The 2020 Africa Journals

 Chapter Two:

                   Two Lessons of the Expensive Kind

 Tricks of the Trade:

"Would you like to pay in Euros or Dollars?" asked the hotel clerk as I checked out of my room in Amsterdam.

My Capital One Master Card doesn't charge for foreign transactions, so I opted for dollars after checking that the bill was correct. The clerk quickly offered to help me with my baggage to the airport shuttle bus, which was a half block away by a round-about route.

When I later checked the credit card receipt, I saw the exchange rate not only wasn't favorable, but there was an added 3% currency exchange charge that upped the bill another five bucks.   There was a notation on the receipt:   "I accept that I have been offered a choice of currencies for payment and that this choice is final."

Lesson: Always pay in the local currency if your credit card doesn't charge for foreign transactions.

Reciprocity:

Kenya charges fifty US dollars for an entry visa, payable only in cash and with a new or like-new bill.   No folds, tears, or marks are allowed.   Done.

However, this unsophisticated traveler didn’t know there was such a thing as a “transit” visa, which was only $20.  We were staying in Nairobi for only for about eight hours. 

My route to Nairobi, Kenya, on KLM.

Airplane food.   The chicken was pretty good,

 

A sweet touch.   A chocolate heart for Valentine's Day.

 

Breakfast:   egg, potatoes, muffin.

Flowers in the lobby of Crowne Plaza, Nairobi, where we stayed for four hours after an interminable check-in process.

We would be in this nice hotel for only a few hours, but after a long flight it was worth it for the shower and a couple hours sleep.   But first, we met downstairs in the lounge to celebrate our arrival in Africa with Amarula on the rocks.

O'Dark-Thirty.   It was nice to find a 24-hour coffee shop off the hotel lobby.   Mary's bargaining for something here.

Then we were to fly to Victoria Falls Airport in Zimbabwe where we would be picked up and driven to Pangolin Hotel in Botswana for a five-day stay.

We would be in Zimbabwe for less than two hours.   The entry visa was $45 for US citizens.

Everywhere we went there were people with thermal sensors pointed at our foreheads.

In the Zimbabwe airport:    They need a better taxidermist.

 

Marg and leopard

Me with leopard.

 

Mary with lion and impala.

When we returned to Zimbabwe after our stay in Botswana, I again paid $45 for an entry visa.   This time, we were flying back to Nairobi, stayed only at the airport, and the time was less than three hours.

Our driver, left, at passport control between Zimbabwe and Botswana.

Mary stepping in a tray of decontaminating fluid

I was going to take a photo of the border control gate but thought better of it.   It was basic--several pieces of pipe of various diameters stuck together and with a large chunk of irregular concrete attached to one end.   When you were allowed passage, a man released a rope from one end of the pipe, the concrete weight pulled the pipe down and the rope end up.   Simple, basic, and inexpensive.

Flowering tree at the border.

 Once arriving in Nairobi, I again paid the $50 entry visa.   I was not told there was a transit visa for $20 the first time.   Marg was.

However, as a Canadian, Marg had to pay $75 TWICE for the two entries into Zimbabwe.   She could have used her valid British passport and paid much less.

The visa fees are reciprocal.  Canadians charge those from Zimbabwe the same amount.  Likewise, the US charges Kenyans $50 and Zimbabweans $30.

Lesson:   Always ask about transit visas if you’re just passing through.


And now, we are finally in Botswana at the beautiful Pangolin hotel.   I hope you were able to keep track of the story with all the verb tense changes in this story.

Marg and Mary celebrating our arrival in Pangolin in Botswana with, of course, a double Amarula on the rocks.   Mine is waiting for me.   See you later.

 

 

The 2020 Africa Journals

Chapter One:  

The Outward Journey and How It Almost Didn't Happen

This is ridiculous, I admitted to myself.   I can’t go to Africa with an unusable right leg.  How would I manage the airports with their long walks?   How can I climb into the high safari vehicles?

And what about the pain itself?   

Reluctantly, I made my painful way up the stairs to the computer.  My trip was already paid in advance and that was a lot of money to forfeit.

The leg problem began in mid-December when I noticed some stiffness in and around the right knee.   By the end of the month, that stiffness had exploded into excruciating pain in the knee and walking was all but impossible.

In mid-January, I had a dental appointment in Anchorage, but not one for the knee problem.  Finally fed up, I staggered into an urgent care facility where the knee was x-rayed.

