Running at 36k feet – the unwritten story
I was supposed to write this story two weeks ago, February 16 to be precise, but this did not happen. Read the original script to discover why this story was not written after all…
Writing this at 36k feet was not my idea of a blog story, but when you are stuck with 2hours of nothing, you are tempted to get busy.
When I set off with fellow runners from the accommodation quarters at the outskirts of Addis, we had that first delay when a colleague decided that there was ‘no hurry in Africa’ and kept the six of us waiting for her in the chartered van. That 20 minute delay passed unnoticed, or unvoiced, though you could see it on the faces that none was amused.
Waiting
We were kept waiting at the departure lounge for another hour – just waiting for the boarding time. When the clock hit 0955hrs, on this Saturday morning, the impatient runners could not take it anymore, so they went ahead and queued on the check-in counter within the formal invitation. Finally, with a queue already formed, the lady was forced to allow the people through, down from first floor to ground level, where a taxi way bus was waiting to move the bus load to the waiting plane. Yet another check-in and I was finally seated at the extreme rear of the 767-300ER, the 33rd row. I have never been this far, but two ‘bodyguardesses’ kept me tamed. This bird was full to capacity – 237 passengers in total.
The 1040hours departure did not happen, until fifteen minutes later. Ten minutes before departure, 16 overhead screens, 8 on either side of the aisle, each about 10inch size dropped from the overhead compartment. We were subjected to 10 minutes of safety demonstrations, which went a long way to unsettle us – but life continues.
Temperatures
Takeoffs have a way of unnerving the body, but seating next to the end of the plane makes it... worse. During the inflight three days before, a colleague had suggested that he preferred the rear seats.
“Hapa katikati si poa,” he had started, as we cruised at 35k feet on the 154-seater Boeing 737-800. The vitals were indicating 10668m altitude, 811km per hour speed, 11km per hour headwind and an outside temperature of -44 degrees Centigrade. The machine also indicated a ‘ground’ speed of 805kph. Why would you need ground speed 10k up there in the air? This trip took us just 1hr40min, having left JKIA at 1820 and reaching Bole at 2005.
Back to the discussion on comfortable sitting position, I wondered loudly, “I thought this is the best place, strategically between the vessels.”
I was referring to our almost mid-vessel position on the middle seats.
“From experience,” he continued, “The rear seats are the most comfortable.”
I now wished I was seated next to him so that I could pinch him hard, as the tossing-about began, 40 minutes into the return journey. The 300 did not display any stats to the runners – maybe it was cruising in 4 digits and the folks would not handle the facts. It was also gliding 10k feet above the path of the inbound bird three days ago. This machine was mean!
Chicken
I know chicken when I taste one, and what we took was not chicken. They labeled it as chicken, but this is the real world. If horse meat can be labeled beef and consumed as such, then the chicken was even smaller to deal with.
Advise to runners – it is possible to run at 10km up there, but it has its challenges, including extreme temperatures and food that pretends to be the real thing.
Experiences
However, there are experiences that the running track exposed me to over the three day event that I must hereby mention:
Taj – honey beer that is as orange of orange juice: that was a lie, there is no way honey beer can be that colour.
Tradition – went to this Abyssinia place and they exposed us to their tradition. This I agree was traditional music, though I shall take some time to differentiate this from Somali music. Their buffet however presented some familiar foods.
Left hand drive – I am already used to running on the left when here, so it takes the mind some getting used to, but it sinks in a few days (or never)
Amharic – let me not even try. They told me they have over 300 letters? You write as you pronounce, but they just write symbols!
Raw meat
I sat and watched in awe, every mouthful painful on me that the one before, as two colleagues feasted on raw meat both sides of my seat, during a lunch break. On my right raw mince was served – red and spiced red. On my left raw meat cubes – read and spiced.
“Want to try some?,” asked Gebre, directing a pinch or mince in my direction.
“Mmmhhhaa, sweet,” he continued, as he shoved the same pinch into his mouth.
“You should try it. It makes you feel like a lion,” he finalized, fully enjoying himself.
I cringed, loosing my appetite for a moment. I did not have anything ordered, since I failed for the second occasion to fest on injera. I could not get used to the sourness of the tef pan cake. I had asked for rice, but this was not available. Ugali was definitely out of question. Chapo neither. Their alternative was ‘bread and spiced beef stew’. What a day!
It is this raw meat issue that made me not write this article.
