Safari, So Good

Early the next morning, we escaped Zurich’s clinical confines for sub-Saharan Africa. A seven-hour hour flight, with a brief stopover in Nairobi, delivered us to an entirely new world. As we made our way into Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania’s capital city, we watched the sun rapidly set over rolling savannah dotted with acacia trees. After strolling past several smiling airport employees (we weren’t in Switzerland anymore), we proceeded to procure a Tanzanian arrival visa, clear customs and collect our luggage. Outside baggage claim, a friendly representative from Conservation Corporation Africa met us (albeit with the wrong name on his placard) to whisk us to our hotel.

Our twenty-minute night-time car journey gave us scant opportunity to survey the sprawl of Dar Es Salaam (meaning House of Peace in Arabic). Nevertheless, in the dark, the city resembled a miniature and much less congested version of Bombay. When the car pulled up to the Kilimanjaro Kempinski – an extraordinarily reasonably-priced swanky five-star hotel fronted by the Indian Ocean – we quickly checked in and made our way to our room. Within minutes, we were upstairs relaxing in our well-appointed room surfing the internet with the flat-screen television in the background tuned to American programming.

Early the next morning, we commenced an exhaustive journey to Ngorongoro Crater in the northeastern corner of the country. We boarded a tiny ten-seater puddle-jumper at Dar Es Salaam’s domestic airport and proceeded to make pitstops at the vivid beach island of Zanzibar (a Tanzanian protectorate) and the outfitter town of Arusha before changing planes to continue on to Manyara where we landed on an unpaved, dirt airstrip quite literally in the middle of nowhere. While waiting in Arusha, we met two friendly fellow guests, Dot and Jim, an adventurous couple from Philadelphia on their second safari vacation in two years.

After deplaning at Manyara, we were left with a two-hour ride through red soil plains and dense foliage into the actual crater, which was formed 5,000 years ago when a massive mountain (larger than Kilimanjaro) erupted and then collapsed within itself. The resulting crater (technically a caldera) became a self-contained wildlife preserve hosting an ecosystem of life attracted to its nutrient-rich soil. As a result, Ngorongoro did not feature a massive animal migration like most other wildlife-rich areas in sub-Saharan Africa where animal sightings were much less guaranteed.

When we finally arrived at Ngorongoro Crater Lodge, we were led to a private Masai hut bathed with luxurious décor and overlooking the crater floor below. With the late afternoon approaching, we relaxed on the patio to take in the views before settling by the fireplace with a glass of sherry in hand.

In the evening, a Masai guide (responsible for protecting us from any wild buffalo attacks) led us to the main lodge building for drinks and dinner with the other guests. As we finished our main course, the entire lodge staff assembled into a long procession and began singing and dancing. We assumed that we were being regaled by the standard evening entertainment. It was only when everyone congregated at our table with chocolate cake and candles that we realized that we were being wished a happy (early) anniversary. As we speechlessly watched it unfold before us, we were simultaneously touched and profoundly embarrassed. As we left the lodge, a number of other families thoughtfully added their congratulations and best wishes.

At 6:00 a.m. the following day, we arose for a sunrise safari in Ngorongoro Crater, gingerly sneaking past a herd of water buffalo stationed just a few yards away from our front door. Even bundled into our fleece jackets and huddled into blankets in the jeep, we were surprised by the briskness of the morning. Accompanying us on the excursion was our driver, Aziza (the only female guide in all of Tanzania) as well as Dot and Jim. As our Land Cruiser descended into the crater via rough, uneven dirt roads, a thick mist enveloped the ground. A mere hour later, as the sun rose and intensified, the mist burned off to reveal an African wonderland straight out of National Geographic.

Despite rules forbidding off-road driving in Ngorongoro Crater National Park, we were still treated up close to a veritable living cocktail of the animal kingdom over the next several hours. Our sightings included hippos sleeping in the muddy riverbank with flamingos by their side, a large herd of zebras crossing the road in single file, a pair of cheetahs with a fresh kill in their jaws and a lone elephant feasting on a lunch on freshly-upturned tree branches and shoots. The clear highlight of our safari was observing a lion and lioness sleeping together in the tall grass. The hours flew by as we stood basking in the sun with our collective heads poking out of the open air roof of our 4x4. In the late morning, we finally stopped for a picnic breakfast where Aziza capably swatted away a would-be burglar (in the form of a monkey boasting extremely-colorful family jewels) to save our meal.

We finally headed back to the lodge in the afternoon, exhilarated by our time with the animals in their own habitat. After a sunny outdoor lunch on the patio of the main lodge building, we returned to our suite for a much-needed nap. By the time we awoke, dinner time beckoned, and we made our way to the lodge to compare animal sightings with the other guests assembled. Returning to our room, we were heartened by the thought that we had seen Ngorogoro's full portfolio of beasts, save for the elusive tree leopard and black rhino.

