The unpleasant journey to the most pleasant place...

Yep. I think our trip to Johannesburg was the most unpleasant trip to somewhere, anywhere, I have ever had in my entire life. We had actually been looking forward to flying with Air France, as they had better luggage (especially carry on) rules than British Airways, and that we didn't have to go through Heathrow. Now we're going to have to find another airline for our next trip to the region... *sigh*

So what went very, very wrong? First of all, after waking up at 3 am to get to the airport in time for a 6 am flight to Paris, the plane was late leaving from Oslo. Because of some fuck-up with somebody's tickets. Because we departed late, we knew we would arrive in Paris late. We told the flight attendants about this (three flight attendants, all three male in case you're interested, as I personally found it amusing) and asked them to make sure they didn't leave without us and that someone is at the arrival gate to point out where we are supposed to go. The Three Stooges said it would be no problem catching our plane to Johannesburg, that we would arrive on time. They said we would have plenty of time. They said it would be no problem switching terminals...

What a load of merde. When we landed, it was well past the boarding time for the flight to Johannesburg. And not only could we not find the right terminal, none of the Charles de Gaulle staff that we asked for assistance was willing to help us. In fact, they went out of their way to be very rude and unhelpful. So we were running, literally, from one place to the other. We finally met one guy at the gate where we were supposed to go to in the first place who helped us to the desk where we got booked on the next flight to Johannesburg (to leave in the evening). He didn't look ethnic French though. North African, I think...

So we were stuck at CDG for 12 more hours (I guess the Three Losers were right in saying we would have plenty of time - hah!). Nobody was giving us any information. Nobody knew anything or spoke English or both. For being stuck in the damn place for 12 hours for something that was not our fault but Air France's, we were only given some lousy vouchers for a sandwich and a drink at the café at the terminal. These sandwiches looked very unappetizing; you'd think they'd manage to serve something decent in a country that prides itself on its cuisine, but no. They couldn't do something as simple as that...

After making a few phone calls (I had to cancel for the guest house we were going to stay at in Johannesburg and re-arrange pickup for our safari) and reading for a little while, we needed some food. I was able to get a salad instead of the nasty sandwich (I can't eat white bread as it bugs my stomach) and some Perrier. We also bought some mini bottles of really lousy wine (Just Merlot, by Paul Sapin) at the café, to go with our free "food." We found out that we were supposed to be in a different terminal for our late flight while trying to find out where we could get a proper meal. You know, at a restaurant or something. We were told to go to that terminal for our flight and that there were restaurants there. When we got to that terminal, we were told that the restaurants were in yet another terminal, not the one where we just moved over to. This terminal was like the other one – only a substandard café serving unappetizing baguette sandwiches. However, we weren't allowed to leave the terminal we were in...

Drastic measures had to be taken. I started crying (literally – flood out of my eyes) and whining about low blood sugar and how I needed to eat and not just any kind of food but proteiny meaty food and that I was allergic to wheat (not true) and thus couldn't eat bread and that I was going to be sick. Finally, after a bit of drama and pretending to be nearly fainting and more crying, we were allowed through to the terminal where they had restaurants.

And you think that was the end of the story? Ooooh, noooo. After checking out the dumps, we ended up in a place called Maxim's Restaurant; they had the best menu and seemed like an OK place. We sat down and ordered duck confit and some red wine. The food came quite quickly, and we both started to eat. I started chomping on my duck, potatoes, and salad and boyfriend of feitpingvin started chomping on his duck, potatoes, and... what the? There was a spider in the salad. A big, long-legged spider. Dead, but still...

We looked at one another and burst out laughing. There really wasn't much more we could do. What else could possibly go wrong?

Boyfriend of feitpingvin called the waiter over to our table (he was and probably still is a lovely South Asian fellow). He was horrified at the sight of the spider. He called his manager, who was also horrified. They whisked the plate back into the kitchen (and we could hear some yelling in French) and brought out a new one pronto (and no, it wasn't the same food re-arranged, it was a new plate). We were nice about it though (hard to not be nice while laughing and snickering) – the waiter was really a nice guy and well, shit happens sometimes and they were professional in dealing with it. Boyfriend of feitpingvin got his meal on the house, for the trouble...

The food wasn't too bad. Neither was the wine:

Cotes du Rhone Reservé Honoré Laubanel
color: deep red-violet
nose: red apples, (dark) red roses, flowers/perfume
palate: sharp with a hint of bitterness. Dark chocolate, plums, prunes. Pleasant tannins but on the soft side. Very nice with duck and probably other food, but not really a wine to drink alone.
grade: :-)+ with food, :-) alone

When we went back to the terminal for the flight to Johannesburg, the «security» peon took away this little lightweight aluminum ring that was on my backpack. Apparently, it could be used as a brass knuckle. At least it is what Security Peon claimed. Now this takes the cake when it comes to the kind of bullshit "security" staff come up with. This ring could barely go around my knuckles to be used as a brass knuckle to begin with. And if I did have small enough hands to use it, I seriously doubt it would do much damage. But there was nothing I could do, as useless clods like that stupid bitch are on constant power trips on the job, as that's the only place where anyone even bothers to sort of notice them.

What makes this incident all the more bullshit, and convinces me that "security" is all for show and nothing else, was that we saw this woman with an armful of metal bracelets. Now if anything could be used as a weapon, that could. Yet she had her big metal bracelets and I didn't have my pathetic little aluminium ring. What's up with that?

We finally got on the plane, and to make a long story short, the flight was unpleasant. The food was surprisingly quite OK though...

Arrival at Johannesburg was a relief. Going through passport control, customs, and getting our luggage was very pain-free, plus it took less than an hour from when we landed. Another plus was the staff working passports, customs, etc. They were very friendly. And smiling. Who would have thought it could be so difficult?

I'll write more about O. R. Tambo International Airport later on. CDG has lots to learn from Tambo. CDG is an unbelievably bad airport where only a minute minority can do anything right (I mean, even teeny tiny airports in the middle-of-nowhere Norway can manage to serve travellers a hot meal), and a shame for all "first world" nations everywhere. Just like most "first world" air travel these days, I suppose...

After the quick jaunt through customs etc., we finally met our contact for our safari, took some money out of the ATM, met some others who were also going on the safari, and we were on our way to Kruger...