The Joys of International Travel

I've arrived safe and sound in Niamey, with a party of three to greet me at 3:30 in the morning this past Thursday. Let me tell you, it is a long trip around the world!

My Aunt and Uncle and their two children, as well as two more cousins came to the airport in Calgary to send me off. After saying a tearful goodbye to my family, I went through security and was informed that I was the randomly selected passenger to go through a more thorough screening. Joy. So while my family stood back and watched, I was patted down, had my waistband and my shoes checked and my purse--which was strategically jammed full of stuff--rummaged through and given back to me to figure out how to get it all back in the bag. Not an easy trick!

After buying a magazine and a chocolate bar (comfort food!), I got in line to board my flight to London and this sweet British woman in front of me in line began to chat with me, and as it turns out, we were seat mates. The lights of Calgary were beautiful as we winged our way over the city. After supper was had, I fell asleep, waking occasionally to rearrange my blanket. It was cold in the cabin.

Arriving a half an hour early in London, I said goodbye to my new found friend and followed the purple signs to catch the bus that would take me from Terminal Five to Terminal Two to catch my next plane. After going through security I found the check-in desk for those of us in transit, but no one was there. No problem, I had four hours before my next flight. So I called home, cleaned up in the bathroom and browsed through the shops, occasionally checking back at the transit desk.

At 4:15 a man finally appeared at the desk, and so I handed over my passport and waited for him to hand me my boarding passes. Instead, he asked me to step aside and wait. He checked in the other three passengers before explaining to me that I had to pay a cancellation fee before he could check me in for my flight. Not sure why I had to pay a cancellation fee, since the airline was the one who had canceled my original flight and my travel agent was supposed to have taken care of everything, all I knew was that I had to be on my flight which was leaving at 6:10. So this man told me I needed to go to the Air France ticket desk and pay my cancellation fee and then check-in for my flight. He led me to a door and said, "Just go straight and you'll get there," and then left me. Well straight was fine for a while, but then I had to choose left or right...I ended up at customs. By this point, I was in tears. But I felt I had to be in the right place because the man had said something about needing to "land" in order to go to the ticket desk.

So, I filled out a customs card as best I could but didn't have all the necessary information--like an address in Britain. I walked up to the customs official--a large, black, British man--and now I'm really crying and try, through my tears, to explain my situation, when he told me I was in the wrong place. However, I think my tears made him uncomfortable and he understood enough of my story, in between hiccups, that he stamped my passport and told me where to go to get to the Air France ticket desk. I think everyone who gave me directions that day expected that I knew Heathrow like the back of my hand, because all of their directions were extremely vague.

But eventually--after asking several more people for directions--I managed to find the correct desk. There was a lineup, so I took my place in line and my anxiety grew as the time ticked away and the line wasn't moving. I had less than an hour now. Even though I had travel insurance and had the document proving it, I didn't feel I had the time to see if that would help me. I figured I would pay now and figure out how to get reimbursed later. Swiping my credit card seemed like the fastest way to go and I didn't have time to spare. Once the man behind the counter handed me my receipt, I then headed for the check-in desk, looking for Monika, who the man at the transit desk said would be expecting me and was informed of my predicament. She wasn't.

Monika and two other women crowded around the computer and tried to figure out what was going on. I told them I had to catch my flight that was leaving at 6:10 and Monika kept looking at her watch. The look on her face didn't give me any hope that that was going to happen. Finally I am handed both the boarding pass for this flight and my connecting flight in Morocco and another lady explains to me, as though this is my first time traveling, which one to use first and to be sure not to lose the second one. Then they assured me that my gate was only a two minute walk away. All I had to do was go upstairs. I took the escalator. It turned out that security was a two minute walk away, my gate was a considerable distance away.

