Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Smooth flight, but OH the preflight!!
Mar 30
We rose early to the beep of our trusty Timex travel clock and I immediately hit the shower. It was so early that I forgot to turn on the light when I went into the bathroom and I was too tired to care, so I showered in the dark with only the glow of the bathroom's night light. The spray in the shower could peel the chrome from a car bumper but with the layer of sunscreen and sweat I had going I didn't notice it. The girls were stirring when I emerged from the shower and Nik had a quick shower while I got myself and Abby dressed. I organized the luggage and supplies for easy access and headed to find the luggage cart. I was able to haul a couple of our now 70+lbs suitcases down the 15 or so steps to the cart before help arrived in the form of two eager concierges. Only one was required, but many hands make quick work, but also more tips.
It took two full carts to take all of our things to the front desk and I was worried when I didn't see a large van in the circular drive. Thankfully our driver was a pro and had shown up in a Toyota land cruiser. He brought it around as the two concierges struggled to take the carts down the ramp to the driveway. Along the way they seemed to multiply as once it was time to load there were three of them. The new one was an older fellow who they deferred to for ideas on how to fit it all in. They argued back and forth in Swahili with the driver breaking his back inside juggling the enormous bags back and forth as instructed by the elder organizer. I gave my two bits in English and somehow the organizer understood and endorsed my plan and disseminated it to the team who sprung to action and had the truck loaded in a hurry. Nikki and Abby were crammed in the back seat with the food so I climbed into the front, on the correct side this time and we were off to the airport.
The drive to town was peaceful as it was just 6:30 and we were able to catch the sunrise over the Indian Ocean as we rocketed down Ocean Drive to the much busier streets that head into downtown. We entered the mainstream of commuters rather quickly and settled into the snail's pace with honks and waves and just too many cars. As we crawled along, motorbikes zoomed by in between the lanes as if immune to the possibility of cars changing lanes. Our pace quickened as we passed the center of town and we were at speed again in short order. This side of town is certainly less affluent than the Sea Cliff hotel area. The apartments are run down and there are many indescribable homes that do not look fit to live in.
This poverty was the first I have seen to this extent and we were only driving by, and at quite a speed, but it had a (cliche coming) powerful affect on me. It is still, a few days later, not possible for me to describe the emotions and information it gave me to see these homes and the people who live in them. Despite the living conditions these are a proud people and they come out of their homes with colourful, clean and stylish clothing. The walk tall and with purpose with smiles on their faces. We moved from the urban area into a bit of an industrial area and then there were people everywhere.
I was startled by the number of people who were on and by the road. It looked like a riot in the making and I looked to the driver and to Nik, who both appeared unmoved by the view. I asked, "What's up with this." and of course the answer made sense. It was a Dala Dala station and these people were simply beginning their day by heading to town. As we got closer I couldn't get over the sheer number of people swarming around, climbing into already full vans, jumping into the back of trucks weighed down by others and leaping onto the road to flag down a ride. We drove by at a slower speed and were in relatively open road again, but to my surprise another Dala Dala stop with the same swarming masses as the first. It was as if we were driving in circles but the road straightened out and we found the airport's old terminal where we were to catch our flight.
We pulled up to the front of the airport with plenty of time to spare and all we had to do was meet the pilot from Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) at the departure area and board the plane. Of course we forgot that we were in Africa and nothing is as easy as that. A man with one of those reflector vests and an ID card swinging from his neck approached the truck and asked me who we were flying with and what my name was. I thought, 'this is going to be easy' as the man turned and rushed into the airport in search of our pilot. He did not return and after a couple of minutes the driver and I left the girls in the truck and went to search for the pilot ourselves.
