Arrival

I’m on the security queue at the sparkling new Heathrow terminal 5 when it suddenly hits me. The last few days, if not weeks have been filled with organising this and that, sourcing the camera gear, worrying about finding a comprehensive insurance. Not to mention packing up my room and going through the travel packing list over and over again. A few hours before the flight is due to leave I’m still trying to find thermal underwear in Clapham Junction – you know, for those cold winter nights. Best to be prepared for everything!

So in the queue I suddenly get a lump in my throat and my stomach turns, when I realise where I’m going. This is actually the first time it sinks in. This is not just any holiday. I’m off to Botswana with my little video camera and I’m going to be living in a tent in the wilderness for three months, helping out Anna with her human-elephant conflict research. It’s not just exciting. It’s actually a bit terrifying – but I don’t really want to admit that. It seemed like a very good idea a couple of months back when a friend who was visiting me in London mentioned that her sister might be looking for an assistant with her PhD research, and would I be interested? The next morning in a packed commuter train on my way to work, which I needed to get out of (no offence, if anyone from work is reading this) all I could think was that I could be in Botswana instead. And that’s how I’d got to this situation.

A few hours later, after some more last minute shopping at the airport (batteries, headphones, external hard drive, tape head cleaning tape – not bad going in such a short time) I’m sat down on the plane heading to Johannesburg between the Bermudan cricket team. Literally – no window or aisle seats left. This is of course the perfect chance to casually drop in the fact that I’ve actually been to a cricket match at the Lords, although I decide not to mention the unfortunate incident of ending up being blacklisted from the Pavillion.

(Completely unrelated note that I was completely impressed by the choice of in-flight films – I managed to catch two that I’ve actually wanted to see for ages: Rachel Getting Married and Burn after Reading - both brilliant. They’d also included things like a little documentary Stanley Kubrick’s boxes – what a refreshing change!)

At J’burg I treated myself to a little shoulder rub and a mini facial between flight changes – well worth it and well deserved after lugging that backpack and three pieces of hand luggage around.

My flight to Maun was a little but delayed because the pilot as stuck in traffic. I was quite baffled by this announcement until they clarified that the traffic jam was on his way to the airport, not on the runway or anything.

I successfully fooled the immigration that I was here for a holiday only and whisked through the customs with my bags containing Jaffa cakes and Hob Nobs despite the person in front of me being stopped and stripped off all her sweets and chocolate. Anna was waiting for me at the airport and as I hopped onto her ‘elephant research’ jeep all I could think was how hot and dusty it was (d’oh – Maun is next to the Kalahari desert). But I’d made it, and there was no going back.