Planes, Trains & Small Automobiles: Sarabeth Arrives in Nairobi

Never tell the Blue Van Shuttle your actual flight departure time.
Never.
I used to know this, but apparently I forgot.
My Ethiopian Airlines flight was scheduled to leave Dulles at 10:05am Tuesday morning. But the powers that be at BlueVan.com seemed to think I could be picked up no later than 5:50am. FIVE FIFTY?
I should have defiantly said the flight was at 4pm or something.
The fact that being so early drives me absolutely nuts is admittedly ridiculous, but whatever. It does.
So I sat at the airport for three and a half hours.

I could tell it was going to be a good flight from the moment our plane pulled into the gate. Why? Because the two pilots had placed newspapers in the cockpit windows to keep from baking in the sun. Newspapers!
Now there’s a business idea: cockpit window shades.

The flight to Addis Ababa was advertised as direct, but this wasn’t entirely true. “Direct” actually meant “via Rome because we’re going to need more fuel.”
This was fine, except that we weren’t allowed to get off the plane in Rome. It was eight and a half hours to Rome, two on the ground at the Rome airport, then another five to Addis Ababa.

For the record, I really like saying “Addis Ababa.”

We arrived in Addis at 8am local time. As we were pulling into the gate, I found myself feeling rather scared. I had that complete internal freak-out I sometimes get when I travel. It's a feeling of intense fear, intense stress, intense newness. I'm familiar with it, but it always catches me off guard. I sat on the plane getting ready to make my way into the Addis airport thinking "Sarabeth, what the hell is wrong with you? What is this intense itch you have to do crazy things and repeatedly put yourself in uncomfortably situations? This probably isn't even safe...you're by yourself...you have no idea what you're in store for... WHAT IS THE DEAL??"
And then I gulp and just keep going.
I have to say, I really wonder if that itch will ever go away. It's bad.

Addis was a whole other world.
You can tell a lot about a country by its main airport. In Addis, the ceilings were relatively low, there was no décor...the shops were haphazardly lined up as though the architect basically just sneezed and this was what came flying out.

There was an inordinate amount of general BO, too, which isn't a good sign. People everywhere really need to start using deodorant.
I finally figured out where I needed to be in the airport, made it through security after a rather weird pat down (my bracelet proved too much for the scanner), and found one of the last seats at the gate.

It was right about this time the power in the airport went out, which doesn't instill confidence. It was all I could do to pull out my book and start reading. My cell phone was getting no service, so I couldn't text or call my mainstays. Amazing what grounding the ability to communicate at will gives me. When I saw that I couldn't - I thought I was going to freak out again.

But suddenly this well dressed African man - about my age – appeared beside me.
He pulled out his clearly American iPhone and starting talking on it! I was instantly mad, since I wanted to be talking and texting, too. I couldn't keep my mouth shut, and very crankily said, "how in the world do YOU have service?" He explained that he had a Kenyan number, and so it would work for him. But that led to a longer conversation, and he turned out to be a really cool guy! What’s more - he lives on Seminary Road in Alexandria – approximately four miles from me. Now what are the odds of meeting someone who lives 4 miles from you in Addis Ababa?
He works for Al Jazeera and we know a couple common people. Amazing. I hung out with him for about 2.5 hours (my flight was delayed due to fog and rain), and now we're friends.

Two hours later I landed in Nairobi.
Being the high maintenance person that I am, I had refused to send my passport away in advance to secure a Kenyan Visa. I don’t like being without it. I assumed (and had read) that I would easily be able to purchase a visa at the airport, but sitting on the plane I suddenly felt ill. What if I couldn’t get a visa and was sent home? Another freak out.
It passed.

I got off the plane and found myself in a beautiful airport! Everyone there was so kind and helpful, and I made it through the visa line quickly. No problem whatsoever. For $25 they were willing to let me in and let me stay for awhile.

Down at baggage claim, I quickly found my big backpack, but my large suitcase was nowhere to be found. I have a God-awful fluorescent pink luggage tag on the bag that screams in bold print “This is My Bag,” so I couldn’t imagine it would be missing. Yet…I didn’t see it.
Finally a concerned-looking airline attendant came over and asked if I had a lost bag. At this point I was so tired that a missing bag seemed like no big deal, and I just nodded. We talked for a bit, and then he had me talk to another guy. This went on for about 20-30 minutes, when my bag nonchalantly rolled around the belt.
Thrilled, I said “Hey! My Bag! Yay!”
The two men exchanged glances and then burst out laughing.
“That bag has been rolling around the belt for the last half hour, miss.”
Great.
Apparently I was more tired than I thought. ☺

Within 10 minutes I was in a taxi heading for Nairobi. The cab driver pointed out four giraffes grazing less than a mile from the airport. I almost died! Giraffes at the airport!
Minutes later, out of the corner of my eye I saw something large flying over head. For absolutely no good reason, my first thought was “oh wow! A pterodactyl!”
Um. Right.
My next thought was “stupid! They’ve been extinct for years.” Then – “it looks like a flying deer.”
Clearly my brain wasn’t working.
I finally asked the driver about it, and he looked surprised. “You don’t have those?”
NO!!
He explained that they were giant storks – apparently quite common.
Too bad they weren’t flying deer. I would have been incredibly excited about that.
He pointed out a tree nearby that was apparently the giant storks’ known hangout. It was the funniest looking site I’ve seen. Giant storks COVERED this poor little tree. It looked like something out of a Dr. Suess book.

Traffic was bad, so the driver and I had time to make friends. He ended up taking me to a local mall and hooked me up with a cheap little cell phone. It was amazing!
I lucked out.

From there he dropped me off at the Hilton. Getting into the Hilton was quite the feat, however. An armed guard inspects every car that is let into the parking area – using a metal detector and a mirror that lets them see under the car.

The wonderful people at Hilton upgraded me, and I settled into my 12th floor room that overlooked the city.

Emily and Dami arrived at 10:45pm. Dami stayed with some friends that night and Emily stayed with me at the Hilton. Within 15 minutes we were at the bar in the hotel with glasses of red wine.

Cheers to being in Africa!
We made it!