We entered the terminal and quickly hit our first roadblock; there was an security point just inside the doors and no one was allowed to pass through unless they had a ticket. So we were stuck right at the get go as we were to get the darn tickets from the pilot who we were to meet inside the terminal which we could not get into without the darn tickets. (remember that part) So I went back to the truck to relay the information to Nik and the driver went to find other help. Nik and I went over the instructions she was given and we found that we were to go to General Aviation which we had assumed was the departure area. On looking at the airport we saw a business with the name "General Aviation" and figured this was the place to go. The driver and I approached the door, which was locked, and he spoke to a few women who were sitting outside. We found that there is not usually anyone there this early in the morning and that we would probably have to wait until 8AM as that is when they normally show up. This did not work as our flight was to be at 7:30 which was coming up fast. I called the number that was pasted to the door and spoke to the Manager who gave me a double whammy of a response when I asked if he knew anything about our flight. First was that he had never worked with MAF and second he couldn't help us out and let us into the airport as he was currently out of town. Terrific, back to square one.
I headed back to the terminal to see if a security guard would accompany me into the terminal so I could look for the pilot. The driver moved the truck at the order of the local police, who were no help I must add. I entered the terminal again and saw a familiar face. I had seen this guy at the Moven Pick hotel the day before while Abby and I were waiting for Nik to finish up at Immigration. Anyway he looked as though he had been here before so I asked him what was up. he was waiting for someone to bring him, of all things, a ticket so he could fly to Zanzibar. He said he had heard of MAF and had flown quite a bit from this airport and may know the pilot, "what's your pilot's name, I may be able to help." Well this was just another crucial piece of information that we did not have so I thanked him for the effort and as there were no security guards willing to help and the girl running the X-Ray machine did not seem interested in helping either I went back out to check on Nik and Abby and see if Nik had any other ideas. Meanwhile the driver had found someone to chat with about this and ask questions of. It didn't seem to help much but the driver was making some phone calls to some of his contacts to see if anyone may know anything about MAF. Nik couldn't believe we couldn't get into the airport and we thought it best to just take another look. After 40 minutes of pacing, searching and being dumbfounded by the whole experience I, for some reason went back into the hotel. I finally found someone on the other side of the security point, another guy in a reflector vest, and asked him if he knew where anyone from MAF was. He cracked a big smile and showed me his ID badge, it said at the bottom MAF ground assistant. I could have kissed him but for the 4 feet of table between us. He asked if there were three of us and if we were flying to Haydom I told him he had the right crew and headed out to get Nik and Abby.
I was so thrilled after this bit of stress that I was literally giving myself high 5's as I left the terminal to gather the family. The driver quickly drove to the front door and a couple of guys wheeled their carts to help. The MAF guy was on the scene in a flash and waved them away like a lion chasing vultures from a fresh kill and gave me a hand with the bags and food supplies. it took a few trips to wheel it the 20 feet to the X-ray machine. The girls walked through the metal detector and were waiting on the other side for me when I set the thing beeping and flashing. I couldn't help notice that the few Tz coins in my pocket were holding up the rapidly forming line of seemingly angry tourists heading for Zanzibar or Nairobi. I leapt back through the machine, set the coins on top of it and wen through again with no beeps, free at last. Our helpful assistant grabbed a huge luggage cart and loaded half our stuff on it; he and I took it out to the plane while the girls guarded the rest. I helped the pilot load the plane while the assistant headed back for the rest of our things. He returned quickly and as the rain started we loaded as quickly as possible while Nikki and Abby waited inside the terminal and out of the rain. Once we were loaded the girls were summoned and the boarded the plane while I got wet snapping a pic or two of our ride and then ran onboard.
We strapped into the third row of the otherwise empty plane for the first leg of our flight to Haydom via the capital city, Dodoma. The pilot gave his preflight speech on safety and hospitality, said a short prayer for a safe trip and we were taxiing down the runway in a light rain. The flight to Dodoma was very smooth a scenic. We headed straight north up the coast for a while as we climbed to our cruising altitude of 10,000 feet. The view of a river that was a great example of a meandering stream held my attention for a while, as did some truly billowing cloud formations. Once we hit 10 thousand feet we turned west and were flying between two layers of clouds for a while until we broke into crisp blue sky above and radiant pillows of cloud below. It was breathtaking. Through breaks in the clouds below we could see a small north-south highway with few vehicles and the odd small town with only a winding dirt road leading to and from it. At one point I noticed a dark mountain peak just visible as it jutted through the clouds like a crocodile's eyes on on the edge of a stream.