So I got in line for security for the second time in that airport, knowing I had less then fifteen minutes to get to my gate before it closed, if that. I don't wear a watch so I didn't know exactly, but I knew I needed to hustle. Again, the security line crept along and once I finally got through, they told me they'd have to do a double check on my liquids. Not bothering with my belt, and almost leaving my passport and boarding pass behind, I grabbed my stuff and booked it through the terminal towards my gate, thankful that at least things now looked familiar and I knew where I was going because I'd been able to scope out the land while I'd been waiting for the transit desk to open. I think I was the second last person to get on the plane, but I did get on the plane. Big sigh of relief!

Finding my seat, I sat down and overcome with relief and a let down from the stress, I started crying again, trying very hard to hold back the tears, since I'm sitting elbow to elbow between two strangers. The guy on my right put on headphones and I'm sure he tried to lean as far away from me as possible. The woman on my left just looked so sympathetically at me. Eventually, she and I started chatting. She, as well as a group of 15 people on the flight, were part of a tour group headed to Fez. They fed us and then I slept most of the way to Morocco.

As we were descending into Casablanca, the man in the row behind me began to hyperventilate, telling the person next to him how afraid he was of flying. Then, loudly, so everyone around could hear, this man began in an East Indian accent, "Our Father, who art in Heaven," as though his life depended on it.

Thankfully, Casablanca is a small airport and being in Africa, security was more of a jock than anything. I didn't have to take my computer out of its bag or take off my belt, and even when I set off the metal detector they waved me through anyway. There's only one terminal and every time I checked the board to see what gate my flight was departing from, the number had changed, but since it was a five minute walk from one end of the terminal to the other, I wasn't worried. I found a payphone to call home, but it didn't take credit cards and I didn't have any of the locla currency and no where was it posted what currency it did take. So, I walked to the convenience-type store and asked if they sold calling cards. They didn't. Then I noticed a post office box next to the phones and thought it would be fun to mail the postcard I bought for my little cousin in London, but when I went looking for stamps, no one sold these either. So instead, I found a seat, got out my book, and the chocolate I'd purchased in Calgary--I was ready for some extra endorphins by this point--and waited for my flight to be announced.

As the departure time drew near, my flight did appear above one of the gates, but no one was making any announcements about beginning to board, but a line was growing at the gate. Remembering that I was now in Africa, I figured I might as well join the line. As is often the case in Africa, the pushiest person goes first.

Since Niamey is hardly a tourist destination, the plane wasn't full and I got three seats all to myself--including three pillows and three blankets. After being served the exact same meal from my previous flight, I was able to take a good, solid nap and felt much better when they turned the cabin lights on and announced that we were beginning our descent. Looking out the window, I couldn't see any lights, but I could tell we were dropping altitude so we had to be getting near Niamey. It wasn't until we were solidly descending that I began to see city lights. Welcome to the middle of nowhere.

It was 29 degrees when I got off the plane at 3:30 in the morning. We all got into a steamy bus and were taken the to the airport, where I moved quickly and easily through customs and found the man that Dr. Ace Cheung had hired to help me with my baggage. My first piece was already circulating on the conveyor belt when we approached the baggage claim. The man asked me what my other piece looked like, and I began to describe and realized that part way through my description, I had switched to Spanish. He looked confused. My second piece of luggage didn't arrive, so the man led me to the office to report my missing luggage. We had to wait for the woman to arrive and as soon as she unlocked the office door, the man pushed me through to make sure that I beat the seven other people missing their luggage.

The woman asked me what my luggage looked like and several other questions, before asking me something that I didn't understand. I asked her to repeat her question. I still didn't understand. Then, in almost perfect English, she said to me, "Where did you come from?" Not sure why I didn't understand this question in French as it was pretty basic, and surprised that she hadn't switched to English sooner, it took me a moment to respond. I had to wait for my jaw to return to normal after having hit the floor. Giving me a piece of paper, she told me to return on Saturday to pick up my luggage.

Now, I could finally go through the last stages of security, and emerged out of the airport to find Dr. Ace, Lisa and Kristi waiting for me, all looking very perky for such an early hour. Driving across the city to Kristi's house where I am staying, there was no question as to where I was. I was definitely in Africa. I had made it.