07-29-04
by Britney
Phoenix, Arizona to London

"I heard my name being announced, and it became apparent that I was the last person to board my flight..."

I am on the British Airways Jumbo Jet right now, after eating a quesadilla from Oaxaca at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport--at that time, I realized my flight number was not 1845 as I had originally thought, but instead, that was military time for gate closure. I had merely five minutes to make my way across the airport, get through security, and make my way to the gate (which just happened to be the very farthest gate possible).

Upon entering terminal 4B, I heard my name being announced, and it became apparent that I was the last person to board my flight, and in fact, the plane was waiting solely for me. The gate attendant thought I just wanted my 10 seconds of fame by being called over the loud speakers.

My bike made it through check-in. The anal lady surprisingly did not check the weight, which I am rather happy about, since doing so would have incurred me a hefty fine of up to $300! Upon asking how heavy my huge plastic box was, I insisted it was merely a bike case, and was light enough to be carried by me, and interestingly enough, she trusted me, allowing this strategy to work. Now that I am on board, we are prepared to take off, heading straight to London/Heathrow. I wish they'd turn the air conditioning on, considering I just ran a marathon to get to the gate (good training for Kilimanjaro!).

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07-30-04
by Britney
London/Heathrow

"[I] nearly got mobbed by angry KLM customers assuming I was cutting..."

Well, I'm in London/Heathrow now. I spent several hours waiting for Chrissy, Anne's niece. I realized while waiting, I had not a clue as to who she was or what she looked like; hence, my chances of spotting "a girl with dirty blond hair" were slim to none. I set up camp, put on my comfy Kilimanjaro fleece, and laid in the middle of the airport floor. Armed with the description "she looks like Angelina Jolie with a bike," Chrissy did eventually spot me. Chrissy was super cool, and treated me to Starbucks. We spoke about the zodiac and its influence on relationships.

I wanted to get rid of my bike box, because it was annoyingly large and inconvenient to lug around. I walked in the "Kenya Airways" economy line, which ran right smack through the extremely lengthy KLM line, and nearly got mobbed by angry KLM customers assuming I was cutting in their line. I came back at around 5pm after several hours of hearing, "that is one large piece of luggage" from bystanders.

At the Kenya Airways desk, the clerk looked horrified by the size of my bike box. She asked how big it was, and on scout's honor, I assured her it must be under 70lbs., because British Airways had let me ship it for free. (Even though I'm not a scout. Well, at least it didn't matter if I broke their code of honor then!) She agreed with my logic with a puzzled look and raised brow, obviously concerned that I could possibly be downright wrong in my calculations, and then proceeded to allow me to personally lift my own "underweight box" onto the conveyer belt. I took great effort into making this task look seemingly effortless. I then had to ask her for help...

I am now waiting for my gate to be announced and forbidding myself from buying any useless trinkets which will only occupy much needed space in my bike panniers. I hope on my next flight, I have such cool neighbors as my previous ones--they were an incomprehensible Scottish couple who sounded very similar to the hen in the movie "Chicken Run". It would usually take me a few trips to the restroom before I would finally understand the one word punch line to their often funny, but very misunderstood, jokes.

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07-31-04
by Britney
Kenya Airways

"It seems airport security feels I might tweeze someone to death..."

I didn't get so lucky on Kenya Airways in regards to my neighbors. I didn't get the window seat that I had anticipated, and I got stuck next to some relatively obnoxious British/African kid who had her dad completely whipped.

Kenya Airways is an awesome airline (although, since returning from my trip, I have come to realize, it is only their new jet that was added to the fleet in May of 04, which I just happened to be riding on, that is cool). The plane is comfy, the service is great, and the entertainment system and technology is superb. The flight was about nine hours long on a 777, passing such exotic lands as Libya, the Sudan, and eventually landing in Nairobi, Kenya. I have another six-hour layover, so I've gone to an Internet café and exchanged some traveler's checks into Tanzania shillings. I like how I handed over US$100 and received 100,000 shillings in return!

