travellers' tips

Arriving in Luanda – Part 1, 2008

Just arrived Luanda. Hasn’t changed (yeah, well, see below, this was 2008, it's a bit different in 2010)– total chaos in the arrivals hall. If you can, dress as an American football player when arriving here – you might get less bruised. You’ll get the idea when you see the entrance – as small as a house door, so that’s the first scrummage – actually getting into the building (your shoulder pads might get in the way, but you’ll be thankful for them in a minute).

Inside, head for the crowd of people waving yellow bits of paper, put your head down, and push into it. There’s a guy in the middle, a health official, who seems completely oblivious to the noise and commotion around him or her, who stamps the arrival forms, and gives them out to the hands in front of him. He’s a saint, he’s being pushed from behind by half of China, more hands waving papers at him than he, or anyone else for that matter, could shake a stick at, and he just keeps on stamping those forms. We could all learn a lesson from him – if you could ever get near enough.

You see, here in Angola, that’s how they do it. You need a Yellow Fever Vaccination Certificate to enter the country. In South Africa, the immigration officer checks it alongside your passport. Here, they have a health official – ONE health official, for the entire arrivals hall, picture it, two or more long-haul flights arriving at the same time – show him your certificate (actually, anyone’s will do, see below), you get the arrivals form, which you then give to the immigration officer. Guess it creates employment.

But there’s only ONE of them – when you consider that half of China is entering Angola at the same time, pretty noisy and not that good at queuing, you’ll begin to realise that American football gear is not fancy dress, it’s practical gear. Surely there must be someone else in Angola who would like to try their hand at being a health official?

Tips for tackling this scrum? Use the elbows God gave you (NOW do you understand why they’re sharp?), put your head down, shove your certificate forward, and don’t give an inch. Watch out for the short people trying to get in below you.

You forgot your Yellow Fever certificate? 3 options:

• Go to the health authority office in the arrivals hall, and pay US$50 for a vaccination, after which you’ll get a certificate – a truly bad idea.
• Pass on the vaccination, pay US$50 and they’ll give you a certificate anyway – a much better idea, but you’re still US$50 down.
• Borrow someone else’s certificate, and wave that at the health official – he doesn’t look at them, I reckon any yellow piece of paper with writing would do – and you save yourself US$50.

Join the immigration queue and fill in the form whilst queuing – you’ve normally got plenty of time. It’s up to you whether you adopt the English or the African method of queuing. The queue on the right tends to move faster, but if you’re on the left, they might open the “Nationals only” lane to foreigners. However, watch out for half of China moving en-masse to that queue - they're surprisingly fast!

Arriving in Luanda – Part 2, 2009

I just came into Luanda again (did someone say "masochist"?) and the left hand lane went the fastest, as it was feeding into three desks.  yes, I know, it's a bit sad to get excited about things like this, but it keeps me going).

If you’re travelling with other people, elect the biggest one of you to get the arrivals forms, and the rest of you go and queue. Your large colleague can take all the vaccination certificates to wave one at a time, or just use one, result should be the same.

Fill in the form best you can – avoid filling in “masochism” as the reason for entry to Angola, just in case the immigration official knows the word, and has a sense of humour failure. The consequences don’t bear thinking about.

Baggage seems to arrive recently efficiently, but I can’t speak for experience. Me? Check in luggage? Don't be silly.

After customs, and before you leave the building, there’s a Unitel mobile phone shop on the right – they’ll stiff you on the price and on the exchange rate, but who cares, if like me your UK line (O2) doesn’t roam in Angola* (except in the far north, when you can often roam onto a DR Congo network!), then with a local SIM card you’re back in the wired world. There’s a bank there for buying local currency, too (although most places in town accept dollars). No particular hassle from touts and other ne’er-do-wells when you exit, but I have always been met, so no tips about taxis, sorry.

(BREAKING NEWS February 2009 - O2 now roams in Luanda, ).

Arriving in Luanda – Part 3, 2010

This is just not fair.  You hear me?  It’s not proper!

Travelers like me are proud of the hardships we endure, trekking around this continent, it’s what keeps us going, and we enjoy telling and retelling our “war stories”, of airports and hotels in dodgy places. 

And then this happens. 