To be continued
We rose early to the beep of our trusty Timex travel clock and I immediately hit the shower. It was so early that I forgot to turn on the light when I went into the bathroom and I was too tired to care, so I showered in the dark with only the glow of the bathroom's night light. The spray in the shower could peel the chrome from a car bumper but with the layer of sunscreen and sweat I had going I didn't notice it. The girls were stirring when I emerged from the shower and Nik had a quick shower while I got myself and Abby dressed. I organized the luggage and supplies for easy access and headed to find the luggage cart. I was able to haul a couple of our now 70+lbs suitcases down the 15 or so steps to the cart before help arrived in the form of two eager concierges. Only one was required, but many hands make quick work, but also more tips.
It took two full carts to take all of our things to the front desk and I was worried when I didn't see a large van in the circular drive. Thankfully our driver was a pro and had shown up in a Toyota land cruiser. He brought it around as the two concierges struggled to take the carts down the ramp to the driveway. Along the way they seemed to multiply as once it was time to load there were three of them. The new one was an older fellow who they deferred to for ideas on how to fit it all in. They argued back and forth in Swahili with the driver breaking his back inside juggling the enormous bags back and forth as instructed by the elder organizer. I gave my two bits in English and somehow the organizer understood and endorsed my plan and disseminated it to the team who sprung to action and had the truck loaded in a hurry. Nikki and Abby were crammed in the back seat with the food so I climbed into the front, on the correct side this time and we were off to the airport.
The drive to town was peaceful as it was just 6:30 and we were able to catch the sunrise over the Indian Ocean as we rocketed down Ocean Drive to the much busier streets that head into downtown. We entered the mainstream of commuters rather quickly and settled into the snail's pace with honks and waves and just too many cars. As we crawled along, motorbikes zoomed by in between the lanes as if immune to the possibility of cars changing lanes. Our pace quickened as we passed the center of town and we were at speed again in short order. This side of town is certainly less affluent than the Sea Cliff hotel area. The apartments are run down and there are many indescribable homes that do not look fit to live in.
This poverty was the first I have seen to this extent and we were only driving by, and at quite a speed, but it had a (cliche coming) powerful affect on me. It is still, a few days later, not possible for me to describe the emotions and information it gave me to see these homes and the people who live in them. Despite the living conditions these are a proud people and they come out of their homes with colourful, clean and stylish clothing. The walk tall and with purpose with smiles on their faces. We moved from the urban area into a bit of an industrial area and then there were people everywhere.
I was startled by the number of people who were on and by the road. It looked like a riot in the making and I looked to the driver and to Nik, who both appeared unmoved by the view. I asked, "What's up with this." and of course the answer made sense. It was a Dala Dala station and these people were simply beginning their day by heading to town. As we got closer I couldn't get over the sheer number of people swarming around, climbing into already full vans, jumping into the back of trucks weighed down by others and leaping onto the road to flag down a ride. We drove by at a slower speed and were in relatively open road again, but to my surprise another Dala Dala stop with the same swarming masses as the first. It was as if we were driving in circles but the road straightened out and we found the airport's old terminal where we were to catch our flight.
We pulled up to the front of the airport with plenty of time to spare and all we had to do was meet the pilot from Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) at the departure area and board the plane. Of course we forgot that we were in Africa and nothing is as easy as that. A man with one of those reflector vests and an ID card swinging from his neck approached the truck and asked me who we were flying with and what my name was. I thought, 'this is going to be easy' as the man turned and rushed into the airport in search of our pilot. He did not return and after a couple of minutes the driver and I left the girls in the truck and went to search for the pilot ourselves.