The Internet business is a wise one to start up in Africa. Charge small denominations from American travelers each minute, and then just ensure a very crappy and extremely slow connection. Cha CHING...

The man at the foreign exchange bureau seemed entertained by the plans for my ultimate African adventure--he smiled upon hearing about my upcoming bike ride and plans of hiking Kilimanjaro. I will pretend this smile represented his faith in my abilities and not the lack thereof.

Some African woman told me she liked my figure, and people continue to look awkwardly at my legs. Hmm--it seems shorts are not the accepted norm in these parts. My bad...

I would like nothing more than some M & M's from a duty free shop right now--but they only come in 5lbs. bags! I must refrain. My impulsive eating habits, chocolate, and the African toilet system do not make for a wise combination.

So, I'm sitting in a cafe at the end of the airport terminal, seeing how long I can sit, watch the news on the American elections, read, write, people-watch, occupy space, and NOT buy anything...

I've noticed something interesting--just a simple observation--but it appears all Western travelers come to Africa in pairs. Maybe I am doing something wrong? The only single travelers seem to be Africans (assumption) and male (rather visibly obvious).

Well, I'm growing increasingly tired, yet have three hours until I board my continuing Kenya Airways flight to Zanzibar. The terminal is getting busy and there are few seats left.

Swahili is spoken everywhere and M & M's continue to taunt me. In fact, there are 32 5lbs. bags sitting before me. I am not hungry; I am tired. But seeing no sleep in sight, eating is the next best thing. Eating sugar is better still. Seems Kenyans have some fetish with these M & M's-they have three packs, dispensers, 5lbs. bags of minis, lunch boxes adorned with little M & M characters--but no single packs!

Hmm, a flight is leaving for Zanzibar right now (which I found out later, was the very flight Chris Porter was on, although I and you, at this point, have yet to know who he is). No more positive comments for my travel agent--he should have booked me on that flight!

Agh! I fell asleep, leaving my bag quite open and vulnerable to the numerous opportunities for theft. I was awoken by a medical representative and his comrade from Uganda. We spoke about virtual companies and the job market in America. He was concerned that I was going to sleep through my flight, and sure enough, after speaking with him at length, I did almost miss the flight after all. I, again, was the last person onboard--this seems to be a reoccurring theme. I easily passed through security, even after setting off the alarm. Yet, both pairs of my tweezers were confiscated after making their way all the way around the world, as it seems airport security feels I might tweeze someone to death with them.

Well, I am on the plane to Zanzibar right now, munching on a veggie sandwich and guzzling OJ, when low and behold, a grand image is for the first time appearing before my very eyes--the snowy top of Kilimanjaro, rising above the clouds. Holy mother of I don't even know what...gulp!! That is one BIG mountain!

Even more intimidating still, I've finished my lunch, read a bit...we're still flying and have quite some time before we reach Zanzibar. And it was at this very moment that I realized, all the land we have just passed...and will continue to cover...must be BIKED across. Double gulp.

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07-31-04
by Chris
Melbourne, Australia to Dubai, UAE

"We had to abort our normal landing schedule and attempt an emergency landing..."

I woke up this morning and spent the entire day preparing for the trip which departs at 9:20pm tonight. I spoke to my friend David on the phone and invited him to the airport for my departure but he did not think he would be able to get there.

After managing to cram my bike box and additional luggage into the car, we traveled by car the 'back way' to the airport in order to avoid heavy traffic. We arrived 3 hours early, and I checked my baggage in at the counter immediately. It was nice to get rid of that big bike box! Now I only have my extremely heavy carry-on bag which still digs into my shoulder, but is acceptable since I don't have lug additional bags around everywhere I go. We had strategically packed my bags so that I could take everything necessary for the trip, but also so that it weighed as little as possible. I'm flying with Emirates, and they have a limit for checked baggage; 20kg per passenger in economy class, but my bike and bike bag alone weighed that much. And at $48 per additional kilogram, I was expecting to be charged hundreds for the extra weight. Surprisingly though, the woman at the check-in counter casually gave the nod and simply allowed both of my checked bags through without a second glance! She then looked at my carry on bag and said, "Don't bother weighing it. It looks light enough to carry on board. " This was very good because I really couldn't have afforded hundreds of extra dollars on top of the thousands this trip was already costing!

