After four flights and 48 hours of travel time, Logan and I finally made it to South Africa Wednesday morning. We arrived 12 hours later than we had originally planned. Even so, we arrived in high spirits.
The kink in the itinerary was in Detroit. Maintenance problems with the plane led to a five hour delay (serious problems, right?). As we were leaving Detroit, our best case scenario - according to Delta - was a connection through Atlanta that would get us to South Africa on Friday, three days later than planned, and after the opening match. Imagine our excitement when we were told that we had nothing to worry about: the World Cup was only three trips across the Atlantic away! With that in mind, we closed our eyes to pass the time on the flight to Amsterdam, both to sleep and to pray for a "World Cup miracle" connection to get us into the airport that millions of soccer fans were also trying to fly into this week. Upon arrival, we got news that our prayers were answered. In the end, we just had to spend a few extra hours in Amsterdam fly to Paris, and hop onto an AirFrance flight en route to Joburg.
Itinerary headaches aside, the travel was fun. Logan and I observed serious World Cup fever in both Amsterdam and Paris, with national team scarves and jerseys for sale all over the airports. The trip's highlight was the flight from Paris, which had the feel of a United Nations assembly. Fans from countries all over the world sat around us, all sharing our excitement for the World Cup. To sweeten the deal, the Slovakian national team joined our flight, all dressed up in matching suits for their televised arrival.
Welcome to South Africa
In the Joburg terminal we were welcomed by billboards of Nelson Mandela, President Jacob Zuma, and massive images of the stadium sites across the country. After clearing customs, we walked out into an arrival hall where hundreds stood to welcome their guests, all blowing "Vuvuzelas", long plastic horns that are becoming the symbol for the tournament here (more in another post to follow). The horns and people, along with soccer decorations as far as the eye could see, made the welcome hall feel like a stadium itself. Logan and I felt at home.
Our hosts met us and drove us to their home in a Johannesburg suburb. Cars here are all flying national team car flags, and street vendors are selling flags from all of the competing nations in addition to Vuvuzelas, jerseys, and soccer balls. Our SUV is flying a car flag on each side: one US, one South African. Most pedestrians and shopkeepers here wear South Africa's jersey almost daily; it is clear that the World Cup has completely permeated and unified the society.
When we arrived at the home of our gracious hosts, friends we knew from our time spent living in Europe during middle school, World Cup coverage was all over the TV. A parade was taking place downtown, where 180,o00 South Africans were cheering on their national team two days ahead of their opening match.
Logan and I hardly had time to take all of this in as we arrived, tired from the trip but completely thrilled to be here. Yet just as we prepared to sit down to relax and take a much needed nap, our hosts gave us some completely unexpected news. "We're going away for the weekend. And you're coming."
Translation: pack your bags -- we're taking you on a few Safaris before the World Cup kicks off. Thrilled, tired, and a bit confused, Logan and I packed a bag for the next four nights.