Wanjawa, Wamkaya Barack – Nairobi, March 3, 2013
I was supposed to write this story two weeks ago, February 16 to be precise, but this did not happen. Read the original script to discover why this story was not written after all…
Writing this at 36k feet was not my idea of a blog story, but when you are stuck with 2hours of nothing, you are tempted to get busy.
When I set off with fellow runners from the accommodation quarters at the outskirts of Addis, we had that first delay when a colleague decided that there was ‘no hurry in Africa’ and kept the six of us waiting for her in the chartered van. That 20 minute delay passed unnoticed, or unvoiced, though you could see it on the faces that none was amused.
Waiting
We were kept waiting at the departure lounge for another hour – just waiting for the boarding time. When the clock hit 0955hrs, on this Saturday morning, the impatient runners could not take it anymore, so they went ahead and queued on the check-in counter within the formal invitation. Finally, with a queue already formed, the lady was forced to allow the people through, down from first floor to ground level, where a taxi way bus was waiting to move the bus load to the waiting plane. Yet another check-in and I was finally seated at the extreme rear of the 767-300ER, the 33rd row. I have never been this far, but two ‘bodyguardesses’ kept me tamed. This bird was full to capacity – 237 passengers in total.
The 1040hours departure did not happen, until fifteen minutes later. Ten minutes before departure, 16 overhead screens, 8 on either side of the aisle, each about 10inch size dropped from the overhead compartment. We were subjected to 10 minutes of safety demonstrations, which went a long way to unsettle us – but life continues.
Temperatures
Takeoffs have a way of unnerving the body, but seating next to the end of the plane makes it... worse. During the inflight three days before, a colleague had suggested that he preferred the rear seats.
“Hapa katikati si poa,” he had started, as we cruised at 35k feet on the 154-seater Boeing 737-800. The vitals were indicating 10668m altitude, 811km per hour speed, 11km per hour headwind and an outside temperature of -44 degrees Centigrade. The machine also indicated a ‘ground’ speed of 805kph. Why would you need ground speed 10k up there in the air? This trip took us just 1hr40min, having left JKIA at 1820 and reaching Bole at 2005.
Back to the discussion on comfortable sitting position, I wondered loudly, “I thought this is the best place, strategically between the vessels.”
I was referring to our almost mid-vessel position on the middle seats.
“From experience,” he continued, “The rear seats are the most comfortable.”
I now wished I was seated next to him so that I could pinch him hard, as the tossing-about began, 40 minutes into the return journey. The 300 did not display any stats to the runners – maybe it was cruising in 4 digits and the folks would not handle the facts. It was also gliding 10k feet above the path of the inbound bird three days ago. This machine was mean!
Chicken
I know chicken when I taste one, and what we took was not chicken. They labeled it as chicken, but this is the real world. If horse meat can be labeled beef and consumed as such, then the chicken was even smaller to deal with.
Advise to runners – it is possible to run at 10km up there, but it has its challenges, including extreme temperatures and food that pretends to be the real thing.
Experiences
However, there are experiences that the running track exposed me to over the three day event that I must hereby mention:
Taj – honey beer that is as orange of orange juice: that was a lie, there is no way honey beer can be that colour.
Tradition – went to this Abyssinia place and they exposed us to their tradition. This I agree was traditional music, though I shall take some time to differentiate this from Somali music. Their buffet however presented some familiar foods.
Left hand drive – I am already used to running on the left when here, so it takes the mind some getting used to, but it sinks in a few days (or never)
Amharic – let me not even try. They told me they have over 300 letters? You write as you pronounce, but they just write symbols!
Raw meat
I sat and watched in awe, every mouthful painful on me that the one before, as two colleagues feasted on raw meat both sides of my seat, during a lunch break. On my right raw mince was served – red and spiced red. On my left raw meat cubes – read and spiced.
“Want to try some?,” asked Gebre, directing a pinch or mince in my direction.
“Mmmhhhaa, sweet,” he continued, as he shoved the same pinch into his mouth.
“You should try it. It makes you feel like a lion,” he finalized, fully enjoying himself.
I cringed, loosing my appetite for a moment. I did not have anything ordered, since I failed for the second occasion to fest on injera. I could not get used to the sourness of the tef pan cake. I had asked for rice, but this was not available. Ugali was definitely out of question. Chapo neither. Their alternative was ‘bread and spiced beef stew’. What a day!
It is this raw meat issue that made me not write this article.
Wanjawa, Wamkaya Barack – Nairobi, March 3, 2013
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