Anyhow, after checking my bags in, Mum, Dad, and I went to get something to eat at the airport food court. We ate dinner while looking out the window as the planes refueled. Then we went out to the departure lounge area and sat down on the seats while we waited for my flight to Dubai to start boarding. After a few minutes, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see if someone actyally was tapping me, or if my arm was perhaps falling off due to the heavy strap of my carry-on bag. To my surprise, the firmly tapping hand was connected to an arm which, upon following it upwards, I discovered belonged to Denise, who was standing next to her spouse, David! They had made it to the airport to see me off and watch my plane depart (and hopefully get some photos of the event!) We all talked for about 45 minutes until the boarding call for my flight was announced. Then I said farewell to everyone, turned around and took those few solitary steps through the departure gates.

Now I was on the other side. This was it! From this point on, I was by myself until I got to Zanzibar. The road set out before me was filled with challenges and little sleep, but I was determined to take each step at a time. I boarded the flight and was semi-ushered to my seat. There is an empty seat next to me, and the next seat over there is a British girl from New Zealand and another New Zealand lady is sitting next to her. Emirates seems like a pretty sophisticated airline... their onboard entertainment system is cool, and offers many new-ish movies (such as "Man on Fire", "Secret Window", and many more) for passenger perusal. It also contains classics and heaps of excellent Disney movies. I started watching "The Lion King" in anticipation of our Tanzanian adventure, but it was interrupted all too soon by the on-board safety video. At this point I noticed that the plane was taxiing down the runway... the take-off process was underway. Unfortunately, the take-off runway camera on this plane wasn't functioning. Once we were in the air, I looked at the entertainment system again. The movies could be restarted from the beginning at any point by the viewer. Emirates also had the capabilities to send SMS messages, emails, faxes, and make satellite phone calls... for a hefty fee of $5 US per minute!

After a few hours into the flight, some intoxicated English guy walked down the aisle and proceeded to squeeze past me and sit in the vacant seat. Damn it! I was enjoying the extra leg and arm space. And he smelled like booze, too. Without a pause, he immediately started trying to chat up the British girl in the other seat next to him. I glanced at his hand and saw a wedding ring on his finger. Eventually, after about 45 minutes, he got up and returned to his own seat. Relief ensued from everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Unfortunately, this relief was to be short-lived, because he returned again an hour later--even more drunk, clumsier, smellier, and sleazier than before! Again, he squeezed passed me, and for the second time his buttocks brushed against my face as he passed my seat. By this time, my fists were clenched! He sat down again, looked at me, gave me a nudge with his elbow and then signaled with his eyes towards the British girl--who was now sleeping. With that, he turned over to her side and flopped himself over her! His arm draped completely over her and his face was literally breathing down her neck! It was pretty funny, yet disturbing to see. Of the 380+ seats on board the plane, this guy had to come and sit in the vacant seat next to me! I had originally planned to sleep a bit on this flight because I had a very long journey ahead of me and I had to keep my wits about me - but that option looked like it was now out of the question. Eventually the British girl woke up and pushed the guy off her. He soon moved back onto her again... she looked up and gave me a funny look... then we started using sign language to try and figure out how to get the guy to go back to his own seat. Suddenly he sat up quickly, without warning - like some zombie in a horror movie! We both stopped the sign language immediately, faced forwards, and started acting casually. I said to the guy, "Uh, where's your seat?" He said, "over there?", and I said, "uh, shouldn't you be over THERE then?", but then he mumbled something inaudible and fell back asleep. An hour later, he woke up; much sobered, turned to me and said, "thanks for keeping an eye on me back there, mate. I had a bit too much to drink!" Then he got up and went back to his own seat and never returned to our part of the plane for the remainder of the flight.