The doctor explained I had an old injury in which one of the horns at the top of the tibia had broken off.   It recently moved into a position to irritate the hell out of everything in its range.

The cure?   No weight on the leg for ten days and a prescription dose of Motrin.   Well, that’s a hoot.   About as impossible as climbing into a safari vehicle in my current situation.

By the time I left Anchorage, I had crutches and a walker stuffed into the back seats with my groceries.   No sooner did I whine on Facebook about the diagnosis/treatment, than my neighbor Shawn called and offered to keep me supplied with firewood.  That meant he came over once a day, loaded up from the back of the truck parked in the heated, attached garage and piled up the wood around my living room woodstove.

Soon, he was joined by Terri and between the two of them, I was able to avoid that chore and the stairs involved.  After about ten days, the knee was acceptable.   Not right, but acceptable.  As for staying off it for ten days?   Never happened, but I found that if I kept the leg perfectly straight, I could manage to walk without too much discomfort.

At the computer, my reluctance was almost palpable. After some research, I spent almost $1400 on trip insurance with no look back for prior medical conditions.   A lot of money, to be sure, but a pittance to what I would lose if I couldn’t go.

I also took the precaution of requesting wheelchair assistance in all the airports I would pass through, both going and returning.  That was a fortuitous stroke of genius.   My knee still hurt, but being wheeled to the front of all the immigration and customs lines, wheeled to the distant gates, wheeled to the baggage claim areas:   priceless.  I don’t think I could have done it on foot.

Alaska Airlines wing tip art

My route took me from home in Moose Pass to Anchorage by truck, where I overnighted at the Dimond Center Hotel as I had an early morning Alaska Airlines flight to Seattle and didn’t want to chance being caught behind an accident or avalanche that closed the highway to Anchorage.   It’s a practice I follow often.

From Seattle, I flew Icelandair to Reykjavik, Iceland, changed planes, and flew on to Amsterdam, where I once again spent the night, this time at the Park Inn.   Though the hotel provides a free shuttle in cooperation with several other hotels, the bus is too large to enter the hotel’s drive so it drops off passengers on the street.   It also isn’t a straight walk to the front entrance.   You have to drag your luggage around an open, lower-level car park. 

 

Looking out of my room window, the shuttle bus stop is around the lower level car park opening, down the drive ramp, and next to the bright light just right of center.

All-in-all, about a half-block walk over paving bricks.

My very nice room.

Over the bed decor.

Part of the fun of travel is figuring out how things work.   This inconspicuous clear device turns the floor lamp on and off.

At left, a light switch.   At right, insert your room key card to turn on the electricity in the room.  You always know where your key is and it saves electricity when you aren't in the room.

Big flush, little flush.

The variety of shower controls can be mind-boggling.

But, I was now in Amsterdam where—in the morning—I would go to Schiphol airport and meet Marg Woods and Mary Baures for our flight to Nairobi, Kenya.

So far, so good.  A good night’s sleep, a nice breakfast buffet, and front desk assistance to haul my bags to the shuttle stop.   

Cereals of many kinds

Breads and cold cuts.

Hot dishes:   eggs, potatoes, baked beans, etc.

Beverages

Nice dining room.

On my way!

 

Home Again

Back home from a couple weeks in Botswana and Kenya.   Trying to get caught up on sleep and laundry, so I'll be with you here later.

In the meantime:

A beautiful male impala along the Chobe River Botswana.

Sunrise, Maasai Mara, Kenya.

Two male impala, Chobe River, Botswana

A cheetah welcomes the morning sun.   Maasai Mara, Kenya

An elephant leaves the Chobe River after an evening bath.

Eye of a crocodile.   Chobe River, Botswana

Hippo, Chobe River, Botswana

Male kudu in the light of the setting sun.

Semi-Serious Question

Why do you suppose they are called song sparrows?

To Change, or Not to Change? That is the question.

I've been thinking that my blog site needs a format updating, but I really like the birds flying in this format.

There are many formats from which to choose, but none of them rocks my boat.

So, let's try this one.   White on a dark background is hard to read, though.

On the other hand, this blog has been going on for a long, long time.   I feel it's grown stale.   People today take little time to read the kind of stories I write.   They like nice, short, to-the-point messages.

Few leave a comment to let me know they're out there.    

Maybe it's time for a sabbatical; maybe it's time to drop the whole thing.


What do you think?