We entered the terminal and quickly hit our first roadblock; there was an security point just inside the doors and no one was allowed to pass through unless they had a ticket. So we were stuck right at the get go as we were to get the darn tickets from the pilot who we were to meet inside the terminal which we could not get into without the darn tickets. (remember that part) So I went back to the truck to relay the information to Nik and the driver went to find other help. Nik and I went over the instructions she was given and we found that we were to go to General Aviation which we had assumed was the departure area. On looking at the airport we saw a business with the name "General Aviation" and figured this was the place to go. The driver and I approached the door, which was locked, and he spoke to a few women who were sitting outside. We found that there is not usually anyone there this early in the morning and that we would probably have to wait until 8AM as that is when they normally show up. This did not work as our flight was to be at 7:30 which was coming up fast. I called the number that was pasted to the door and spoke to the Manager who gave me a double whammy of a response when I asked if he knew anything about our flight. First was that he had never worked with MAF and second he couldn't help us out and let us into the airport as he was currently out of town. Terrific, back to square one.
I headed back to the terminal to see if a security guard would accompany me into the terminal so I could look for the pilot. The driver moved the truck at the order of the local police, who were no help I must add. I entered the terminal again and saw a familiar face. I had seen this guy at the Moven Pick hotel the day before while Abby and I were waiting for Nik to finish up at Immigration. Anyway he looked as though he had been here before so I asked him what was up. he was waiting for someone to bring him, of all things, a ticket so he could fly to Zanzibar. He said he had heard of MAF and had flown quite a bit from this airport and may know the pilot, "what's your pilot's name, I may be able to help." Well this was just another crucial piece of information that we did not have so I thanked him for the effort and as there were no security guards willing to help and the girl running the X-Ray machine did not seem interested in helping either I went back out to check on Nik and Abby and see if Nik had any other ideas. Meanwhile the driver had found someone to chat with about this and ask questions of. It didn't seem to help much but the driver was making some phone calls to some of his contacts to see if anyone may know anything about MAF. Nik couldn't believe we couldn't get into the airport and we thought it best to just take another look. After 40 minutes of pacing, searching and being dumbfounded by the whole experience I, for some reason went back into the hotel. I finally found someone on the other side of the security point, another guy in a reflector vest, and asked him if he knew where anyone from MAF was. He cracked a big smile and showed me his ID badge, it said at the bottom MAF ground assistant. I could have kissed him but for the 4 feet of table between us. He asked if there were three of us and if we were flying to Haydom I told him he had the right crew and headed out to get Nik and Abby.
I was so thrilled after this bit of stress that I was literally giving myself high 5's as I left the terminal to gather the family. The driver quickly drove to the front door and a couple of guys wheeled their carts to help. The MAF guy was on the scene in a flash and waved them away like a lion chasing vultures from a fresh kill and gave me a hand with the bags and food supplies. it took a few trips to wheel it the 20 feet to the X-ray machine. The girls walked through the metal detector and were waiting on the other side for me when I set the thing beeping and flashing. I couldn't help notice that the few Tz coins in my pocket were holding up the rapidly forming line of seemingly angry tourists heading for Zanzibar or Nairobi. I leapt back through the machine, set the coins on top of it and wen through again with no beeps, free at last. Our helpful assistant grabbed a huge luggage cart and loaded half our stuff on it; he and I took it out to the plane while the girls guarded the rest. I helped the pilot load the plane while the assistant headed back for the rest of our things. He returned quickly and as the rain started we loaded as quickly as possible while Nikki and Abby waited inside the terminal and out of the rain. Once we were loaded the girls were summoned and the boarded the plane while I got wet snapping a pic or two of our ride and then ran onboard.
We strapped into the third row of the otherwise empty plane for the first leg of our flight to Haydom via the capital city, Dodoma. The pilot gave his preflight speech on safety and hospitality, said a short prayer for a safe trip and we were taxiing down the runway in a light rain. The flight to Dodoma was very smooth a scenic. We headed straight north up the coast for a while as we climbed to our cruising altitude of 10,000 feet. The view of a river that was a great example of a meandering stream held my attention for a while, as did some truly billowing cloud formations. Once we hit 10 thousand feet we turned west and were flying between two layers of clouds for a while until we broke into crisp blue sky above and radiant pillows of cloud below. It was breathtaking. Through breaks in the clouds below we could see a small north-south highway with few vehicles and the odd small town with only a winding dirt road leading to and from it. At one point I noticed a dark mountain peak just visible as it jutted through the clouds like a crocodile's eyes on on the edge of a stream.
To be continued