Towards the end of the flight, they were serving the final meal when the Middle Eastern pilot announced in very hard-to-understand English, "we have had a technical problem. This service will now be aborted." Everyone looked around and started wondering what the hell was going on. Was the plane going down? Were we no longer going to Dubai and were headed back to Melbourne? He had been a bit sketchy on the specifics. Soon, we discovered that it was his limited English skills that had caused him to convey the wrong message. Apparently we were not under siege in any way and not required to turn around. He was simply referring to the meal service being terminated. The reason for this turned out to be that someone on the plane developed some kind of medical emergency--presumably a deep-vein thrombosis blood clot. They announced a call over the PA for any nurses or doctors on board to make their way to the back of the plane to help out. Luckily, the woman seated behind me was a nurse and answered the call of duty. We had to abort our normal landing schedule and attempt an emergency landing at Dubai International Airport in the United Arab Emirates. Suddenly, the plane went into a swift nose-dive --it felt like a roller coaster plummeting towards earth, as we descended towards an alternate runway at light speed. The plane landed earlier than scheduled, and before we were allowed to disembark, a number of paramedics and doctors were permitted onboard and made their way to the back of the plane, where the casualty was located.

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07-31-04
by Chris
Dubai, UAE

"The first thing I saw upon stepping through the air bridge was... McDonalds!"

I looked out the window of the plane. I could see Dubai stretching out as far as the eye could see. It is now around 5am in the morning here and even though the sun had not yet risen, the humidity and heat hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane. I'm still wearing my winter attire from Melbourne, so that adds to the general discomfort of having been on a non-stop 14-hour flight without any sleep! The heat waves shimmer across the desert and outside, it looks like a dust storm is going on-- but this just seems to be some kind of illusion created by the huge expanse of desert and the cloudless morning sky. I made my way into the airport, and the first thing I saw upon stepping through the air bridge was... McDonalds! I went through customs and located the gate number for my next stopover flight to Nairobi in Kenya. Upon verifying that I had the correct gate number in my sleepless state of mind, I went off to explore the airport. First I called mum on my mobile phone to let her know that I had arrived in Dubai. I tried to call David too, but his phone went to voicemail. Then I went around and explored the HUGE airport a bit. I didn't get to see much because I still had this heavy carry-on bag to take around with me, and it severely hampered my ability to walk anywhere conveniently. I went to the Foreign Exchange terminal and exchanged some of my US currency for United Arab Emirates currency. Having no idea what the exchange rate was, nor how much the local currency was worth, I went off in search of a bottle of pure water with which to drink with my anti-malarial pills. I quickly found a trendy café which was able to fulfill this request. After that, I decided to conserve my energy since I would likely not be sleeping for a long, long time. So I went to the gate, showed my boarding pass and waited in the lounge until 8:20am for my flight to leave. In the meantime, I read a review article on "Doom 3" in a magazine I had bought. This would likely be the last contact with anything remotely Western for quite some time.

Finally the flight started boarding and we were underway to Nairobi. This time, I sat next to another British woman who was also visiting Africa for the first time. Her 24-year-old daughter worked in a West African country, teaching school kids voluntarily. She was not going to Africa to visit her daughter though--just on a tour group trip with her friend. We had some interesting conversations to help pass the time (besides, this Emirates flight had a much smaller selection of movies, and they all run to a strictly scheduled time slot... plus my TV was reduced to black & white and I was growing too tired to stare at the screen.)

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07-31-04
by Chris
Nairobi, Kenya

"My travel agent had only allowed ONE hour for me to get off this plane, get through customs, and board my plane to Zanzibar..."

