Jambo Nairobi

RTW – 28-29 Sep 2008
Entering Africa generates a sensation difficult to explain. The continent and its people have suffered extortion, exploitation, and violence forever. Upon arrival, you are stepping into an open wound. You can get beyond that rather quickly in seeing the struggle of so many people having so very little. Most everyone has to walk where ever they want to go and carry whatever they need to take. On the drive into town, all you see are people going somewhere and doing something. These people may live in poverty, but most strive to get beyond their place. There is no welfare here to cripple spirits. It is not to say there are haves and have-nots or predator and prey. Africans know well the role of lion and wildebeest, but that is not humanity. Let’s just call it survival of the fittest to get beyond this thought.
Kenya was of lesser significance than my other stops along the way. I had three days but only booked an overnight stay at the Nairobi Hilton to get a footing, find a driver, and venture into Masai country. It was late Sunday afternoon in the center of Nairobi, where I could see safari offices near the hotel. Seeking a driver, the gal at the reception desk had a recommendation on a crumbled business card for Big Safari Tours. She called; I expressed my wishes, and they said to meet Lucy in the lobby tomorrow at nine. With that in place, I had a Tusker beer at their Jockey Pub and promptly dissolved in my room to rest my well-traveled body.
Early awake, body clock beyond repair, I did some Googling to get an idea about pricing for Masai Mara National Park. I found Lucy in the lobby. Big Safari was ready to get me there tomorrow with a private guide and van. We had to do some haggling over prices, but I did not want to spend a day trying to get something else. We walked to her office to swipe my Visa card, and I found them not to be so ‘Big’ after all. Hey, maybe they will try harder.
Another Lucy was calling, the X million-year-old skeleton found by the Leakeys. The Nairobi National Museum was a tribute to Richard Leakey, a short taxi ride away. The Humanoid Skull Room was the hall of fame for such Homo habilis findings. My taxi driver had wanted to wait, but I said I would be there all day. When I emerged after an hour and a half, he was waiting. The Karen Blixen House, as in Out of Africa, was a bit farther out of town than I thought. Her story and seeing the setting was worth the drive.

Road from Shanghai

RTW – 25-27 Sep 2008
Once on the job site, it was apparent the customer had no concern for my lost day, and they wanted me for the agreed two days. Expecting no less, the night before, I had emailed the details of my agenda to Jason, the young fellow assigned as my host. Here I am again, like a baby dependent on others to do for me. My day in Guangzhou would have to be scrubbed, and Jason spent much of our first day in the background talking with the airline to change my flight. He was coming up with options that would work for him – flying To Shen Zhen and take a train to Hong Kong – get the bus from Guangzhou to Hong Kong. Their local transportation is without English subtitles, and most service people are willing but not educated enough in English to get me through. Alas, Jason came through with the right plane connection and was able to do so without any additional charges. An excellent level of comfort settles in when things keep working.
My work was mostly completed by the morning of the second day. The customer gave me my leave with the right timing. Jason devoted to my cause, went to the airport with me, came inside, and saw to the success of his ticketing effort.
I was now in store for a gruesome chain of airports Shanghai – Guangzhou – Hong Kong – Bangkok – Dubai – Nairobi. Emirates is like airlines were before cost-cutting, and ‘equal opportunity’ came into play. Their HR people are very discriminating to put together obliging, disciplined, courteous, ever-smiling, and most beautiful ladies in flight. The fine cuisine was served with stainless utensils. Our 777 with full Boeing options was impeccably clean. The Emirates image crashed when we arrived in Dubai at 4:30 AM. The huge transit area was overflowing with thousands of people awaiting connections. Management was either in cahoots with the duty-free shops or severely inept. My six-hour layover left me in the same situation as the masses.

Road to Shanghai

RTW – 22-24 Sep 2008
A three-week escape from the business life I have put into a relaxed mode was not so simple to get on hold. In this case, I had to walk away and hope for the best. Issues had been easy to work out with cell phones and Internet access, but Africa would be far removed from such satellites.
My great itinerary suffered from the push to get off the ground by September twenty-third. Visa requirements put Zanzibar out of reach when I found Tanzania added limitations and required a four day processing time. Ghana was a two-day process, and I had a five-day window in Washington DC. Additional passport pages were necessary to accommodate visas. After only two years, many Asian travels filled up my latest passport. I put things in the hands of an agent in DC, knowing everything had to happen without any delays. Sure enough, late Thursday, the agent called to say Ghanaian Embassy had not finished and they were closed on Friday. The timing was now to have it completed on Monday, and FedEx could deliver by 10:30 Tuesday – I needed to leave for the airport by noon.
No worries, Northwest flight 11 made record time with a new route through Russia, and Tokyo was only eleven hours away. Upon arrival, we were alerted that the connecting flight to Shanghai was delayed by mechanical problems. They held about twenty of us aside and sent us off to a nearby hotel. The initial twelve-hour delay became twenty, and the aspect of missing a day’s work could cripple my progress in China and beyond. I am not surprised this should happen, as this was my third time in five years to spend a night in Narita because of the Northwest hub timing. They adorned us with travel credit vouchers for our inconvenience, but that meant very little to me at the time.
The checked baggage stayed in the airport system.
For two days before leaving the States, I had laid my to-go clothing atop my bed, trying to make do with a carry-on and backpack while looking to avoid lost luggage because of so many plane transfers. Three weeks is a long time, and I was not expecting laundry service most of the way. So at the last minute, I put everything and more into my oversized roller bag. Like, who am I trying to kid, I’m really not a backpacker anymore? My first night showed me what lost luggage would be like using a tiny hotel toothbrush, but it was sort of a plus to get an extra day out of the clothing I wore.

