Friday. An early morning finishing up things around the house. A house I will not see for nearly five weeks. A house that felt empty the last two nights. Even with friends over, J's absence make the house, our house, feel empty. A nice night Thursday, though. Such wonderful friends - phone calls, visits, text messages - seeing me off. An odd sensation that as I sit in a different time zone, as my daily activity in Seattle ceases to exist, so too must theirs. Frozen. But, alas, I am not the center of the universe - things happen, people live lives, all over the world although I am not there to see.
After an embarrassingly emotional goodbye to Else, a quick coffee with A, and last minute details in the office, I climbed into the back of a Yellow Cab and anxiously watched out the window, Rainier in all its glory, as I made my way south on I-5. Feeling sad. Wishing, not that I were staying home, but that J were in the seat next to me. But, as soon as I stepped out of the taxi, I went into what J calls my 'airport mode'. A lot of people, he included, do not care for airports. But something appeals to me. People going places. Coming home. Anticipation. Relief. I like the absoluteness of the airport. The defined order of events. Check in. Security. Gate. Board. And then, I even generally, like the flight. Forced Quiet Time. Little to do besides listen to music, read a book, watch a movie, sleep.
After a long check-in line, a call to J, and a final bathroom stop I was ready for quiet time. Knowing I was to arrive in Amsterdam early in the morning, I had intended to sleep. But, after only a brief nap post take-off, I was awake the entire flight. Four movies. The Other Boleyn Girl. The Devil Wears Prada. Horton Hears a Who. Fools Gold. And perhaps the best airplane read ever.
(Note to L: Such an excellent book. Thank you. In a similar style, one of my favorites, The History of Love. Read it. I have a copy, on the bookshelf in the living room. Stop by and pick it up. It is in the blue section. Yes, my books are organized by color.)
A three hour layover in the Amsterdam airport, which passed quite quickly surrounded by an interesting group of tourists. Lots of khaki. And a surprising number of young children. A bit of quality time with Power Point, working on my presentation for the workshop. For which I am horribly nervous. The thing about presentations, is that I love making the slides, but hate the talking. Next Tuesday afternoon will come with a big sigh of relief.
From Amsterdam, another long flight to the Kilimanjaro International Airport, where we dropped off nearly all of the passengers before continuing on to Dar es Salaam. We lost the middle-aged couples in safari vests. The family of seven, each with child with a PSP and an iPod in tow. The church youth group. The European couples on holiday. And the family from Puyallup. I again, slept very little but lacked concentration. Four movies begun, only one complete. Twenty-Seven Dresses. One game of Tetris. Level Eleven. Not bad. Anxious, I suppose. To land in a place I have never been. Where I do not speak the language. A cycle of the sun away from home. Where day is night and night is day.
Not much to show from the nearly twenty-four hours of travel. Save one terminal photo and one empty cabin photo. And droopy eyelids and a soar bottom. Neither did I find it necessary to photograph.
My arrival and exit from the airport in Dar es Salaam was swift. I moved quickly through the visa line and picked up my checked bag. I was met outside by a driver from the hotel. It has been a long time since I have been somewhere people drive on the left side of the street. I would imagine it is always a shock, but perhaps more so at night. When you do not actually see the cars, but only headlights blazing past you on the right. Against all instincts. And I had forgotten how mildly terrifying it is to travel by motor vehicle in a less developed country. Where red lights mean 'slow down a bit because someone else has a green light', rather than stop. I am looking forward to seeing a bit in the daylight today.
After receiving my room key, a brief IM chat with Dad, and a notice of a lack of 'Audio Capabilities' on my laptop, I repacked my bags and slept wonderfully under the mosquito nets.
Woke this morning, among gardens, to a quiet breakfast and some much needed coffee. Warmth and sunshine. Friendly Norwegians and chatty American historians. Often I wish I were more like J, in his ability to converse with nearly everyone.
I will head to the bus station later this afternoon, for a three hour ride to Morogoro. Until then, I suppose I will just relax and attempt to tell my body that sunlight means day time.