Our first trip with Kenya Airways went well - a hungover Andrew, suffering the end of Big Brother celebrations was knocked out by wine and slept all the way. Suzie didn't do badly either, thanks to Nytol. There may have been in-flight entertainment but we were too unconscious to notice. Food was passable (and as stated, they had wine).

We had to change at Nairobi, and what a funny place that is. Very little information, very small for a capital city, and with a remarkably high proportion of aid workers among its clients. Everywhere you look, people have MSF, UN, etc branding on their shirts, bags, paperwork. We collapsed on chairs and slept some more (whether we liked it or not).

We met a pair of paramedics from Croydon who had been escorting a sick man home to Kenya. They regaled us with tales of Kenyan health service, shock in their faces as they spoke of lack of infection control (open-air operating theatres), and of their willingness to cut people's legs off where in the UK a simple procedure would have been undertaken ("he won't use them for ages so I cut them off"). We decided not to get sick on this trip. And if we did, each was briefed to keep an eye on the other's legs.

To find our connecting flight, we followed a hoard of people, hoping they were going the same way as us. They were. Good.

And, you know, people bad-mouth African airports for their inability to look after luggage but as we boarded the next flight (to Kilimanjaro Airport, with Precision Air, a part of Kenya Airways), we looked out on the tarmac and saw Suzie's bag, ready to be loaded. Sorted. At least we knew her bag would make it.

So imagine our surprise and disbelief when, at Kilimanjaro, the baggage conveyor went round and round and still Suzie's bag didn't arrive. We had a heated but friendly debate with a member of staff who insisted it was still in Nairobi - "It CAN'T be - we saw it going on the plane!" we protested, to no avail.

So Suzie joined a queue of many other bagless passengers (some of whom were intending to climb Kilimanjaro the next morning and for whom the need of their specialised bag was pretty great) and reported our loss. Andrew went and met our driver-guide for the safari, Godfrey, who was reassuring about the bag, saying it happens all the time. He then spoke to a member of staff who told him that "the pilot didn't want to take them" in Nairobi. Yup - he just decided. There was plenty of room on the plane - we could have had the bag on the seats in front of us! - but no, he couldn't be bothered getting a few more bags on.

Precision Air - doing precisely whatever they feel like. (More of this later...)

We drove for about an hour and had our first real sight of Tanzania (oh yeah - we saw Kilimanjaro from the plane - looked big). Very dry with sandstorms/twisters breaking at the side of the road, big horizons and happy people, waving and saying "Jambo!".

First accomodation - Moivaro Coffee Lodge. Where, we found, they don't serve coffee (at lunchtime at least - and at breakfast it's a tin of instant). They do, though, like feeding guests - we were offered a 3-course lunch and a 4-course dinner. It was pretty nice - a lovely setting with big, green gardens and private bungalow-type rooms. After lunch we sunbathed by the pool. Or in Andrew's case, just slept by the pool and then awoke to a beer delivery. Good wife. And good beer - Serengeti.

Without wanting to sound too cynical, we suspect the beers here *might* be aimed at tourists. Brands include Serengeti, Kilimanjaro and Safari.

After a hearty dinner (including our first great Tanzanian soup and pretty horrible 'Nile perch' which appeared to have cheese placed on top before being battered and deep fried), we set off for our room then... darkness.

Total, utter darkness. You couldn't see the hand in front of your face. We had brought a torch on holiday but it, of course, was in a bag in Nairobi. Happily, we were close enough to the bar for staff to come out and offer us a candle to walk home with. All very romantic.