We originally came up with the idea to vacation in Africa when Madeline chose the University of Botswana as the place where she would study abroad for a semester. Macalester College encourages its students to study abroad and Madeline was interested in Africa because African Studies is one of her minors. Also, she had already spent last summer in Germany, thus was less interested in another European experience. She looked at several programs in Africa but finally settled on, and was accepted into the University of Botswana through a program offered by the Associated Colleges of the Midwest. For an account of Madeline’s experiences in Botswana, visit her blog.
She left for Africa in January along with three other students from Wake Forest University in Chicago, and the University of Chicago, and a professor from Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa. About the time of her departure, we started planning our itinerary. We ended up booking a five day safari in northern Botswana through Island Safaris and securing two grueling redeye flights—a Minneapolis to London flight, then a nine hour layover in London, followed by a London to Johannesburg flight, a short layover and a hop from Johannesburg to Gaborone, Botswana where Madeline was attending the university. We planned to make the most of our nine hours in London by taking the tube into the city and doing a short tour.
It was raining when we flew out of Minneapolis. It is always easier to leave when the weather is bad. A raging blizzard would have been OK, but then maybe the plane wouldn't have been able to take off.
Nothing exciting happened on the flight over. I read Time Magazine, and listened to podcasts of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" while Kathy watched movies and worked on crosswords. We both slept a little and tried to be comfortable in seats designed for midgets with no pain receptors.
The weather in London was cool and sunny--somewhere in the mid-30's at 10:30 AM. Spring had definitely arrived here, though. The grass was green and the daffodils were blooming in great profusion.
The trip into the city of London did not happen. There was a snafu with our one checked bag. We managed to pack light and had everything in carryon luggage, but since Madeline needed various supplies, we put all of her items in a bag that we checked all the way thru to Gaborone at Minneapolis. Checking that bag took a long time--the slowdown was mostly due to the fact that we're using paper tickets--something we had to do due to an interface issue between Northwest and South Africa Airways.
At Heathrow, we had to switch terminals, which meant taking a ten-minute shuttle ride and then going through security again. Then we had to present our paper vouchers at the South African Airways to get boarding passes. During check in, the clerk commented that we had no checked luggage. We replied that we did, in fact, have checked luggage. "Where's your checked luggage tag?" she asked. "Woops." we replied.
The next thing you would expect to happen in this scenario would be for the clerk to phone Northwest Airlines and ask them for the tag number for our checked bag. That would have been logical. That is not what happened. What really happened was the clerk informed us we would have to get the checked luggage tag number from the people at the Northwest desk. "But that will mean that we'll have to take the shuttle back to Terminal Four!" I said. "That's right." she smiled. "But then we'll have to go through security again to get into Terminal Four," I said. "That's right." she smiled. "And then we'll have to go through security again to get back into Terminal One." I said. "That's right." she smiled.
So we did that.
At the Northwest desk in Terminal 4 the Northwest clerk wondered, "Why didn't the South African Airways clerk just call us to get the luggage tag number?"
I set off the metal detector alarm both times on the foray between terminals and was patted down both times by delighted British security agents.
Other than that and the fact that the terminal is under renovation, so they recommend being at the airport three hours before your flight, and the fact that the tube ride into London takes an hour and a half, there's no good reason not to go into London (subtle sarcasm).
So we found a bench at Terminal 1 for the duration of the layover. I read Time magazine and listened to podcasts of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" while Kathy worked on crosswords.
That was London.
She left for Africa in January along with three other students from Wake Forest University in Chicago, and the University of Chicago, and a professor from Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa. About the time of her departure, we started planning our itinerary. We ended up booking a five day safari in northern Botswana through Island Safaris and securing two grueling redeye flights—a Minneapolis to London flight, then a nine hour layover in London, followed by a London to Johannesburg flight, a short layover and a hop from Johannesburg to Gaborone, Botswana where Madeline was attending the university. We planned to make the most of our nine hours in London by taking the tube into the city and doing a short tour.
It was raining when we flew out of Minneapolis. It is always easier to leave when the weather is bad. A raging blizzard would have been OK, but then maybe the plane wouldn't have been able to take off.
Nothing exciting happened on the flight over. I read Time Magazine, and listened to podcasts of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" while Kathy watched movies and worked on crosswords. We both slept a little and tried to be comfortable in seats designed for midgets with no pain receptors.
The weather in London was cool and sunny--somewhere in the mid-30's at 10:30 AM. Spring had definitely arrived here, though. The grass was green and the daffodils were blooming in great profusion.
The trip into the city of London did not happen. There was a snafu with our one checked bag. We managed to pack light and had everything in carryon luggage, but since Madeline needed various supplies, we put all of her items in a bag that we checked all the way thru to Gaborone at Minneapolis. Checking that bag took a long time--the slowdown was mostly due to the fact that we're using paper tickets--something we had to do due to an interface issue between Northwest and South Africa Airways.
At Heathrow, we had to switch terminals, which meant taking a ten-minute shuttle ride and then going through security again. Then we had to present our paper vouchers at the South African Airways to get boarding passes. During check in, the clerk commented that we had no checked luggage. We replied that we did, in fact, have checked luggage. "Where's your checked luggage tag?" she asked. "Woops." we replied.
The next thing you would expect to happen in this scenario would be for the clerk to phone Northwest Airlines and ask them for the tag number for our checked bag. That would have been logical. That is not what happened. What really happened was the clerk informed us we would have to get the checked luggage tag number from the people at the Northwest desk. "But that will mean that we'll have to take the shuttle back to Terminal Four!" I said. "That's right." she smiled. "But then we'll have to go through security again to get into Terminal Four," I said. "That's right." she smiled. "And then we'll have to go through security again to get back into Terminal One." I said. "That's right." she smiled.
So we did that.
At the Northwest desk in Terminal 4 the Northwest clerk wondered, "Why didn't the South African Airways clerk just call us to get the luggage tag number?"
I set off the metal detector alarm both times on the foray between terminals and was patted down both times by delighted British security agents.
Other than that and the fact that the terminal is under renovation, so they recommend being at the airport three hours before your flight, and the fact that the tube ride into London takes an hour and a half, there's no good reason not to go into London (subtle sarcasm).
So we found a bench at Terminal 1 for the duration of the layover. I read Time magazine and listened to podcasts of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" while Kathy worked on crosswords.
That was London.
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