9-25 The big day

Planning for this holiday goes back over 9 months. I have wanted to travel to Africa for as long as I can remember. I had hoped to go in 2018, but Bruce wasn’t keen. After a while, though, as age advances one realizes that it’s now or never. I’m quickly creeping up on 70 (how the hell did that happen?) and if I was going to do it I needed to do it soon, so I started to research safaris. As a bit of background, I should say that I’ve always been an animal lover. One of the charities that I support is the Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald, TN. It’s a place where elephants that were captive in zoos or circuses have been retired to live out their lives in as natural way as possible, with a herd of their own. If you aren’t familiar with their work, please do check them out.

I used an aggregator site to research which safaris were available. We found three that we especially liked. Deciding that we didn’t want to rough it, ie have a bucket with chemicals in lieu of a toilet, we finally chose a 14-day safari by Seven By Far Safaris. Once again, I chose the dates then discovered my dates were off by one day. Again that turned out to be a happy accident, because the extra day will allow us to visit the David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage and the Giraffe Sanctuary.

Up at the crack of dawn to repack, we made it to Heathrow in ample time. This being the trip of a lifetime, we treated ourselves to BA First Class. We checked in at the terribly posh and polite BA First Class check in area and were then directed to the first class check in and the BA lounge. When we got to what turned out to be the Business class lounge, the hostess asked if I was Bruce’s guest. Umm, no. Why would you ask? Well, he’s in first class and you’re in economy. I looked at the ticket and discovered that not only was I in economy, but my name was David Porter. What? How the hell did the BA check-in person give me the wrong boarding pass? Happily, Lourdes, the angel at the Business class lounge gate, was able to correct the mistake and get me the correct boarding pass. We then went up another floor to the first class lounge. For the last two years when we’ve flown to England, we’ve flown Virgin Atlantic and enjoyed the Virgin first class lounge at Heathrow. Having now experienced both I can say that British Airways could learn a thing or two from Virgin. Both have food available, but at the Virgin Heathrow lounge, there’s table service and a wonderful menu of options, even at breakfast. Last year I had a smoked salmon benedict and a lovely latte delivered to my table. This year at BA, I helped myself to rather runny scrambled eggs and had to hunt around to find a napkin. We couldn’t find a cleared table, so pushed the last person’s dishes aside to settle in for our 1.5 hour wait. An hour or so later a busboy finally cleared the dishes. At the appropriate time we made our way to the gate via the underground shuttle. I won’t address the rudeness of the people pushing their way ahead and then blocking the entrance, (Oh, wait, I just did.)

We made it to the gate and in short order boarded the plane. The first class cabin is quite a marvel. Each person has their own little compartment, complete with a door for privacy. Bruce and I had seats in the middle, separated by a discrete panel which could be opened, should we want to communicate.

There was a large screen for entertainment and a pillow and blanket for our comfort. It’s in the food and service where BA outstrips Virgin Atlantic.

The menu looked wonderful and turned out to be even better than advertised. I could eat the Scottish smoked salmon dish every day. I chose the mezzaluna pasta main and Bruce had the Welsh lamb, both of which were delicious. The accompanying wines were first class, no pun intended. (I have an advanced certificate in Wine and Spirits from the WSET, so I know whence I speak.) Possibly the best part, though, was the cabin crew. They took incredibly good care of us and were charming as well. I’ve only allowed myself to fly first class in the last couple of years, so I find the experience a mixed bag. I love the amenities, but I ten to feel a bit like one of the Clampetts from the Beverly Hillbillies. I can afford it, but I don’t really feel as though I fit in. A welcoming cabin crew can really make the difference.

BA has a video channel called “Best of British” so I was able to see a n older film that was on my “must see” list, The Phantom Thread. I was then able to catch up with season 4 of “Ghosts.” (British version, not American.)

The flight was almost 9 hours so we hoped for a quick trip from there to the hotel. Clearly I had never experienced the joys of the Kenyan immigration desk. Virtually everyone in front of us in line had problems. Lots of money changed hands, people were passed from one desk to another. As my turn approached I was filled with dread, but chose to approach the desk with a big smile and a happy greeting. It worked! I only waited about five minutes. Bruce was a bit less lucky, had to wait a bit longer and had to provide a full set of fingerprints (!!!) as well as the required photo. At last we made it to customs where our carry-on bags were scanned and we exited. Our driver and escort were waiting just outside the exit to take us to our hotel. As we left the airport, Maxwell, our guide, said look to the right: zebras. There, maybe 20 feet from the side of the road were 8 or 10 zebras (it was dark and I was unprepared for the photo op, darn it. He said that was a good omen for our safari. Let’s hope so. We drove about 20 minutes and arrived at our hotel. We passed through yet another security screening and Maxwell took our passports to check us in. After about 15 minutes he came back and said we were going to the sister hotel further across town. Okay. We got back in the car and…nothing. It wouldn’t start. What transpired then was like something out of a comedy film. Turn the key, turn the key, turn the key, get out and look under the hood. Fiddle with something, get back in the car. Turn the key, turn the key, turn the key, get out and look under the hood. Fiddle with something, get back in the car. Turn the key, turn the key, turn the key, get out, confer with the hotel doorman about the car, have him fiddle with something under the hood, get back in the car, Turn the key, turn the key, turn the key. Repeat ad infinitum (about 30 minutes). Another car was called and we made our way another 1- minutes along and pulled into a Shell station. It looked like we were about to park by a metal fence, but the fence turned out to be a heavy metal security gate for the hotel. It opened and we drove up to another gate. The security guard checked the back of the car, then allowed us to pass through the next two gates. We drove up to a beautiful, modern hotel, the Sarova PanAfric. Once again through security screening, but this time our escort brought us to the check-in desk where we were served a glass of apple juice while we waited. I filled out the requisite forms, we said goodnight to Maxwell and headed to our room. Maxwell had gotten us an upgrade to a gorgeous room with a wonderful bathroom and a small lighted vanity.

There was coffee service, a fully stocked minibar, room safe, all the mod cons, as the Brits say. Best of all, it was quiet, even though it's on a very busy street. We popped down to the hotel bar for a cocktail before bed. I had a perfect cosmopolitan, Bruce had a Tusker beer. I looked down at my watch and it was 11:45. How did that happen? Back to the room to pass out.