Check-in at Columbus was a breeze. The flight to Detroit was short and smooth. Rested for a few hours in the Delta Lounge. The fire-alarm goes off and half the people clear out. After about a half hour of the cacophony of the alarm it turns out that it was a water main break. Now why the hell would the fire alarm go off with a water main break?
There is a Japanese Restaurant on the A Concourse right by Gate 35 that serves some good sushi. I have always gone by this place and ordered Unadon. Its grilled fresh-water eel coated with a sweet sauce served on rice. Its awesome.
Anyway the flight to Amsterdam was uneventful with the same charming ineptitude that we who fly Delta or any of the other US airlines have gotten so used to. Arrival at Schipol Airport (or more correctly Amsterdam Airport Schipol as its written in Dutch) was on time. Sitting by the window I strained to see the terminal. Well, there was nothing nearby that looked like a terminal. Must be on the other side, I thought. Taxiing to the terminal took for ever. I remember passing over a couple of motorways, a few county roads, and was that a farm house we just passed? I later find out that this runway, the latest addition to the airport is just less than 5 miles from the control tower!! No bloody wonder that it took that long to get there. I remember thinking that it must have been in the next county over and it sure is. Schipol is a welcome change to the normally impersonal atmosphere of most large airports. It has a small museum with a few of the Dutch masters exhibited. Right next to this a small library and one that is dedicated to children. There's even a massage area where you can get a full-body water massage. No, you don't have to scare away any of your fellow passengers. You slip into this contraption fully clothed and they shut it over your body leaving your head and neck outside rigged up to an MP3 player and enjoy the massage to your favorite Dutch tunes.
Coming from the US with all the fast food and cheap food, the cost of food here is quite dear. Six bucks for a small cup of coffee, damn that's steep. The croissants and pastries are good. And the fresh fluffy omelets are just to die for.
I get to the Gate. There are two hundred odd passengers there waiting to board the Boeing 777-300 and its always a full flight between Amsterdam and Arusha. I scan my fellow passengers, trying to identify my fellow climbers. I still have no idea who I am climbing with. I am looking for two ladies and a guy. There was this guy who was sitting not twenty feet from me. The logo on the label hanging on his back pack is hanging with the address-side towards me. He has good shoes, the climbing kind, he is reading a book on Mt. Kenya. He's got to be the one. In Europe you go through the metal detection/ body scanner process at each gate and while in line I approach the guy and find out that he was indeed the ONE!! He is Ken, a 33 year old guy who lives in New York City and works for the Federal Reserve. We get talking.
The flight to Arusha is about 8 hours and 20minutes. The fight was punctual as usual. The service was also a welcome departure from that in the US. The stewardesses actually smiled and were universally pleasant during the entire flight. On a long flight that makes all the difference.
We get to Arusha at 2130 hours. It takes another hour to clear customs and get our bags. Ken and I walk out to the guy holding the "Thomson Safari" banner and meet up with our driver , Joseph, and the two ladies: Renee and Norah, both from Austin, TX and accountants to boot. Man, all these finance people and one poor butt doc!! I feel terribly outnumbered. While waiting in line for immigration clearance, the power goes off twice and once again while waiting for our luggage. Welcome to Africa.
We head out to Ndarakwai Ranch, a two and a half hour journey, first over paved roads and then its just dirt roads over the next hour and a half. We bump around in the Land Rover, thankfully with empty stomachs. We were welcomed with traditional African hospitality, had a quick bite to eat and then were shown to our permanent tents. It was cool, comfortable and everything I thought it was going to be.
Sleep came quite quickly...
There is a Japanese Restaurant on the A Concourse right by Gate 35 that serves some good sushi. I have always gone by this place and ordered Unadon. Its grilled fresh-water eel coated with a sweet sauce served on rice. Its awesome.
Anyway the flight to Amsterdam was uneventful with the same charming ineptitude that we who fly Delta or any of the other US airlines have gotten so used to. Arrival at Schipol Airport (or more correctly Amsterdam Airport Schipol as its written in Dutch) was on time. Sitting by the window I strained to see the terminal. Well, there was nothing nearby that looked like a terminal. Must be on the other side, I thought. Taxiing to the terminal took for ever. I remember passing over a couple of motorways, a few county roads, and was that a farm house we just passed? I later find out that this runway, the latest addition to the airport is just less than 5 miles from the control tower!! No bloody wonder that it took that long to get there. I remember thinking that it must have been in the next county over and it sure is. Schipol is a welcome change to the normally impersonal atmosphere of most large airports. It has a small museum with a few of the Dutch masters exhibited. Right next to this a small library and one that is dedicated to children. There's even a massage area where you can get a full-body water massage. No, you don't have to scare away any of your fellow passengers. You slip into this contraption fully clothed and they shut it over your body leaving your head and neck outside rigged up to an MP3 player and enjoy the massage to your favorite Dutch tunes.
Coming from the US with all the fast food and cheap food, the cost of food here is quite dear. Six bucks for a small cup of coffee, damn that's steep. The croissants and pastries are good. And the fresh fluffy omelets are just to die for.
I get to the Gate. There are two hundred odd passengers there waiting to board the Boeing 777-300 and its always a full flight between Amsterdam and Arusha. I scan my fellow passengers, trying to identify my fellow climbers. I still have no idea who I am climbing with. I am looking for two ladies and a guy. There was this guy who was sitting not twenty feet from me. The logo on the label hanging on his back pack is hanging with the address-side towards me. He has good shoes, the climbing kind, he is reading a book on Mt. Kenya. He's got to be the one. In Europe you go through the metal detection/ body scanner process at each gate and while in line I approach the guy and find out that he was indeed the ONE!! He is Ken, a 33 year old guy who lives in New York City and works for the Federal Reserve. We get talking.
The flight to Arusha is about 8 hours and 20minutes. The fight was punctual as usual. The service was also a welcome departure from that in the US. The stewardesses actually smiled and were universally pleasant during the entire flight. On a long flight that makes all the difference.
We get to Arusha at 2130 hours. It takes another hour to clear customs and get our bags. Ken and I walk out to the guy holding the "Thomson Safari" banner and meet up with our driver , Joseph, and the two ladies: Renee and Norah, both from Austin, TX and accountants to boot. Man, all these finance people and one poor butt doc!! I feel terribly outnumbered. While waiting in line for immigration clearance, the power goes off twice and once again while waiting for our luggage. Welcome to Africa.
We head out to Ndarakwai Ranch, a two and a half hour journey, first over paved roads and then its just dirt roads over the next hour and a half. We bump around in the Land Rover, thankfully with empty stomachs. We were welcomed with traditional African hospitality, had a quick bite to eat and then were shown to our permanent tents. It was cool, comfortable and everything I thought it was going to be.
Sleep came quite quickly...
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