39,000 FEET ABOVE THE INDIAN OCEAN March 2 2012

We got to the airport in good time as the predicted storm and widespread flooding did not eventuate. It seems that the authorities are so nervous about being blamed for not warning people in time that they are now over-cautious and are as jumpy as cats in a room full of rocking chairs. Of course this series of repeat warnings has the opposite effect of that intended as people begin to ignore them. Crying “Wolf!” was never a great idea as Aesop’s shepherd boy found out when the wolves ate him.

Rab had a bit of disturbed night as the periodic hooting of the trains on the line at our level woke her from time to time. I must confess I didn’t hear them and I slept well enough by my standards, despite the rather unusual bed.

The International side of the Sydney airport has undergone major changes since we were last there. After checking in, in the old style, with an attendant at a desk! – we stepped into what seemed like an enormous shopping mall, which is the duty free area. Even at that time of the day – shortly before 09h00, spruikers were touting the specials on booze and offering tastes of everything from Mojitos to 15 year old Scotch. A bit early in the morning for us, but there seemed to be plenty of takers. The lounge was very comfortable as were our seats on the flight – a stretched Jumbo being the aircraft used on this flight with it’s fourteen hour flying time. The staff were as pleasant as we remembered them to be – they manage, in typical Australia style, to be friendly and helpful without being obsequious or distant. A good balance. We told our hostie that it was ten years since we had last flown Qantas and in due course the Chief Steward – or Senior Customer Service Manager as I think he is now called – welcomed us back and said he hoped we’d become regular flyers again. A nice touch I thought. An even nicer one was that before we got off, he gave us a bottle of the very good Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon wine that we had with our meal.

The food on the flight was excellent. One of the top chefs in Australia – Neil Perry – designs the menu and it makes choosing from the options somewhat difficult. A couple of Dark and Stormys - rum and ginger beer - got us into the right mood and the red wine, as I have said was a tremendous accompaniment to the meal. I thought with that aboard I’d sleep better than I did. Of course it was only about 15h00 when I started dozing off and the flat bed was truly flat – and long enough. They are a little short for me on some. But it was also a little narrow, making lying on my back difficult as my shoulders overflowed. (as I dozed off I thought that might a be problem for the coffin maker and made a mental note to remind Rab to get a wide enough box. And that got me wondering if coffins are recycled if they are used when the deceased is cremated? And if not why not? Have a stout removable flammable liner enclosing the body; whip that out for the big burn and re-use the expensive outer shell.

At that stage I fell asleep only to wake a couple of hours later with a pain in my knee. Turned out that lying on my side my knee had overlapped the rim of the seat and that was what caused the discomfort. I walked it off but was wide awake, so settled down to watch a couple of films. I always enjoyed the Tin Tin books when I was younger, so that was my first choice and I thought it was excellent, especially Tin Tin’s dog Snowy who reminded me so much of my darling Bilbo. That was followed by Iron Lady. The critics have been harsh on the film, while praising Meryl Streep’s acting,  saying that there was too much of Maggie Thatcher in her declining years as she slowly sinks into the swamps of Alzheimer’s, but I thought it was brilliantly done, juxtaposing her current awful situation with the glory of her days of triumph.

A final meal before we start our descent into Johannesburg and our long flight will be over. Not looking forward to the hour and a half  on the ground there or the two hour flight to Cape Town, but that’s what we are stuck with.

Later:

South African airports were not a good experience! We were about 15 minutes late in coming in, which cut the time we had to get to the departure gate for our domestic flight to one hour fifteen minutes. We were taken aback when we finally made it to Immigration after a trek of what seemed like several kilometres in a very warm building. There were people everywhere and long lines winding slowly through the sheep pens that were controlling the crowd. As is so often the case in airports al over the world, there were unmanned desks – why can’t enough staff be  rostered on?? – and by the time we were through there, we were down to 45 minutes to get to the gate of the next flight.

The luggage was coming off the carousal, there were plenty of trolleys  so we grabbed our cases and headed for Customs, which seemed to be a long, long way from baggage collection. No sign of a Customs Officer anywhere, so at least we weren’t held up there and after we had dropped off our bags at the Transfer desk – no hold up, we had just under a half hour to get across the airport.

Signage wasn’t too good, but we were directed to the correct route by very helpful staff when we asked the way and so began our trek up two flights of escalators and through the tide of incoming passengers to Security where we were herded into another sheep race with ten minutes to go to boarding time. We got through without any problems and made it to the gate with a minute to spare, very hot and tired after our rapid walk – how I wish I had insisted on Rab having a wheelchair because her knees were giving her gyp – only to find yet another race with all the sheep standing in line? WTF? No seats at a departure gate??? We went and sat in a nearby café until the line was short enough for us to join and keep moving and were finally seated after my usual grumble about the fact that some other pr*ck had put his or her luggage in my overhead locker. Fortunately there were others late to board and I nabbed their space to their annoyance. The flight down to Cape Town comfortable, the food appalling and in due course we swept into Cape Town past the glory of Table Mountain spotlighted by the evening light.

On the ground we found that the airport had indeed changed significantly since our last visit – stretched to enormous length for the increased traffic of the soccer World Cup. Seems though that the designers of SAfrican airports worked on a linear basis rather than the cluster approach used in all the better major airports around the world because once again we were faced with a long walk from aircraft to baggage collection, and then another long walk to the exit. Steve was picking us up and he told us to make our way to the Departures gate as it was easier for him to park there and it would save us another long walk to the car parking area. I have to say that I was pretty well done in by the time we had got our bags loaded into his car! And I clearly looked it as both he and Judy were very concerned about me.

The setting sun made for some wonderful views of the mountains as we drove away from the airport. I would love to have got a coupe of shots, but there was no stopping on the freeway.

We made our way to Constantia and Judy Badenhorst’s home – Lusthof – where we are staying for ten days in a self-service cottage. It is a lovely place and Judy, an old pal, gave us a very warm welcome. It seemed a shame to turn down her offer of a swim and a glass of wine, but by that stage the bed was not only calling, but shouting very loudly.

We were in bed soon after nine and slept like logs – at least until 04h00 when a crowing rooster nearby announced it was time to rise. That’s a lovely sound at the right time and in the right place and we felt so good, despite the early hour that we welcomed the little fellow. Of course he didn’t know when to stop and after about half an hour, by which time we’d had our coffee and rusks we were contemplating roast chicken as a better option.

This was the scene that greeted us - more to come.