Entebbe Airport

OK, so I've been very bad in getting back to my travel blog after the mad rush of last fall's travels. So, I thought I would get back to filling in some of the blanks. Here are some excerpts from my actual travel journal in regards to my crazy trip through the Entebbe Airport in Kampala, Uganda on Friday 9 November 2007. I had decided to leave Kenya early for several reasons and embarked on a mad five flight odyssey from Eldoret, Kenya to Burlington that took around 36 hours. A big chunk of the time was spent in the infamous Entebbe Airport in Kampala. I have a theory that the Israelis never actually raided Entebbe because there were hostages - rather, I think they were just trying to get trapped flyers out (grin). I ended up spending around ten hours trapped in the airport and had plenty of time to write in my journal.

"I've made it to Entebbe Airport in Kampala, Uganda, and arrived a little after 2:00 p.m. I'm not supposed to fly out until midnight, which is just as well because it may take that long to sort out this mess. I walked into the terminal and the only lines were for immigration. So I ended up at the makeshift desk (the whole place is under renovation) talking to a woman by the name of Harriet. For some reason there is no plan for just moving on to a transferral flight, let alone the confusion over changing my ticket. Harriet is trying to call someone from Brussels Air, which is co-listed with American, but no one is answering. How can you have a terminal that doesn't lead to other flights? Bizarre. Nevertheless, Harriet is unfailingly pleasant and patient. Plus, while I was sitting here I saw my suitcase, which is supposed to be checked through to New York, spinning around on the carousel, so I grabbed it. Absolutely amazing. The latest is that I am in fact booked on the midnight flight, so now we're just waiting to figure out how I pay the extra fee. I'm glad I didn't have a two hour layover as compared to ten. Oh, and it's noticeably hotter and more humid than Nairobi. From the window of the airport you can see Lake Victoria and the headwaters of the Nile, which is pretty cool - and a trip down the Nile might be my only way out of here . . .

It's now a little after 4:00 and I've made it up to the transit lounge, which is also under construction. They have taken my passport and my ticket, over my strong objection, because that is how they do things here. Again, I'm still unclear on why I couldn't just go to the American/Brussels office and pick up my own tickets, but apparently that would require one to pass through immigration - and buy a visa to walk to the other side of the airport. So, I'm stuck up here in a noisy, under-construction transit area with no passport and no tickets. Allegedly around 7:00 or 8:pp they will come find me with my passport and my actual boarding passes. A representative from Brussels Air finally came down to tell me all this and then pass me on to Henry who took me up here. Henry is a very pleasant young man who has been assigned to look after me. He pops up occasionally to see if I need anything. I still don't know how I am supposed to pay the ticket change. Henry ran off to change my Kenyan shillings into dollars, for which I gave him $2 as a carrying charge (which made him very happy) . . .

The adventure continues. I dropped into the cafeteria for fish and chips and to watch CNN. However, the reception was terrible and kept getting worse until they finally shut it off. So, then I went to take a nap on the seats next to the restaurant. I had not quite drifted off when I heard, "Mr Gary," and it was Henry introducing me to his replacement, Ambrose - which was actually a nice thing to do because now I had someone to look for in case of disaster. Once again, I brought up the question of paying the extra fee to change the ticket. Ambrose didn't know but said he would check on it for me - and, true to his word, he returned before I had gotten to sleep. He needed $200 for the change, which was OK except that I did not have $200 in cash. We decided that we would go find an ATM, although I kept bringing up the idea of actually going to the ticket office. We went back through immigration - with the tired nod of this old agent's head (although he kept my passport - Ambrose had returned it finally - now it was gone again) and then through security - this time with the nod of a young woman's head - and made it to the ticket office. Somehow I managed to talk him into that aproach as compared to the ATM approach, mainly because he realized that no one would really want Ugandan shillings (exchange rate - 1800 to one US dollar). At the office we found the woman I talked to before and she made it happen - and I actually have a bulkhead seat. She also signed off on the my ticket so that I could go sit in the Business Lounge because I had been here so long. Then we went downstairs to actually pick up the ticket - went through security and had my laotp bag searched - and even picked up my ticket. For his trouble I gave Ambrose $5, which probably made his year. So, I have my passport back, my boarding pass with bulkhead seat, a receipt for the price change, and the trip from Brussels to NY is confirmed. Whew. . .

It's almost 9:00 p.m. and I've finally made my way to the Business class lounge. If nothing else the couches are very comfortable. I did manage a brief nap on the uncomfortable chairs outside, but I could do some serious damage on these. So, I'm sitting here reading Lipstick Jihad and enjoying a Bell Lager, which is apparently Uganda's best beer. I asked if they had Tusker, a Kenyan beer, and they were justifiably appalled, albeit quietly so. . .