They opened a new airport terminal in Luanda.  No more scrums, no more daft forms to fill in, polite immigration officials, passport scanners, stamp, stamp and whoosh – I was through in two shakes of a lamb’s tale.  Once again I had forgotten my vaccination certificate, and even then it took just 5 minutes and US$50 to get a new one (did I get an injection?  Of course not!), from a very smiley doctor, who agreed that the health official who had very officiously marched me in to him, with lots of finger wagging, was a bit loco. 

Extraordinary, in and through in less than 15 minutes.  Shocked!  Let’s just hope that there will be something to complain about at the new Luanda airport the Chinese are building at Viana (or not building, as the case may be – I hear the project is as good as abandoned).

But the Hotel Presidente still manages to triumph in the anti-customer care department, with the receptionist his usual unwelcoming, laid back self (he’ll check you in when HE feels like it, which is not necessarily the same thing as when YOU ask for it!), and the porter actually asking for a tip.  Not a single staff member ever smiles, the barman is rude, the internet doesn’t work, the laundry isn’t operating.  Just try to stay away from them, they might do the decent thing one day and go away.  On check-out, not a single word of apology for overcharging me on every single item on my bill.

Happily, there are some new hotels opening, at last.  The Hotel Talatona in Luanda Sul is really nice.  Pricey – US$600 for a single room (yes, that’s for one night!) – but the staff know how to smile, and everything appears to work!

Happy Travels- even in Angola!

Trevor

Hotel Presidente, Luanda

I’m staying at the Hotel Presidente, the old one at the north end of the Marginal. Great views of the bay (which is fast disappearing, as they sand-fill – catch it while you can). Apart from the strange shade of green paint that they have used (at some time in the past, a painter stood back, looked at his work, and said “My, that looks good”. What kind of sick person IS that?), the physical hotel isn’t too bad, old and tired, but aren’t we all? But my tip for staying here is to avoid contact with the staff AT ALL TIMES. OK, grin and bear it at check in, insist that your name IS what you wrote on the registration slip (twice) and what it says in your passport, regardless of what the receptionist wants your name to be, and you might get the room you reserved. After that, DON’T have anything to do with any of them – the objective of them all is to p*ss off the guests at every point of contact. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The internet service in the bar is good - just ask at the bar for the code, you don't ned to buy anything, and you don't have to be staying in the hotel either - but you may need to bluff that out - room numbers start on the 9th floor, 901 to 914, 1001 to 1014 - got that?

Happy Travels! Trevor.

Arriving in Malabo (where immigration gives you the finger)

I flew from Lagos to Malabo, the island capital of Equatorial Guinea, last week. There are two flights a week, AeroContractors via Libreville where, thankfully, you don’t have to get off the plane.

Malabo airport is a distinct improvement from the muddy concrete hut I remember from six years ago. All the same, it’s the first airport I have arrived at where the immigration officer gives you the finger. We’re off the plane, and I’m first in the queue for passport control. The guy at the desk waves a sheaf of blank arrival forms at me, and tells me to go and wait at the red line for someone to hand them out. May I have one of those?  No, go and wait. So I get the form, I fill it in, I go back to the desk, I hand him my passport, he fusses with it.

And then gives me the finger.

How jolly rude, I think. Que? (I say, in my best Spanish).  The finger again.  One what? I enquire politely, this time in English.  The finger for the third time, this time with a gesture to the little hole in the wall.  Aha, fingerprint time, both hands, and a photo.  Very wise, you never know what rascals are trying to get into your country these days. Five minutes later, he’s finished with me. I look pityingly at the queue behind me, and silently wish them a pleasant night queuing for the immigration man  to get through them all. Then there’s customs, or maybe security, who search you thoroughly (I long for the somewhat laxer methods applied in Lagos, where a languid moving of a shirt or two, whilst staring over your shoulder, seems to suffice).  Watch for the boy in the pink shirt who now latches on to you, asks if you have yellow fever (he means a vaccination certificate), which you then show to the two ladies guarding the exit door.  Malabo arrivals is a funnel system, so I am now at the narrowest part, at customs/medical check, at the exit door (a single door), with the other half of China (see arriving in Luanda for the whereabouts of the first half) trying to squeeze through, and several million Africans trying to get in.  Just push.

