Splashdown

The flat snow-covered plains of France swept by underneath the plane mile after mile as I gazed out the window on the flight south from London to Entebbe. Suddenly the farmland was replaced by the sharp teeth of the Pyrenees which guarded the passage to the sunny climes of Spain. The Mediterranean next came into view followed by my first glimpse of Africa which was unexpected to say the least. Looking down as the coast came into view, I saw the shoreline rise up to a range of snow-covered mountains that extended many miles from the coast. After all my mental imagery of Africa as the land of the steamy jungle and hot desert sands it was surprising to see North Africa with significant amounts of snow and looking quite wintery to say the least. Eventually though the Sahara won out and the snowy ranges gave way to hours upon hours of sand and darkness fell.

Flying into a new third world country at night is always a bit of a disconcerting thing I have found, whether you experience the unsettled feeling before the fact or when you actually arrive. Coming into a poorer seemingly less safe country alone where you don't know the language, geography, or customs always seems to provoke some moment of anxiety during the preparations for the trip when some of your worst fears float in and out subconsciously and you picture yourself being mugged by thugs as soon as you step outside the door.

This moment came and went a few days before I left on this trip and as our plane banked over Lake Victoria to land in Entebbe I had no apprehension only a desire to get off the plane after too many hours of being stationary. Two hours later, after unsuccessfully searching for my bags that decided to stop and see the sights of London, I was riding in a taxi breathing in the humid air of Lake Victoria with a moon hanging languidly in the midnight sky amazed that I was actually in Africa.