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After two canceled fellowships in Cambodia, a study-abroad in Senegal that didn’t materialize, and a forlorn stare at the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, I have finally made it out of the country! (Buh-bye, ‘Murica). The misfortunes foiling my travel plans of the last two years refused to go down without a fight, however, and I made it into Johannesburg by just the skin of my teeth, arriving not one, not two, but twenty-seven hours behind schedule.
Even before my 27-hour mishap, my journey to South Africa was quite a long one. I departed Friday afternoon from the Richmond airport, excited to take off on on my first of three flights. Unlike most people, I enjoy the novelty of airports and layovers, and feel much more accomplished when I finally arrive at my destination after having to navigate multiple flights. Unfortunately, my love of flying began to diminish as the airplane was stuck at the gate for more than an hour, dealing with a family who couldn’t buckle in their child and an air crew who twice loaded too much fuel into the plane. When all was said and done and we finally touched down in Philadelphia, my second flight to London had already taken off. Luckily, another flight was available in two hours, still leaving ample time for my London layover. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” I assured myself, “Yeah, that family was a little much and that fuel thing was annoying, but it all worked out. Flying is fun!”
Touching down in London about eleven hours later (six for the flight, five for the time zone), I exited the airport, went through customs, and headed straight to the airport’s subway station. With almost a full twelve hours until my next flight, I had the chance to explore London and step into the UK for the first time, checking off country number three. After about forty five minutes of culture shock in which I realized that British accents and driving on the left side of the road were actually real (and trying to hide my laughter on the subway as people casually used the terms “rubbish”, “nil”, and “lifts”), I stepped out of the subway and into the city.
London’s layout is a lot like Washington DC’s. Just like you have the White House surrounded by the National Mall, several memorials, and the Capitol, you have Buckingham Palace surrounded by Green Park, Parliament, and a plethora of monuments and statues. All, of course, have absolutely stunning architecture, and are the sites of numerous historical events. As an added bonus, these locations are all within walking distance and directions are clearly marked by signs, which is especially helpful when you don’t have cell service and didn’t bother planning your route out beforehand. Buckingham Palace is staffed by the Royal Guard, who still perform the “Changing of the Guard” ceremony almost every day. I arrived just in time (it occurs at 11am every day except Sunday), and was able to witness the ceremony, complete with drums, horses, swords, and those unforgettable uniforms.
After exploring the scene around Buckingham, I was able to stroll over to several more notable sites, including Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye and Trafalgar Square. Another London-DC parallel is that several of the city’s museums are completely free, so I crossed over the Thames and headed to the Imperial War Museum. After wrapping it up at the museum, I took the hour long subway ride back to the airport, and made it through security with a comfortable two hours to spare.
Taking the train to the C gates, I met up with some of my fellow study abroad adventurers who were on my 9pm flight to Johannesburg (Jo’burg as the airport staff like to call it). As we stood in line to board, we chatted about how excited we were for Africa, and it dawned on me that this was finally, officially, happening. I handed my passport and boarding pass to the flight attendant, ready to cross that final checkpoint between me and South Africa.
“Just one quick thing, sir, can you show me your covid test?” “Sure,” I pull up my negative result on my phone. “We need proof that it’s a PCR test, do you have an email confirming that?” “Yep,” I pull up my emailed copy of the result, which unfortunately does not indicate the PCR. No worries though, I brought the same exact rapid test just in case something like this happened. I pull out the test, ready to walk through, and….it’s an antigen test, which is NOT the same as the PCR, which means I don’t have a valid test to get into South Africa, which means I can’t board the plane. I head down to the airline’s information desk, backtracking through the airport as the plane to Johannesburg takes off without me. My international mission is officially a disaster.
Luckily, the airline was at fault for admitting my antigen test when they confirmed my journey all the way back in Richmond, and they re-scheduled my flight for free and booked me a hotel. After a 45-minute shuttle ride, I checked in at the very fancy Arora Renaissance, still in a bit of disbelief. Fast forward a day, and I’ve taken a PCR test (negative…whew!) and am sitting in the airport waiting for my second 9pm flight to Jo’burg. I check the gate number and….delayed by an hour. Just my luck. An hour later, I check again. Delayed another hour. I check again. Delayed 30 minutes. Remember when I said I liked flying and layovers?
The plane finally takes off three hours behind schedule, and I arrive in Johannesburg the next morning. Unfortunately, the rest of my group is off exploring Johannesburg’s landmarks and sites, and due to my three hour delay it’s too late to join them. Oh well, at least I’m here. Can’t complain about that. Arriving at our lodge, I clean up and wait for everyone else to return from their excursion. Stepping out of my room in birks (74 degrees!) I sit down on a lawn chair and watch a group of deer run around in the grass. Kicking off my shoes, I dig my feet into South African soil. I made it.
[…] Soaking It Up In South Africa Vol 1: Passing the Test […]