Last Updated on July 31, 2018 by PowersToTravel
I surfed the web looking for special travel locations for Christmas vacation. I was originally reading up on Egypt, however the political climate was not favorable. In the original search for Egypt I had landed on travel agency sites for Africa, and naturally there were also safaris offered. My “Attention-Deficit Web Surfing Disorder”, as we refer to it, found me wandering around Zimbabwe and Victoria Falls, South Africa and Krueger Park, Kenya and the Great Migration. My mind strayed to thoughts of my grandmother.
My grandmother Hedy was a very important person in my life. And oddly enough, I have always felt this strange link between my grandmother, Tanganyika, recovery and my birth. She had lost her husband not very long before my parents were married, and had worked to rebuild her life. When I was just a twinkling in my parents’ eyes, she had decided to take a long tour: to Scotland to see my grandfather’s cousins, to Sweden to her mother’s birthplace. She wandered across Europe, through Italy and finally ended up in Tanganyika, Africa, where her favorite nephew, Chuck, had just moved to be a math teacher with his new wife, Janet.
Janet later told us, “Hedy just announced she was visiting, while en route. I asked Chuck, ‘How long?’ and he answered, ‘I don’t know.’”
Hedy spent several months with her nephew, Chuck, and our life later became full of her stories of safari and the pictures and carved wood objects she had brought home from Africa. Happily ensconced there as helpmate to the newly pregnant school-teacher’s wife, my grandmother got the news: a grand-daughter had been born! That was me, of course!
She packed up her bags and rushed home to New Jersey, not to return to Tanganyika.
I browsed among the African safari trips, imagining my grandmother in Chuck’s jeep as they toured the Serengeti. I could see the large tree branch initially getting stuck and then firmly wedged at the wheels. I could see Chuck descending from the vehicle, in plain sight of a lion which watched Chuck struggle to release the vehicle. My grandmother and Janet, focusing on the lion, cried, “Oh no! The lion’s getting up!” With a last lurch he pried the wood free, and leapt into the vehicle.
Tanzania – Lion – mine not Hedy’s!
The vision of hairy insects receded, and began to be replaced by hippopotamus, rhinoceros, lions and gazelles. The safety of Land Rovers and Jeeps replaced the gorillas; the bottled water and insect screening on the tents replaced the germs.
I browsed on.
Originally I had focused on Kenya, as that country seemed to be the historical home to Safari. After all, the country of Tanganyika no longer exists. I perused group trips, and saw eight people with their heads poking out of the roof, like colonies of ground hogs. I read about safari lodges whose parking lots remind one of Walmarts. We were considering a trip over Christmas, so I could only guess that we would be going at the worst possible time, as far as visitor density is concerned. I read that the parks are geographically dispersed, and that a good deal of time is spent getting from one to the next, unless one pays for bush flights.
My interest waned slightly. A lot of money was involved. I continued to wander around. The country of Tanzania appeared, as home to much of the Serengeti. I learned that Tanzania is the union of the former Tanganyika and Zanzibar, and the home to Mount Kilamanjaro. I suddenly realized that this was the home of my grandmother’s safari. I couldn’t imagine going on safari without traveling in her footsteps, and without seeing the Snows on Mount Kilamanjaro.
I also found that a somewhat different philosophy of safari prevailed in Tanzania. While group tours do exist, they are more frequently replaced by a dedicated personal safari vehicle and driver who escort the family from park to park, acting as both driver, and guide. Obviously this is more cost effective for a family than for a couple, but I became hooked.
One books safaris through travel agencies – some local and some world-wide. I tend to give first preference to the agency which provides me with the most information on the web, whose reviews are also positive. Many sites offered tid-bits, in order to entice you to contact them. But because I really didn’t know what I wanted and if the trip was actually practical or affordable, I hesitated to call. Africa Travel Resources provided me with detailed pictures and accounts of every safari camp and lodge available. Route maps and sample itineraries were provided, along with sample costs and even availability. Park information regarding seasons and animals were included. I was able to surf and dream to my heart’s content, as the snow fell in New England.
Finally I contacted Africa Travel Resources and soon had many seasonally adjusted sample itineraries to consider.
My husband was amazed and thrilled. My initial fear of Africa had turned into a dream to be experienced. My parents wondered at our choice; they wondered if this strange man had intimidated me into traveling to a dangerous place. I knew better. I knew the route my mind had taken, the curves and concerns, and finally the realization that I once again wanted a trip of a lifetime.
Diabetic Travel Tips
Get your shots, of course. Don’t worry yourself by reading about all the nasty diseases in the world. The safari companies take good care of you. They offer European meals. There was always enough good food to eat, even for me, a very picky eater. Drink only bottled water.
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(I am not compensated in any way for my reference)
