My Triumphant Return to Cape Town

African Air Travel

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Cape Town is my favorite city in the whole world, so when I found out that I would be going back to Africa, I knew that a trip to South Africa was a must. The perfect opportunity came about when my good friend and travel partner, Jenny, went there for a conference in May. I hopped on a plane and shot down there to meet her for a long weekend. Actually, it wasn't quite that simple....We are in Africa, after all. 

I booked a flight online with Air Namibia with one stop in Windhoek, the capital of Nambia. However, when I arrived at the Luanda airport (aka the worst place in the world), I was told to check in with TAAG. TAAG is the Angolan airline that is not FAA approved, so is generally avoided. For whatever reason, I was about to fly on a TAAG plane for the first leg of the trip. Fine, so I go up to the counter and give the agent my passport and confirmation number. This conversation followed:

Agent: Did you confirm?

Me: I don't know. What do you mean?

Agent: (typing furiously) No, you didn't confirm. You're not on the flight list. 

Me: I don't understand.

Agent: You need to call the airline 72 hours before your flight and confirm.

Me: Well, I paid for the ticket. Isn't that confirmation?

Agent: I have your ticket here but you are not on this flight. 

Me: Ok, so you have my ticket but I can't go on the flght because I didn't call you and let you know that I was coming. Is that correct?

Agent: Yes, ma'am. 

Me: I have never heard of this in my life. 

Agent: We can put you on standby but the flight is full. Please stand over there and I will call you if a seat becomes available. 

Me: Ummmm OK. Are there any other flights to Cape Town? 

Agent. No. 

Me: Perfect. 

The agent relayed this information so matter-of-factly that I started doutbting myself. "Is this a thing? No. This is crazy, right? RSPV for a flight?" Finally, just as the flight was about to board, the agent waved me over and gave me my ticket, which he had all along. 

Now comes the really fun part. After going through security, men and women are separated and lined up in front of a small office to be questioned and strip searched. Luckily, I had been warned of this process. Apparently, if you have any kwanza, which is Angola's currency, it is taken from you, especially if you don't speak Portuguese. I'm not sure if this is an official policy, but to be on the safe side, I didn't bring any with me. The security agent in the office asked me how much money I had and then searched me. After finding nothing, she disappointedly waved me through. Sucker!

I settle into my seat around 7am and quickly fall asleep. That was a lot of activity for one morning! I awake a few hours later as the plane lands. Assuming we are in Windhoek for my layover, I gather my belongings and get ready to disembark. "You can leave your stuff on the plane," the flight attendant says. I look at her quizzically as I notice that none of the passengers are getting their suitcases from the overhead compartments.  The flight attendant recognizes my confusion and remarks, "We are in Lubango." Lubango is another city in Angola! How silly of me to think that we would only be making scheduled stops. 

After one of the most confusing days of my life, I eventually made it to Cape Town. I walked out of the airport and inhaled the crisp, clean air. Ahhhhh....this trip would literally be a breath of fresh air.

Table Mountain

We ate delicious, reasonably priced food, spoke English to everyone, and walked all around the city without getting mugged. Freedom! We even sang along to "Sweet Caroline" at a cheesy sports bar. Cape Town is pretty much America - with cooler accents and slightly more black people.

The Waterfront

Shark Attack!

Anyone who knows me can tell you that animals are not exactly my thing. How Jenny convinced me to go diving with great white sharks, I'll never know. I am assuming there was alcohol involved. Although it appears that I am excited to enter a cage surrounded by man-eating predators, this is actually the face of sheer terror. 

The first time I went underwater, I stared directly into the eye of a great white shark, which was about 1 foot away from me. I completely forgot how to hold my breath, swallowed a mouthful of seawater, and immediately popped my head to the surface and yelled, "Can I get out now?" Money well spent.

Look at that thing, clearly plotting my demise. Good thing thing I got out of there in time.