Lollygagging Luggage

We wrapped up two days in Cape Town, South Africa (blog coming tomorrow!), and we are currently sailing to our second port. My mind is still trying to understand that it and the rest of my body are in Africa. I have lost track of the number of times Rob and I have looked at each other over the past week and said something along the lines of, “What the hell are we doing?!?” Yep, “South Africa” was not on either of our Marriage Bingo Cards 36 years ago.

The flight to Cape Town was LONG. We arrived at PDX on Friday at 3:00pm. We landed at Cape Town’s airport at about 10:45am on Sunday. In between were three flights and a 7.5-hour layover at London Heathrow.

You would think over 7 hours would have been enough time for all three of our bags to find our final aircraft. But nope. After nearly 2 days of travel, Rob and I were greeted in Cape Town with news that one of our suitcases was taking an extended holiday without us. It was lounging in London. The bag that had all of our toiletries and most of my deal-with-pain and go-to-sleep gear. Bugger!

Fresh off about 36 hours of travel

Although British Airways assured me the wayward suitcase would arrive on the same flight the next day, they had also assured me all three bags would make it the first time. So my confidence was low (based on other prior BA experience as well. Not my favorite airline but I’m a slave to frequent flyer mileage partners). It was a long night filled with not a lot of sleep and a lot of worst-case-scenario ruminating.

At about 3am, I mindlessly checked my AirTag tracker and was alarmed to see this.

According to Google Translate,
it was at the Visitor Center for 
a park in a small town

My suitcase was now frolicking in France?!? 

I spent a few panicked moments imagining my blue suitcase slowly rolling down a dark road in the Normandy countryside, doing its level best to reunite with me and its two matching buddies.

But then I realized that – much more likely – a fellow passenger had probably momentarily turned off their phone’s airplane mode, had Bluetooth on, and happened to be sitting above my suitcase’s location in the cargo hold. All just long enough for the tag to find itself some 35,000 feet above northwestern France. Deciding I liked Scenario B much better, I clung to the AirTag’s map as proof that my suitcase was indeed on the flight to Cape Town and would we be together in a matter of hours.

Later that morning, I was showered and dressed in record time. Amazing how much faster things go without moisturizers, hair gel, or make-up. Rob and I shared one travel toothbrush he had tucked away from British Airways’ amenity bag (it’s like they knew…), and one tiny bottle of wet, sticky roll-on deodorant procured from the hotel’s sundries shop for a mere 50 Rand (about $3.00). We had three scents to choose from. We both ended up smelling like a 23-year-old guy fresh out of the gym shower (aka AXE).

Shortly before 11:00am, my AirTag promised victory.

Afrikaans is a fun language to 
look at!

About 15 minutes later, I was overcome with emotion. SO grateful I wasn’t going to have to Uber to a Makro (my late-night research suggested it as the South African equivalent to Target), nor spend 30 days languishing in pain and sleep deprivation. I was also relieved I wasn’t going to learn how to use the “Lost luggage” feature of our travel insurance.

Yes, my back hurt doing this.
No, I didn't care.

And with that – all three suitcases, two backpacks, and my trusty lumbar pillow – Rob and I and our gear were ready to board our new home for the next month and enter Vacation Mode At Sea.

Yon is officially ON!

Fun wall of plants in our hotel's lobby
in Cape Town, South Africa