The next morning, I flew from Malabo to Bata, the country’s second city, located on the mainland.  And blow me, but what happens at the domestic arrivals in Bata?  The finger again, both of them, the photo, police searching my bag, very thoroughly, and customs too. Yes, customs, on a domestic flight.  That was a surprise, I tell you. I told the customs guy I had already been searched a couple of yards back (there was a screen in between, so I thought maybe he didn’t know, and I could save him a job?), but he says he’s customs, they were police. And then proceeds to search my bag with a spiteful, “I’ll get you” demeanour. Not for the first time, I wish I had kept my mouth shut, truly a passive indifference works much better.

Leaving Bata for Malabo wasn’t so bad, customs only searched the Chinese travellers, but fingers and photos? – I’m used to them now. Right hand, left hand, glasses off for the camera……Then they call you to board the bus for the aircraft, and outside the door they’re searching your bags again, doing the security scan with the wand. These guys are scared of something!

Travellers’ Tips – well, try to be first in line, unless you have hours to spare.  Keep your mouth shut unless absolutely necessary.  If asked, claim to be Welsh – a certain Mr Mann has given the English a bad name in this country (Google “Mann Equatorial Guinea” if you need to know more – but don’t print it and put it in your luggage). And just go with the flow, stay cool, even when they give you the finger.

In Malabo – the best hotel in town is the Sofitel, next to the Presidential Palace. I’ve not stayed there, but it looks nice.  The waterfront restaurant at the Hotel Bahia is pleasant, with English speaking waiters. In Bata – the Hotel Plaza is good enough, the Oriental Restaurant on the seafront has great Lebanese mezze, and there’s a great beachside restaurant outside of town, beyond the airport, run by a French lady. A lovely place for a lazy lunch.  I hear it is the place to go at weekends, with safe swimming, and there are a few chalets to stay in too.

Leaving Malabo – the finger again, of course.  Apart from that, nothing much to report – oh, except that you will need to show your Yellow Fever certificate again on the way out of the country. Don’t ask.  And don’t expect any duty free – I couldn’t see any! There’s a business lounge upstairs, no-one asked me whether I was in business class or not, so may be worth the chance, for a comfy chair. Except that I spent the whole time there worrying whether they would remember to call me for my flight. Maybe not worth THAT risk.

Happy Travels!  Trevor

 

Yenagoa, a Chinese Food-Free Zone.

 Should you ever find yourself in Yenagoa, the capital of Bayelsa State in Nigeria, I can recommend a Chinese restaurant there which is well worth not going to.  Should you have a craving for Chinese food (like I did), don’t go to the Sweet Tomatoes restaurant on Azikoro Road – go instead to a supermarket, buy a bottle of soy sauce, and take it to either the Creek Motel or the Mona Lisa Hotel, where you can enjoy the buffet.  Sprinkle the soy sauce on your food and hey presto!  It’s Chinese!

 The wonderfully-named Sweet Tomatoes used to be the Royal Chinese Restaurant, run by Chinese people, who have left, the name was changed, and everything went to pot.  We expected as much when, after taking our order, the guy gets on the phone and we hear “you’ve got to get back here, we’ve got customers”.

 Twice the staff confirmed that everything on the menu was available, but of course when I ordered the prawns, they had none.  So I ordered the fish, which looked suspiciously like shredded beef when it arrived.  The waiter was unable to confirm what it was, after all, he’s only the guy that carries the food from the counter to the table. 

 Did I tell you about the décor?  There wasn’t any, it was a black hole as far as ambience was concerned.

 The manager (no, sorry, that’s far too official-sounding, let’s call him…….oh, I don’t know, the guy that……well, the guy that didn’t know what was available, didn’t listen when we ordered, and didn’t offer any drinks….what’s the word?  Nope, it’s gone).  So, this guy in a green tee shirt told me I had ordered the shredded beef.  To a chorus of “no he didn’t” from my ever-supportive companions, I asked green-tee-shirt-man which bit of the order “stir-fried fish with ginger and spring onions” sounded like “shredded beef”.  Take this away, I commanded, and bring me what I ordered.  Green-tee-shirt-man gets on the phone, and then comes up with the startling news that they had no fish.

 When I asked for the bill he brought back the shredded beef, now stone cold.  Well “bill starts with a “B”, and beef starts with a “B”……

 The beer was warm, the glass was cracked, - oh, what’s the point?  Just don’t go there, OK?  And don’t forget my TTT (Trevor’s Travellers’ Tip) about the soy sauce.

 Happy Travels!  Trevor