Kili, Here we Come!

Free Wi-fi? 

In my hotel room, no less?  

A Tanzanian dream come true!

Of course, the powers that be couldn't make it easy to get here. Although I confirmed my flight the day before, the Gaborone gate agent tells me that my ticket is cancelled. 

Pardon?

The departure time (7:40 pm) is clearly posted above the counter.  

That is my flight. For which I have already received "final" confirmation.

The mishap is purportedly due to the failure of my Expedia agent to issue my ticket number. 

(Note: Still, I am at a loss as to what, precisely, the issue was.) 

After a tense, 30-minute squabble during which I make a sincere effort to maintain my composure, they allow me on my 7:40 pm flight.

Which is delayed until "further notice".

Luckily, it's only delayed an hour and my connection to Dar es Salaam is rather smooth.

At the visa counter in Tanzania, a shockingly large gentleman says:

"And your return flight?"

Gulp. I don't have one.

"I'm traveling by--"

"SHOW ME your return flight."

"--by car to Kenya; I can show you that return flight if you'd like."

He glares at me for 10 painful seconds. 

"Give me $100."

Whew. No worries, this is the cost of the visa.

"Do you take cred--"

"NO."

Okay then.

A pause for serenity.

This picture does zero justice to what greets me when I awake shortly after take-off en route to Kilimanjaro. Lucky for me, I have the window seat.

It's as if someone has punched gaping holes in the stratocumulus. The yellow reflects so brightly off the water's unperturbed surface, it's like the morning sun emanates from beneath the sea. Albeit squinting mightily to avoid the searing glare, I am glued to the window. As the clouds thin, something tricky happens with my depth perception. We have barely gained altitude, so, sightly out of focus, it appears as though the ocean has acquired a top coat of foam. Except, to my surprise, beneath that layer, the sky is speckled with thick, bundles of cumulus so close to the surface they are surely solid, floating islands. 

Then the Tanzanian coast comes into the frame. Verdant and pristine, totally void of human impact.  

A little later, Kilimanjaro bursts through the sky floor, which has morphed to a carpet of gray stratus.  You can just see it between the propellers. 

I've been lucky to see a good deal of the world's natural beauty but this ranks extremely high on my list of Mother Nature's most captivating concoctions. I picture her in a stunning ballgown, going, 

"Oh this little ole thing?  I just threw it on."

After retrieving my bags at Kilimanjaro National Airport, I find the Climb Kili rep without a problem. Alas, we need to wait for another Climb Kili hiker, "Mary". We wait nearly two hours for Mary during which three or so flights come in and I befriend other trekking company reps. Might as well start learning Swahili, which I'll need for Kenya. 

("Mambo!" is hello. You are to respond with "Poa.")

 We end up leaving for the hotel without Mary, who's flight is still MIA.

Just when it seems like I'm in the clear, we get stopped at a police checkpoint.  The officer makes my driver get out of the car and grumbles about our cracked windshield and some shady stickers. Although they try to make this clandestine, I see my driver pay him off through my side mirror.  

Problem solved.

And now I'm here! 

With Wi-fi!

To my sheer delight, there is an Indian restaurant downstairs.  

I'll be having curry, waiting for Dougie, who (is scheduled) to arrive at 7:45.

Fingers crossed!

Then, the adventure shall begin in earnest.

Love from Kilimanjaro.