Late Night Lay-Over

Passing time waiting to depart.

Zanzibar, Tanzania

May 27, 2025

After a long flight, a late hour.

The day started early. We woke before dawn, and made our way to Charles De Gaulle. We left Paris a few hours later, by an aerial route Da Gama would’ve envied.

The flight was terrific. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy Air France. Years ago I worked for Delta Air Lines, where I helped develop pricing, revenue management, and financial settlement for the new SkyTeam Alliance.

I was one of Delta’s primary liaisons to Air France, whose headquarters were my office about a week each month. Their equipment was my occasional aircraft when I crossed the ocean.

The service wasn’t that different from Delta, which is better than any other U.S. airline. And it certainly isn’t the caliber of Singapore, Emirates, or Qatar.

But their smiling stewardi instinctively offered wine, Champagne, or Cognac each time they sashayed up the aisle.

They almost insisted on it, and seemed offended when anyone refused. On long flights, those details (and especially that one) make all the difference.

“Black Coast”

We have a short stint on this small island… to allow Zanzibar-bound passengers to deplane, the crew to change, and ground personnel to pretend to “clean” the cabin.

In the Indian Ocean only 15 miles from the mainland, we’re surrounded by shallow sandbars, pristine beaches, and crystal clear turquoise seas.

Along the shore, baobab trees resembling upright belemnites intermingle with stone ruins of houses, minarets, and wells… remnants of ancient ports into with Arab traders steered their dhows.

Tourism has increased twenty-fold the last four decades, and the place seems worth a visit. But, exhausted and confined in the middle of the night, we’ll have to accept other people’s word for whatever attractions we’re forced to miss.

We’re on an archipelago comprising three larger islands and several small ones. The biggest is officially known as Unguja. It’s more commonly (at least by non-natives) referred to as Zanzibar, from Arabic and Persian roots denoting the “black coast”.

At this hour, that could describe the darkness. But it probably referred to the native inhabitants, whose ancestors have been here for 20,000 years.

Into the Night

It feels like it took us that long for us to arrive, tho’ we hope to leave within the hour. About half the passengers from Paris already did, which may provide room to stretch-out on our next leg.

Outside, the tropical air is thick and sultry. As local passengers begin to board, a gentle rain soaks the tarmac as condensation and darkness obscure our view.

In the cabin things are easier to see. The flight is filled mostly with Europeans and North Americans, including a family beside me from Tennessee. A dash of Indians and Arabs spices this hop to the interior of Africa.

The first Europeans came with Da Gama five centuries ago. With the changing tides of shifting empires, colonization and safari kept bringing them back.

The Bantu arrived a thousand years before Da Gama dropped anchor. A succession of Persians, Greeks, and Romans made stops. Proximity and trade allowed Arabs and Indians to sink deeper roots.

Few were here as briefly as the travelers who’ve remained on this plane. Having topped the fuel, collected new passengers, and replaced our crew, the engines are on and the gate is receding.

The lights dim as we reach the runway and pick up speed. When we leave the ground, low clouds envelop the plane. What little illumination the island emits is a faint blur, like distant streetlights in a thick fog.

Within minutes, all is dark. Thru slight turbulence, the wheels retract, our eyelids drop, and we ascend again into the African night.

JD