The thing I've learned the most while writing and blogging is that if you don't keep it short and sweet, well, you won't have much of anyone interested in reading what you write. Once they know you are a "novelist" of sorts then they won't visit your blog again. Let it be known, "novelist" is just in my blood, but I plan to "cut against the grain" and keep it read able for all of you back home and abroad who want to follow me as I spend the next 3 months (or more) in Bamako, Mali.
I left on quite the excursion just last week via a red eye flight bound for New York City's John F. Kennedy airport. My family dropped me off at the airport, I said my goodbyes, popped a couple Vicodin, checked in, and caught some of the worst sleep ever on my flight. From the moment I landed it was "go go go". I grabbed my bags, took the subway to Manhattan where my aunt lives and we headed out for an adventurous day with tons of great food, sights, and sounds located throughout the lower east side of Manhattan. The next day I got to see my family from NYC who I hadn't seen in about 4 years. We had great food and lots of fun together just catching up. I loved seeing them and hope its not quite so long before I see them again. After they left I got some more sleep and spent the final days in New York trying to rest up for the next stage of my travels.
Tuesday night I got on another overnight flight but this time I was leaving the States bound for Casablanca, Morocco in the Northwestern corner of Africa. It was by far one of the smelliest flights I've ever been on and it was almost eight hours long. I got a grand total of two hours of sleep which would eventually carry me till the time I got to Bamako, Mali a whole day later.
We landed and were shuttled by bus to the terminal where I spent the next hour or so wandering around looking for something to do. Keep in mind I anticipated spending the next 15 and a half hours at the airport. I wanted to go into Casablanca and I finally allowed the spontaneous and adventurous side of me to take over and venture out into the city alone (despite not knowing Arabic or French). I headed over to the "Currency Change" desk and asked for Moroccan Dirhams in exchange for my US currency. As I was an American girl walked up and was waiting next to me to switch over her funds to. I asked her what she was doing and where she was going throughout the day and she said into Casablanca. We began to chat and discovered we both were just on the same flight and both were headed for West Africa (her to Cameroon). We walked in search of her friend from the the flight and eventually found her.
As we walk up to her we find her Father and family friend are with her and they want to meet us. After meeting us he proceeds to invite us to their home for tea and brunch. We gladly accepted and we headed for their van. As we are driving through the city he is telling us all about Morocco and begins offering to take us around the city and show us all the cool places to visit. We again accept and head up for some fantastic food. We eventually leave and head for the city by food where we tried out some of the local fruit before catching a bus for towards the Old Medina where the vendors in Casablanca are located. He shows us all around before leading us into the Medina,buying us a gift, and making sure we have our train tickets back to the airport. After about 6+ hours together he bids us farewell along with his daughter and I'm left to explore the Medina and Casablanca with my new friend Arley who I'd met at the change station. After about 4 more hours of adventures that take us to the Habbous, the world's second largest Mosque, and into a taxi cab that ripped us off about $14 we headed back to the airport via train.
I spent the next 3 hours waiting for my flight lonely as could be. It's quite lonely when no one speaks your language and you're the weird looking foreigner whose taller than everyone, got culturally odd hair, and no language skills for the region. Eventually right before my flight was suppose to board a kid my age from Guinea started talking to me in English randomly. We talked for about 30 minutes before we lined up for the flight. At this point the flight was 30 minutes late. When I got into the line he asked me if I was sure that this was my flight because its typically a regional transfer flight to other west african countries. So we go check the board and my flight to Bamako at a different airport had been moved 10 gates down at the other end of the terminal and had been on time. At the moment we realized I was on the wrong flight I hear in Frenchy Arabicy English..."THIS IS A LAST CALL FOR A MR. NATHANIEL JAMES GARCIA, MR. GARCIA FROM JFK IN NEW YORK MR. NATHANIEL JAMES...THIS IS LAST CALL FOR FLIGHT AT523 TO BAMAKO, MALI." I say the quickest of goodbyes and I'm SPRINTING like lighting for the gate. I make and say I'm here I'm Garcia. And 4 guards at the gate start talking to me in French and I say, "No, No...I don't speak french." Everyone laughs but me and they say Welcome and Bon Voyage. I jump down the gate starts to the tarmac and jump in the bus with a French guy whose also running late. We barely make it and its off to Mali...
MORE TO COME...