A Swiss Miss

Our return flight from Prague brought us to Zurich Airport for the third and mercifully final time in two months. We had originally planned to spend a couple of days in Zurich with Vik’s Stanford friend Franco and his family, but we ended up missing each other after a date change was compelled by our African safari operator. Without Franco’s local guidance, we were left to our own devices in the Swiss hub, a circumstance which ended up yielding mixed results. After collecting our bags promptly before noon, we made our way expectantly to the ticketing desk for SAS (the only airline in Zurich with the facilities to issue United tickets). Having being previously assured by United that the reissuing of our stolen around-the-world tickets would be a mere formality, we were a bit dubious. To our credit, we left ourselves several extra hours just in case we encountered any obstacles. With that being said, nothing could have prepared us for the ordeal we were about to endure. As we strode up to the SAS desk, we were immediately cast aside as an annoyance by the aloof, raven-haired woman situated behind the desk ostensibly employed to assist customers. The situation quickly went from bad to worse when our case was referred to one squeaky-pitched Rene Burger, who quickly acquitted himself as the most obnoxious and insufferable Rene of all time (easily eclipsing Rene Auberjonois, “Clayton” of Benson fame). Rene’s contemptuous nature had clearly been honed with years of practice. He first refused to reissue tickets without first seeing the originals. When we pointed out the rather obvious fact that the tickets were not in our possession (and thus required replacement), he demanded to see a police report. In the next fifteen minutes, we labored to explain that we had been through all of this on the phone with United already and simply needed the tickets reissued. Rene proceeded to imperiously pull up our reservation record, confer with some nameless European contacts on the phone and finally declare that he would not ticket us because he considered our reservation to be “fishy.” When we would not relent, he decided that he could only issue a ticket taking us directly to Tanzania and then directly back to the U..S. (truncating our itinerary of stops in South Africa, Senegal and Portugal). Shocked and more than just a bit dismayed, we were compelled to pull out our computer to place a VOIP call United’s woeful customer service back in the U.S. (and at 6 a.m. local time). Minutes soon dragged on into eternity. When we finally engaged a helpful service manager some time later, Rene was eavesdropping on our conversation. Things soon went from bad to worse. When Vik relayed to the disbelieving United rep that an SAS employee was refusing to help us, Rene started yelling. He threatened to call the police and have Vik prosecuted for slander. As if on cue, the call with United disconnected. With the afternoon hours quickly evaporating and our hopes of completing the around-the-world journey evaporating, Kaberi suggested that we employ a division of labor. She remained before Rene to concurrently stroke his ego and plead our case while Vik disappeared to an adjacent terminal to reconnect with United. Over the next two hours, Kaberi managed to attract the attention of Zurich Airport’s lone United employee to intercede on our behalf. Meanwhile, Vik learned from United that several legs of our journey were in hidden fields that SAS could not see. The lackadaisical United rep suggested that we make our way to Frankfurt (some 200 miles away) to have our reservation reticketed. After another hour had elapsed, fate had taken a friendly turn in our direction. Someone in SAS’ back office had managed to pull up our full travel record. Instead of apologizing to us for his mistake, Rene proceeded to lecture us for not having better documentation. After paying a reissuing fee and an additional (and unwarranted) change fee for good measure, Rene finally printed out our tickets. As he flashed us an oily smile, it took all of our collective willpower not to punch him in the face. Instead, we thanked him politely and walked away. With our paper tickets now securely in our hands, we resolved to make the most of or afternoon in Zurich. Using the city’s impressive and comprehensive public transportation system, we made our way by train and then bus to our hotel in the city center. After briefly settling into our tiny-but-expensive hotel room (for which we paid a premium not to have air conditioning, a decent television or a waterproof shower door), we forlornly headed to the Zurich waterfront via city tram. Rousing our spirits, Kaberi led us on a walking tour of the town beginning from the magnificent lakefront. As we made our way along the river, we encountered the Fraumunster church housing the famed Chagall stained glass choir windows and St. Peter's Church boasting the largest clock face in Europe. In the evening, we ventured fifteen minutes from the hotel past Zurich’s red light district to a lively street bursting with nightlife. On the recommendation of one of the hotel’s front desk staffmembers, we stopped at Yosef for an open-air dinner of tapas-sized epicurean delights. As we toasted, we realized to our surprise that we had managed to end the day on a pleasant note after a remarkably-miserable start. We also hoped that we had fulfilled our quota of dealings with smallminded and meanspirited European airline employees.