I am a wreck. This has been my worst trip home. (with the exception of the time that I flew home from Kathmandu to Toronto with a fever/flu and had to wait for 21 hours in the transit lounge of Delhi).
It started off last Monday with yet another Air Zimbabwe cancellation. I seriously don’t know why my boss even bothers to book flights with them. From Sunday onwards, I was left in this state of limbo, being told every day that we would fly “tomorrow”, only to find out that when “tomorrow came” we were actually flying “tomorrow”. (Very African, I am learning.)
Confused? I was too.
Finally, we had confirmed seats on a Thursday evening flight. (I was told this Thursday at noon…). We left for the airport at 3pm, only to find out that our flight was delayed due to weather. It left 2.5 hours late, and because of that we missed our connection to Johannesburg and had to spend the night in Zurich. I actually didn’t mind that because I thought that I would get to spend a day in Zurich and do some sight-seeing. But it’s such an expensive city and after blowing all my money in London I couldn’t afford to get into town from the airport. I did go into town with my boss and family for lunch and a bit of shopping, which was an interesting experience. It was cool to see the beautiful lake, with a backdrop of hills and mountains, to see some of the quintessential Swiss architecture, and to hear German spoken all around me, but what was most fascinating was a glimpse into my bosses’ lifestyle. We took two cabs into town – 150 euros. An expensive lunch at a beautiful Swiss restaurant (delicious!). A wander around town, where we stopped at Prada to buy a 2000 euro dress, then to a tobacco shop to buy a 1000 euro cigar lighter, and then another 150 euro cab ride home. OMG! Weird.
FYI. Prada makes ugly things.
That evening, almost 24 hours after arriving into Zurich, we departed for Johannesburg. For whatever reason, I couldn’t get myself to sleep, so I spent the entire 10-hour red eye flight watching movies. Another Earth – fabulous, btw.
Upon our arrival in Johhanesburg, I learned that we didn’t have any confirmed flights to Harare and that there were no available seats until Monday (it being Saturday morning by now). So, my boss decided to send for his private plane to come pick us up and bring us to Harare. Wow. For that, we had to drive to another airport an hour or so away, wait several hours for the airplane to arrive, and then fly 3 hours to Harare (rather than just over 1, because of the slow speed of a small aircraft). It was pretty neat to fly in a small plane (8 seats, including the pilot), and I got to sit up front and watch the pilot take off and land (that’s all I managed to stay awake for, as by this point in time I was exhausted!). Other than that, though, it was mighty uncomfortable. It was freezing cold, loud as can be, and there was no pressurization in the cabin. There was also no bathroom. I knew this before getting onto the plane, but despite using the toilet 3 times before departure, I had to pee like no other an hour or so into the flight. Harare couldn’t have come too soon. But of course there was still the 2-hour ride back to the farm.
52 hours.
P.S. Upon our arrival in Harare, we went to pick up our 9 pieces of luggage. But none of it was there. I could have foreseen that, since our flights got so messed up. Despite me mentioning this to my boss several times, he dismissed me. Now it is 48 hours later, and our luggage has finally been located – in Johannesburg, one of the airport notorious for losing bags or getting things stolen. I am so incredibly worried that my bags aren’t going to arrive intact. Between my guitar, Christoph’s school supplies (including tons of new books I bought), $300 horseback riding pants, all my Whole Foods organic toilettries I bought, and pretty much all of the clothes I brought to Zimbabwe, I have a lot to lose. Send me good thoughts, ok?