Finally, we reached Nairobi and the woman disembarked. I waited on the plane while it refueled for its ongoing flight to Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania. The stewards came down the aisles, tidying things up, and a few more passengers came on board. The flight took off again an hour later, and the plane was relatively empty now. I had vacant seats surrounding me on all sides this time... luxury...I could even put my feet up. I turned on the TV on my seat, and the one on the seat next to me and changed both channels to show the views of the plane's nose and the camera facing downwards, respectively. These cameras were fun to watch whenever the plane took off or landed. After a fairly uneventful flight, we soon started approaching Dar Es Salaam airport. By this time, I was so beyond tired that I was actually wide awake, but it was probably just a false sense of perception. I didn't know if I was even aware of what was going on around me anymore, and I hoped that the remainder of my journey to Zanzibar will be uneventful because I didn't want to have to think too much! I used the last few minutes to fill in my passenger arrival card with a pen that I had borrowed from some Arab guy a few seats back. The plane landed at Dar Es Salaam without any drama. I was fully aware that my travel agent had only allowed ONE hour for me to get off this plane, go through customs, and board my plane to Zanzibar. And the fact that the Dar Es Salaam flight arrived about 15 minutes later than scheduled made me antsy to get off as soon as possible.

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07-31-04
by Chris
Dar es Salaam

"This is where things started to go to hell..."

I zigzagged between seats, cutting across the aisles to get out of there ASAP. Back in Dubai, while waiting for the flight to start boarding, I had overheard an African woman telling someone on her phone that she was meeting a connecting flight to Zanzibar as soon as the plane landed. Assuming that she must be on the same flight as me, I made it my mission to try and follow this woman as closely as possible so that I did not miss my flight. Of all places, I didn't want to have to spend a night in Dar Es Salaam and then have to meet up with the I-bike tour group the next day, as that would make things very difficult!

As we were preparing to exit the flight into Dar Es Salaam airport, I spotted the same woman. I couldn't get any closer to where she was, and by the time I got off the plane and into the customs area, it was overly crowded and the woman was somewhere near the very front of the line, while I was all the way at the back. This is where things started to go to hell. I now had about 10 minutes before my Zanzibar flight departed. So I decided to try and cut directly to the front of the line. First in line was some muscular dude with a tattoo and a shaved head. I thought, "hmm, this guy looks too tough. I can't ask him!" So I decided being second in line wasn't so bad. I approached a skinnier-looking European kid and asked him if I could cut in front of him, as my plane left in 5 minutes. He kind of groaned and shrugged and finally came out with something that resembled, "I don't know... ask the people," and then gestured towards the long line behind him.

Suddenly, the muscle-bound man in the front chimed in and said, "yeah, mate, you can jump in front of me!" To my good fortune, this rough-looking guy just happened to be an Australian citizen who had heard my accent and decided to have mercy on me! I thanked him and he said that he was glad to offer assistance. Without delay, a grumpy German woman approached me and started yelling at me for cutting in line. I politely told her than my flight was about to leave in a couple of minutes and she hung her head in shame, apologized and retreated back to her place somewhere near the end of the line. Anyhow, I got to the desk, showed the official my passport (after all the trouble of getting vaccinations, they don't even require the Yellow Fever Certificate anymore...arggh!). He stamped it and I was through to the other side. I had calculated that, by getting through customs early, this would allow me to quickly grab my bags and make a dash for the Zanzibar flight. Unfortunately, my bags were nowhere to be seen! There were bags and luggage all over the floor, and searching them all, I still could not find my distinctive bike bag and backpack. With no time to spare, I located an airport worker (they stood out because they all wore fluorescent yellow jackets), and asked her if she could locate my bag. She took my baggage ticket number from me and went out the back area to take a look for it. I waited impatiently and she returned after a little while and told me to go see a woman at some window in the corner. She pointed in the direction of the woman and I quickly ran over there.

The woman in question was having an in-depth argument with a male co-worker in Swahili. I waited in silence until the man walked off shaking his head in disagreement several minutes later. The woman finally gave me her undivided attention. I told her of the troubles I was having locating my bag and that my Zanzibar flight was on the verge of leaving. She took my ticket and told me to wait where I was. Finally, she returned and told me that my luggage had been checked all the way to Zanzibar, and was already on the next flight. I found this strange, because previously, I had been told that I'd have to collect and re-check the luggage to Zanzibar myself. She assured me that all I needed to do was show my ticket and get onto the next flight, and that my luggage would be waiting for me when I arrived in Zanzibar. Skeptical, I turned to walk away, and in doing so, I noticed my backpack and bike bag come out on the conveyer belt!!! Here!!! At Dar Es Salaam!!!! I informed the woman behind the window that they'd arrived, and she nodded. Apparently she was talking to someone else now.

