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I was awake before dawn, having gone to bed early. I dreamed I was at Disney's EPCOT Center, where they had just put in some new rides, such as bumper cars where the goal was to injure the other riders as much as possible. The cars accelerated after each collision. I also dreamed about kayaking on an artificial river with some big waterfalls. I thought it sounded like it was raining outside, but when the sun came up, it was clear. I got moving slowly, going to breakfast at 9 and having just the basic buffet, to conserve my remaining Ugandan shillings.
Around 10:00, I brought my bags down to the desk and checked out, paying the full $160 bill, including dinner Friday, in 10,000 shilling notes. That left me with $25,000 shillings for the cab to the airport, which the receptionist called for me. I also had about 8,000 shillings left for lunch, more than I would probably need. I would pay the departure tax with a US $20 bill. The cab driver played a muzak tape on the way out of town. Many streets were now familiar from yesterday's walks. We stopped briefly for gas, and pulled out just in front of a truck, which blew its horn loudly. There was a lot of construction along the way. I had read that there were many craft shops on this road, but saw only one. I took a picture of Lake Victoria as we came into Entebbe, which is a pleasant-looking peaceful little town. A lot of people surrounded the churches this Sunday morning. We passed a lake-front disco, and the old air terminal famous for the 1976 hijacking, and arrived at the airport just before 11:00.
On the way, the driver asked me about Africans in America. I told him there were many, especially in the South and in the cities. He said they must be living very well, and I had to agree. The Africans in America are wealthy indeed, compared to those in Uganda. I mentioned also that my boss is African. When I departed the car, the driver said I would probably be bored at the airport, waiting so long for my 2 PM flight. This may be true, but I feel more comfortable being early than rushing for a plane. A couple of people recommended seeing the zoo in Entebbe while I waited, but that would be trouble with all my luggage. I stopped in the cafe for an early lunch and asked if anything was available yet. They said the roasted chicken and fries were ready. I ordered these with an Orange Crush, using about half of my 8,000 shillings. While waiting, I removed the film from my cameras and put it in the bag I woul have hand-inspected. I spent most of my remaining shillings on a box of Orange Creme cookies, some M&M's and another Orange Crush. That left me with about $1 which I kept in case there were drinks in the departure area.
The board said the Air Tanzania flight to Kilimanjaro Airport was now scheduled for 3:15, over an hour late. I would have lots of time to wait. I passed my bags through the X-ray, handing my film around. They wanted to see a "long rod" in my duffle bag, and I showed them my walking stick. They asked what it was for, and I said I would climb Kilimanjaro, and had been walking in the Rwenzoris. They asked how I liked the Rwenzoris, and I said they were beautiful, but cold. Ugandans, who dress warmly even when it is hot out, think of the Rwenzoris as being a very cold place. It was about 80o F inside the airport, and Ugandans probably think this is cool.
Air Tanzania opened a checkin line at 12:30, and I was third to check in. My repacking had been more successful than I expected: my checked bag weighed only 12 kg, and they didn't weigh the carryon bag, where I had put more compact but heavy items, so that the bag would look lighter than it was. (I was also carrying all my camera equipment on my body rather than in the bags, to be sure the bags were below the weight limit.) My travel agent had warned me of possible trouble with the ticket, since it had cost only $10 for what was supposed to be a $150 flight, but I had no problem. I paid the $20 departure tax and entered the departure area. There were some stores and a cafe here, but I had eaten already, so I went straight to the gate and went through the metal detector. The X-ray here was covered, so they just felt my bags by hand and looked at my big zoom lens. The inspector said I would be bored checking in so soon, but I just wanted to relax until the flight came. I said I would read my Lonely Planet book, which was also in my hand (in case the pack was weighed).
An Air Uganda flight was preparing to leave. Once it departed, there were just three people waiting at gate 2. I reloaded my films into their canisters and sorted them (I number them with a marker), then relaxed to await the flight. I also packed my heavy boots away (wearing them also lightens the packs), and switched to cooler Tevas. The next flight departing would be Kenya Airways to Arusha. I ate some biscuits I had been carrying since Bwindi. I should have brought some water, but had been concerned about the weight. The Entebbe airport is pleasant and modern, but could use some air conditioning. I ate a few cookies, but will save most of them for snacks on Kilimanjaro.
