A bit of breakfast and we started off for Kenya. Things started going bad before we left so I refrained from any physical contact with Sue and Ian and the Lodge staff and got my compromised self into the first the three vehicles that would take us to the airport in Zambia. The downward turn continued in one of the cars when I had to ask them to stop for my churning stomach. Thought I got lucky when that didn't come to pass but then fainted dead away for about three minutes according to my family - eyes wide open. I was up front with the driver who was wide-eyed himself when that went down. Unfortunately, we then had to get into a small boat to cross the river and get visas, and go through customs in Zambia. Once at the airport, Ron insisted on a wheelchair from then on.
A flight to Harare, a short lay-over with us in the plane, and then a few more hours into Nairobe. The worst part was the smells - the meal service with exotic spices and a full planeload of people, many of whom who do not share a Westerner's idea of cleanliness. Rough, that.
Once in Nairobe, we joined countless others going through customs, claiming the luggage and awaiting our driver who was not at the ready once we left the airport. I had an angel helping me all the way from the plane, pushing my wheelchair, getting me to the front of the line at customs, collecting the luggage for all four of us, and calling the person who was supposed to pick us up on her cell phone. She even wheeled me to the parking lot, right up to the van. She was probably in he mid-20's and weighed about 120 pounds. I always get these small people pushing me in wheelchairs. By the way, I am pretty convinced that all this mischief was caused by Malarone, the malaria meds I had been taking. So much of this mirrored the experience Joan and I had in India. She had to take care of me all by herself there but this time I had three people to tend to me.
Once we were collected at the airport, my heart did sink to hear that there would be a 45 minute drive to Giraffe Manor. When we finally arrived, it was 10 P.M. and I could not participate in the greeting, tour, or late dinner. Tony, one of the many fabulous staff here, recommended camomile tea in my room and by the time it arrived I was in bed with the mosquito netting drawn. A few sips of tea and out.
A flight to Harare, a short lay-over with us in the plane, and then a few more hours into Nairobe. The worst part was the smells - the meal service with exotic spices and a full planeload of people, many of whom who do not share a Westerner's idea of cleanliness. Rough, that.
Once in Nairobe, we joined countless others going through customs, claiming the luggage and awaiting our driver who was not at the ready once we left the airport. I had an angel helping me all the way from the plane, pushing my wheelchair, getting me to the front of the line at customs, collecting the luggage for all four of us, and calling the person who was supposed to pick us up on her cell phone. She even wheeled me to the parking lot, right up to the van. She was probably in he mid-20's and weighed about 120 pounds. I always get these small people pushing me in wheelchairs. By the way, I am pretty convinced that all this mischief was caused by Malarone, the malaria meds I had been taking. So much of this mirrored the experience Joan and I had in India. She had to take care of me all by herself there but this time I had three people to tend to me.
Once we were collected at the airport, my heart did sink to hear that there would be a 45 minute drive to Giraffe Manor. When we finally arrived, it was 10 P.M. and I could not participate in the greeting, tour, or late dinner. Tony, one of the many fabulous staff here, recommended camomile tea in my room and by the time it arrived I was in bed with the mosquito netting drawn. A few sips of tea and out.
1 comment:
Oh Hane,
I am at the beginning of my to-do full Sunday and clicked on your blog for a quick check-in. I hate hearing my dear cousin fainted and was ill in such far away lands. You are one tough cookie. Now I have to figure out if Sue and Ian are our Sue and Ian. Can't imagine that to be true. Much love, Miss
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