No sooner than I grabbed my bags off the conveyer belt, than another man wearing an official yellow jacket came over to me with a cart, put my heavy bags onto them, and offered to push them around for me. "What a friendly gesture," I thought. Little did I realize that being friendly actually had very little to do with it. The guy was actually wanting to relieve tired travelers of their money by way of being tipped! The guy asked where I was going, and I told him about my waiting Zanzibar flight. He informed me that the flight in question had, sadly, already departed... and then without warning, he took off, pushing the cart outside the airport doors and into Tanzania itself! I had no choice but to follow him ouside. The moment I got out those doors, there were people sitting on benches and smaller airline ticket windows surrounded the outside walls. Crowds of sinister-looking, shady characters started swarming around me, offering me safari deals and eyeing my expensive-looking luggage. I guess even some of the airport officials are corrupt here! It turns out that the guy pushing my cart must have been trying to exploit my unfortunate situation and cut his friends in on the deal!

Pretty soon, some slick-looking characters approached me; they looked very 'well to do' for citizens living in one of the poorest countries in the world. They wore new Nike brand clothing, and one had a brand new Nokia mobile phone hanging around his neck. These guys said that they heard I had missed my Zanzibar flight, but not to worry, as they could get me another flight today. Then they scattered off in all directions, going to different ticket windows and disappearing through doors, and I really started to wonder whether it was safe out here, and if these guys could even be trusted. There was no doubt that I had definitely missed my Zanzibar flight, so I decided to take my chances and see if these guys could get me another flight there before sunset. My travel agent had told me that there were no more flights to Zanzibar today, so I didn't get my hopes up. Eventually the shady men returned and told me that they had found me a flight. They then engaged me in idle chit-chat about where I was from, etc. I kept my guard about me the entire time and kept a close eye on my baggage. One of these characters, a guy in an orange shirt, seemed semi-hostile, but kept his tone down because he knew he could make some money if he remained polite. His cohort, a skinnier, and seemingly more pleasant and welcoming fellow, was more eager to engage in polite conversation --whether to be friendly or try to rob me blind, I don't know! Eventually, the woman from the original window inside came out and said, "I thought I told you to wait inside!" (Well, she did originally say that, but then she said I could board the flight... sooo?). She came out and handed a piece of paper to a man behind another window of the Air Tanzania ticket desk, and he went away for a while. Finally, he returned with a re-issued ticket for my flight to Zanzibar, which departed at the new time of 4:30pm... so I had some time to kill. At this point, Brit and the rest of the group were probably wondering where I was. I was supposed to already be at the Garden Inn Lodge!

In order to pass the time, the two shady characters invited me to sit with them on a bench and wait till my plane arrived. I sat down, but quickly noticed that my luggage was positioned behind my back where I could not see it very well. I stood up again and turned to face it. I noticed a little kid edging his way closer and staring at my things. He didn't speak any English, but when he disappeared and then returned with cigarettes for the skinner cohort, I learned that he was the nephew of this guy. The kid asked me to sign a pledge paper of some sort, and held it up to my face with a pen, speaking in Swahili. It already had various signatures on it. But I had read somewhere that this is often a robbery tactic used to divert your attention. While you're busy signing the paper, they'll work as a group and someone else will steal items from your bags or pick your pocket. So I told the kid "no." That didn't stop him from continuing to ask, so I just ignored him. My flight time was drawing near, so I decided to check in and get away from the disreputable company that I was keeping. I gave them a tip of $10 US for finding me a flight (which they argued about having to split between them and tried to exploit more money from me). Their eyes opened wide as I unavoidably pulled my money out in public, and after tipping them, I got out of there with all of my luggage and money still intact!