Round the World

RTW – 22-24 Sep 2008
A three-week escape from the business life I have put into a relaxed mode was not so simple to get on hold. In this case, I had to walk away and hope for the best. Issues had been easy to work out with cell phones and Internet access, but Africa would be far removed from such satellites.
My great itinerary suffered from the push to get off the ground by September twenty-third. Visa requirements put Zanzibar out of reach when I found Tanzania added limitations and required a four day processing time. Ghana was a two-day process, and I had a five-day window in Washington DC. Additional passport pages were necessary to accommodate visas. After only two years, many Asian travels filled up my latest passport. I put things in the hands of an agent in DC, knowing everything had to happen without any delays. Sure enough, late Thursday, the agent called to say Ghanaian Embassy had not finished and they were closed on Friday. The timing was now to have it completed on Monday, and FedEx could deliver by 10:30 Tuesday – I needed to leave for the airport by noon.
No worries, Northwest flight 11 made record time with a new route through Russia, and Tokyo was only eleven hours away. Upon arrival, we were alerted that the connecting flight to Shanghai was delayed by mechanical problems. They held about twenty of us aside and sent us off to a nearby hotel. The initial twelve-hour delay became twenty, and the aspect of missing a day’s work could cripple my progress in China and beyond. I am not surprised this should happen, as this was my third time in five years to spend a night in Narita because of the Northwest hub timing. They adorned us with travel credit vouchers for our inconvenience, but that meant very little to me at the time.
The checked baggage stayed in the airport system.
For two days before leaving the States, I had laid my to-go clothing atop my bed, trying to make do with a carry-on and backpack while looking to avoid lost luggage because of so many plane transfers. Three weeks is a long time, and I was not expecting laundry service most of the way. So at the last minute, I put everything and more into my oversized roller bag. Like, who am I trying to kid, I’m really not a backpacker anymore? My first night showed me what lost luggage would be like using a tiny hotel toothbrush, but it was sort of a plus to get an extra day out of the clothing I wore.

Hobby Horse

A man of attrition and not very worthy could fit a man we can call, Hopalong.
At fourteen, my first horse farm job was a peaceful three-mile walk from home. Such work was a grade above peddling newspapers or hauling hay. An hourly wage was involved, and a sense of responsibility was endowed with the care and feeding of horses. Sixty, some acres of paddocks and pasture were marked by white wooden fences. Two boarding barns had neatly kept stalls for a variety of mares intended for breeding to our prized stallions. A training barn adjacent to an oval track kept harness racehorses destined for county fairs or Northville Downs.
Within a short time on the job, I was privy to the story about Hopalong. His father owned a new car dealership, and his success provided this family horse farm. An early death left it all to his Hopalong. His mismanagement of the dealership left him with a run-down used car lot, while his wife managed the horse farm into an enterprise that boarded, bred, and trained harness racehorses. During my tenure, the used car lot was dwindling, and Hopalong was more prevalent at the farm.
In our plebiscite role, we gave Hopalong a pass while his wife garnered our respect. She was researching artificial insemination for our breeding tasks while Hopalong scorned an extra flake of hay for a boarded mare. Preps for scheduled visitors brought Hopalong out of the estate house too often for cosmetic gestures. One such time brought about an ire that I had before not found. We had a mare in foal with the heaves. I want to call her Hanna though I cannot remember her name. My vet skills aside, the heaves were a form of emphysema that usually calls for putting them away peacefully. Hopalong wants to keep her alive to give birth. He could not have Hanna around with visitors about, so he commanded me to take her across the road to the shed. This old building was open to the elements with a roof beyond repair. A plebe had no voice, so I followed instructions. My first stop every morning and last peek at night was to see to Hanna and pity her situation.
I remember that hot August Sunday when a torrential downpour hit Southeast Michigan. I thought of Hanna that night. The shed was my first stop at dawn on Monday. There she lay with the foal inside her so very still after such a traumatic night. It was as if a bolt of lightning had pitched her against the side of the stall. For a dead horse, you remove their halter. I did that and stormed onto the patio of the estate house (no place for us peons) where Hopalong was enjoying his morning coffee, threw her halter at his feet, and said, “The foal didn’t make it either.” Then I walked away.