The Air Tanzania flight finally arrived, a small jet. Before boarding, we were to point out our luggage lined up next to the plane. The plane looked nicer than the Kenya Airways plane I took to Entebbe. It was actually cool inside the plane, which was not very full. I took a window seat on the side facing north, which I hoped would have a view of Kilimanjaro. We flew on schedule, with Lake Victoria sinking into the horizon below. The flight would be just over an hour. We received roast beef sandwiches (which were little more than bread with a bit of meat) and a canned soft drink. I got a Fanta. Beer was available also. We flew over some very dry land and a big crater after crossing the lake, and began our descent with Mt. Mera visible to the left. Kilimanjaro was ahead of the plane, but never became visible.
After landing, my yellow fever certificate was checked for the first time. Few passengers got off here - most were continuing to Dar es Salaam, so Tanzanian immigration went quickly. Customs went smoothely too. There were no questions about my bags, just about where I had been, my occupation, and where I was going. When I said Moshi, the customs officer said "Oh, you are climbing the mountain", and he asked if I had transport. I said that Shah Tours at Mountain Inn was arranging the climb, but I had not arranged transport. He directed me to a shuttle booth outside the customs gate, where a sign indicated a $50 fare to Moshi, as I had been informed by Shah Tours.
I never made it to the booth, being immediately accosted by a couple of men who grabbed my bags and told me to come to their car. A large, older man followed, saying they were not his drivers, and that I had to go to Arusha with him to get a shuttle to Moshi, because his booth at the airport was now closed. (It was just after 5 PM.) I insisted on going to Mountain Inn, and the men said this was fine, though they clearly had plans of their own. But I didn't want to go to Arusha with the "official" guy - it was the wrong way - and ended up in a car with the two men, John and an associate, who said they had a new safari company called Buffalo Safaris. They wanted to arrange my climb, and showed me a book of comments from customers - presumably happy ones - although few were in English. I lied and said I had given Shah Tours a 50% deposit, putting an end to the issue, though I left open the possibility of a wildlife safari later.
The road to Moshi was in beautiful condition, and the ride went fast across the arid plain. A big dust devil popped up once, and Kilimanjaro was visible through the clouds. As we entered Moshi, the car's muffler fell off, and I began to doubt we would make it to the hotel. One of the men found some wire and tied the muffler back on, and we sputtered out of town a few more miles to Mountain Inn, a nice looking place a bit off the main road.
The lady at the hotel was expecting me. I showed her my fax. Mr. Shah would be out until 7:30, she said, but she showed me to a room, which was basic and uncarpeted, but in decent condition. The shower was the sort (with no stall or curtain) that got the whole bathroom wet. My dinner order was taken, and I requested steak. Then I showered. Hot water was available, but slow to come.
As the sun set, I went out to sit on the large porch surrounding the main part of the hotel. Around 7:30, a young Indian lady came to meet me. She was Bijal, who had sent me the faxes. She went over my itinerary and an equipment list. I would need only a tent, for $5 a day. She suggested tipping the guide $50 - $100, and each porter $10 - $15. This was more than I tipped in the Rwenzoris, but Kilimanjaro climbs are more expensive as well. Bijal showed me a book of pictures, including a picture of my guide, Tobias, who she said is their most experienced guide on the Machame route, which is more difficult than the more common Machame route, by which I would descend.
An older man, Mr. Shah, came and asked me how I had arrived. He said a man with a placard had been waiting for me, but didn't see me, only "three old ladies" arrive from my flight. Certainly, I never saw the placard (partly because of the Buffalo Safari men), and the fax hadn't told me they were sending a driver, but only said the ride was $50.
Another man told me my dinner was ready, and I was escorted to an upstairs dining patio, a pleasant breezy place with candles on the tables. One other group was dining here tonight. Dinner began with a stuffed avocado vinegarette and roll, followed by "French" Onion Soup (resembling an Indian soup, actually) and then my steak, served with boiled potatoes and carrots and a salad. A couple of small bananas were served for dessert. I was not familiar with the beers here yet, so I asked which was most popular, and tried a Tusker, a popular Kenyan brand. I finished with coffee, and went back to my room to pack for the climb, which took me until around 11 PM.
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