On the other side of the terminal, I met a young couple from Israel who had been in Tanzania for a while and were also traveling on the same flight to Zanzibar as me. They were ending their trip here. I asked them for any advice on dealing with the locals when it came to tipping and avoiding shady deals. They recommended screaming at people in Hebrew and said it works wonders for them. Unfortunately for me, I don't speak Hebrew, and so I decided to just try and rely on witty comments and assertive behavior to get by. As I was walking through to the ticket counter, the conman who had pushed my cart outside came up and grabbed my cart again and started pushing it for me to the security checkpoint. He even had the nerve to ask for a tip. Since I was so tired and just wanted to get out of there, I gave him some small amount to keep the peace and get him out of my face. Once through, I waited in the lounge area for the plane to arrive. I bought a refreshing ice-cold bottle of coke and paid for it in US dollars. I received my change in Tanzanian shillings!

Another airport official approached and I eyed him up and down cautiously--Clint Eastwood style, wondering if this man was friend... or foe. To my surprise, this guy was cool. He just wanted to have a chat while I was waiting for the plane to arrive. His name was Michael, and he didn't want any money or tips or anything... We talked about Kilimanjaro and I told him our plans to scale it. He informed me that we WOULD succeed. I also tried out my very limited Swahili on him, and he seemed impressed. Finally, the plane to Zanzibar arrived. It was small. Had noisy propellers. The inside of it looked like an old school bus. The wings seemed to be made of plastic; they had cracks and fissures all over them and were even being reinforced with duct tape in some places! But I just wanted to get to Zanzibar, and this thing was capable of getting me there fast. I reasoned that if it hadn't crashed yet, then it was very unlikely that it would crash on the very next flight. And the pilot was Australian too, so that must have subconsciously reassured me in some way. After flying very low and seeing some awesome sights of the bay area from above, I arrived safely in Zanzibar 25 minutes later. To call the Zanzibar airport an 'airport' is almost humorous, as it's little more than a square room. I collected my stuff, went outside and got a taxi to the garden lodge hotel. More tips were given out to porters and taxi drivers alike. I had now given away US$30 on tips! At this rate, I'll have no money left by the end of the day!

In due course, I arrived at the Garden Lodge Hotel. The taxi driver waited for me while I enquired about the whereabouts of the bike group. The man behind the counter did not seem to know what I was talking about, and just tried to offer me a room. I kept telling him that I already had a room and was supposed to be meeting people here, but he continued to act like he was unaware of what I was speaking about. Finally, I said, "Americans?" and he said, "oh yes!" and pointed outside. I walked in the direction of his pointing finger and met Jeromé, the tour leader. Jacki, Mary, and the other Chris (Porter) were also present-- but Brit was nowhere to be seen! The group told me that Britney had cancelled her I-bike trip and from the amount of bad luck I'd had so far, I just shrugged it off and put it down to yet another thing that had gone wrong for me today...something which I would not fully comprehend until I had woken up after a good night's sleep! But their conscience just wouldn't allow them to maintain this trickery, as they soon told me that they were only kidding.

We made our way to the Annex hotel and Brit was sleeping. We collected her and traveled to the Dolphin Café where we had dinner. I didn't want to eat, as I had eaten well on the plane, but Jeromé insisted. He then proceeded to order me a most unique dish that had some kind of tangy meat mixed with what tasted like potato. It also had a grinding consistency to it, which I couldn't put my finger on. I later discovered that the 'delicacy' was ground-up fish--scales included. Yuck! Sometimes it's better NOT finding out what you're eating here! I also hope the term "dolphin café" is not to be taken as literally as its name implies!

We returned to the Annex, talked for a little while and then all went to bed for a night of much-needed recovery. What we didn't count on is that in Zanzibar, it is often quite difficult to sleep uninterrupted because there are loud noises all night. Cats fighting, roosters crowing, mosques with people singing at the top of their voices at absurd hours in the morning, drunken people chanting repetitious phrases in the hallways at night while walking repeatedly into walls. Oh well, broken sleep is better than 30-something hours with no sleep at all!

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