me that my flight has departed. I can't believe this is happening.
Suddenly, a family of four arrive, looking as horrified as I am. Then dad spots somebody outside the glass door and immediately starts pounding it until it gets opened up.
He yells "Delhi, Dehli" and pushes his family outside.
Aha. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Time to be more assertive and "Delhi, Delhi" I yell as I bustle through the door before it closes in my face and follow the others, brandishing my boarding pass.
I am grabbed by yet another little man in uniform, hand luggage is taken off me and pushed towards the mini bus standing there while a second little man fiddles with some papers, yanks the boarding pass out of my hand and gives me another one. With another big shove I'm bundled into the van.
I find it a tad disconcerting the way these skinny little individuals are shoving me around like ants a piece of.....well, you get the picture.
The only bit of seat available on the bus are a few centimeters on the edge of the bench seat facing the door. Two big men are sitting there, not offering me any space.
More assertiveness is obviously required here, so I lower myself and with an almighty heave, I push back until my rear end feels safely seated, blithely ignoring the indignant grunts.
Don't mess with an old lady!
The van takes off at great speed, weaving its way around the many obstacles on the tarmac until it comes to a halt at the bottom of a set of stairs. The driver shouts "Hong Kong". I nearly faint. But then one lady from somewhere in the back of the bus calls out and has to scramble over the top of everyone else. One would think she could have been placed a bit closer to the door. No, that would have been too easy and would have actually made sense.
After more frantic squiggles and loops, the bus finally stops again and this time we hear the magic word "Delhi".
The escort jumps out, pulls my wheelie bag out, drops it at the bottom of the steps and gives a flick of his head indicating for me to get up there. Enough messing with this old lady! I give him my dirtiest look and flick my head towards the top of the stairs. He actually gets the hint, grabs my bag and runs up ahead of me. It goes without saying that I thank him sweetly and profusely.
Blood pressure elevated and tongue just about hanging out, I drop into my seat completely exhausted. It is, after all, past midnight and a bit of dinner wouldn't go astray either!
Onward and upward, one would think, but no, the plane now has to sit there for another half hour before we're cleared for take off.
At last, we're in the air and dinner service commences. I order the vegetarian curry and eat the entree. As I wait for the main course, somebody comes to tell me that they have a specialty platter available and asks would I like to try. Sure, why not, I say, thinking that they have probably run out of my curry. The meal is very interesting and tasty and I really enjoy it. Soon after the empty dishes are removed, somebody arrives with the curry I had ordered! Pity, but I have to send it back.
Friday, August 10th, 2018
After some sleep and a cup of coffee, we land in Delhi. Blessed be Delhi. Everything seems orderly and well organized. Despite the fact that I have to go to a check in counter for my seat on the next flight, I have plenty of time to relax a while in the Maharajah Lounge and then board my flight to Colombo in a normal fashion.
Colombo, here I come. And here comes my big suitcase as well! Thank heaven for that. I had been a bit worried when the boarding pass was taken off me because that had been the one with the luggage ticket on the back. But I found a luggage ticket on the back of my new boarding pass later.
The airport is crowded and things seem a bit bedlam, but nobody hassles me and I go with the flow toward the exit where I find my friend Mahl waiting for me. Although we hadn't seen each other for over 20 years, we have no problem finding each other.
Mahl has organized a driver, so we can sit in the back of the car and do some catching up while he negotiates his way around the mad rush hour traffic.
All is well that ends well😊
