I'm back.

Well, I’m back! Yesterday, I arrived in Cape Town to start UChicago’s abroad program, “African Civilization in Africa.” Getting here, though, was not as simple as intended: I arrived a full twenty-four hours after my scheduled arrival.

It all started at O’Hare International (to which I had flown to early in the morning of January 2), where I was going to meet Sophie to fly out to Amsterdam and, from there, to Cape Town. We checked in without a problem, and were even able to arrange to have seats next to each other. At the gate, were notified that our flight was to be delayed for a half hour, but we weren’t too worried: our lay-over in Amsterdam was for four hours, so a half hour delay didn’t cause us much stress. After about an hour’s worth of delay, KLM kindly informed us that our plane was in fact missing a vital mechanical part, a part that, oddly enough, could only be found in Amsterdam. As a result, the flight was to be delayed twenty-four hours. We were assured time and time again by KLM agents at the airport that, were we to show up again, at the same time, the following day, everything would be just fine: we would be put on the same flight, and be secured seats on the Amsterdam – Cape Town flight twenty-four hours after our original reservation.

Interestingly enough, while on the phone with the airline, my mother discovered that, in fact, there were no seats available on the Amsterdam – Cape Town flight the following the day and, had we flown to Amsterdam on the 3^rd, we would have been stuck there until Friday: only then would we be able to get seats on a flight to Cape Town. Despite Amsterdam’s clear charms and interesting history, Sophie and I were adamantly against this plan. We searched for an alternative. Finally, after much, much debate on the phone with the airline, my mother and in person with the sly, good-for-nothing, rude KLM agents, we settled on an itinerary that would first take us to Atlanta, then to Johannesburg, and then, finally, to Cape Town. It seemed easy enough: our bags were to be checked all the way from Chicago to Cape Town, we were to have plenty of time in both Atlanta and Johannesburg to make our connecting flights. We would be in Cape Town by 8:15pm.

Well. Things went smoothly enough, until we reached Johannesburg. Having already landed thirty minutes late, and gotten of the plane at the very end (we were seated in the second-to-last row), we only had forty minutes to make our connection. Immigration. Fifteen minutes gone. And then, as if only to make our lives more miserable than they already were, we were informed that we would, in fact, have to pick up our luggage at baggage claim, and then recheck it at the check-in counter. Our flight had already departed by the time we reached the check in counter.

But that wasn’t the end. At the check in counter (our flight was on South African Airways), we were told that we could not simply be put on the next flight that evening, but that Delta would have to provide us with some form of documentation that would allow for that. Off to the other side of the airport to obtain said document. But no, of course not. You see, that would be too easy. Instead, Delta initially refused to accommodate us, since the delay was due to weather conditions, a matter entirely out of the control (but clearly in ours). Well, I wasn’t prepared to accept that as an answer. After reminding myself , and demonstrating to others, that I am a debater, along with Sophie’s angry and exasperated quips, Delta caved. Off to check for the 8:15pm flight to Cape Town, with just over an hour left.

Oh, you thought it was over? Too bad. South African Airlines tells us that we need a new ticket number to check in, and we must go to the ticket counter before checking in. Sure. Until, surprisingly, the ticket counter tells us that there is no need for this new ticket number. Great! Back to check in. But only if we agree to pay the fees for our baggage, something that we already did back in Chicago, when we – remember – were assured that our bags were to go all the way through to Cape Town. Mom had told me of an agreement that Delta and South African Airways share concerning international luggage, which should guarantee that, once paid for, bags do not need to be charged twice. South African Airways enjoyed my mom’s ability to create mythical tales.

Finally. On the plane. Finally, two hours later, a 10:15pm, in Cape Town. Finally, after a pre-arranged taxi to our living quarters, home.

(More to come about what it's like here soon.)