Monday, October 30, 2006
10/29/2006 6:30:31 AM Good Morning Sanaa! Can you believe I made it? After all that’s transpired in the last day and a half (see below), I’m in my new country! Alhumdillilah! (Thanks be to Allah!). The travails I encountered along the way leave me smiling and laughing at as I experienced a roller coaster ride of ups and downs on this transcontinental trip. It all began with the usual pre-departure stress, leaving for a good 10-months can cause some anxiety. Anyways, it’s par for the course, I say, and began by deciding to pay $150 for an extra piece of luggage. After passing through an orange alert screening before gaining admittance to the “heavenly” gates, I decided to eat my last tacos de San Antonio for awhile since there would be no food on the 11:52am flight to Washington Dulles. At Las Palapas, I ordered 3: a chilaquiles, a chorizo con huevo and a bean and cheese. Mmm…delicious! Shortly after getting to my departure gate, they announced that the tires on our plane had landed with low pressure and been damaged. Unfortunately, San Antonio’s airport did not have the specific llantas on stock for replacement. So, they decided to fetch some (from St. Louis, of all places.) This would mean our flight would not be leaving until 3:30 or 4:00pm. This would foil my original itinerary which had me arriving at Dulles at 4 and then boarding another for Frankfurt at 5. Another passenger headed for Frankfurt told me that there was another that would leave Dulles at 9:30. Unfortunately, that flight would arrive in Germany at 11:45am, 15 minutes too late to catch the subsequent and final flight of my elongated travel schedule to Sanaa. As sometimes happens in life and travels, I had to come up with plan B. The agent said that he could reroute me to Chicago and then send me to London and then finally to Sanaa, arriving at 4:20am Sunday morning. Setting foot in the UK, albeit for a couple of hours, wasn’t bad for a plan B. I advised Georgetown about the situation and informed them of my new itinerary so people would know where I was at. The flight to Chicago was already being delayed a couple of hours due to bad visibility at O’Hare. Nonetheless, they wanted us to be aboard at 2pm and be ready for takeoff. Finally at 3:45pm we took off. I arrived in Chi-town with a couple of hours to spare before I headed to Heathrow. I grabbed a Cheezeborger at the world famous Billy Goat restaurant. Cheezeborger Cheezeborger was made famous by Aykroyd and Belushi on Saturday Night Live back in the 70s. Then I found a t.v. to see some of the World Series action. Met a guy who claimed to have won a black face Rolex from Michael Jordan on a bet they made on the 18th hole. Aboard the plane, sitting next to me was a nice Pakistani lady, returning to Islamabad. And so we jumped the puddle. I had been told by the San Antonio agent that I should claim my luggage in London, but when I went to the carousel, my bags weren’t there. Another airline agent, said that if they were ticketed for Sanaa, then they go automatically. She was from Bahia, Brazil and was kind enough to give me some indications about where to leave my luggage and how to get to London from the airport. The tube is nice. I think the trains or at least the space seems kind of small, though all of the seats are lined along the walls and have armrests. It’s pretty clean and the riders are from all over the world. I heard Japanese, French, and Russian within 15 minutes. Took awhile to get to Piccadilly Circus, but it was worth it. Kind of like Times Square and the Champs-Elysees, there was plenty to look at- stately architecture, double-decker buses, theatres, sculpture art, those quintessential red telephone booths, and of course people people people. Took some shots and then found a pub. Grabbed a pint of John Courage and while mentioning that I was from Texas to the bartender, a young lady with bright red dyed hair said she was from Texas too! Turns out Jessica was from San Antonio and was spending a couple of months in Paris, England and Ireland with others from the Alamo City. I joined them and we marveled at the serendipity of running into fellow San Antonians so far away. I took it as a good omen signifying that no matter where I wind up I will be among neighbors. We wished each other well and then I continued my walking tour. During my brief 2 hours there, I found Londoners to be quite polite and felt comfortable there. Hmm, would be nice to return with more time. I got back to Heathrow, picked up my carry-on (guitar) and laptop backpack. At the check-in I looked at those in line at Yemenia Airways. They were my first glimpse of the Yemeni people. Some wore traditional dress and most spoke Arabic. There was a also a family that spoke Arabic and mixed it with French too. I learned they were from the country with the wonderful name of Djibouti. Djibouti is but a short boat ride from Aden and I hope to visit for a long weekend and pratiquer le francais a l’africain, bien sur! \ At the counter, the airline agent said that the ticket had not been reissued correctly because it said it was only good on the airline I flew on from Chicago to London. Ergo, he needed approval from the Yemenia representative who 30 minutes to departure time was on the plane itself and could not be reached by phone. I would have to wait and see if they would honor my rerouted ticket. Frustration sank in and I thought, all my previous time and effort at getting there was for not, I will have to spend the night here and still arrive a day late, missing some of the orientation that had been planned by the host institutions. With 15 minutes to go, lady luck smiled upon me. Another agent had finally spoken with the Yemenia rep and I was approved to board the plane! Then I had to deal with the security measures of Heathrow Airport. I was to be limited to one carry-on item and nothing else and It had to be of certain dimensions. Yes, certain dimensions that neither my guitar nor laptop backpack would meet. I asked for a plastic bag and stuffed the laptop, a printer, some software CDs and some wires in there. That was to be my carry-on. I sat on the plane next to a nice lady from Britain that works for CARE International. Her work, she said, has taken her to many off-the-beaten-path places, but Yemen, she discovered on her first visit, retained a magical otherworldly allure. She spoke admiringly of the ancient architecture built in and amidst mountains that resembled certain majestic panoramas from the Lord of the Rings movies. After hours of trying to sleep, we finally made our descent into Sanaa International Airport and I caught my first glimpses of Yemen. I could see orange fluorescent street lights from afar and then the plane landed. We walked down stairs and onto the tarmac and the night was crisp clear and cool. I could see mountains in the distance, and some tall trees near the airport. We boarded a bus which took us to the arrivals room to go through customs. I thought I’d forgotten my cell phone, so I asked an official to go and see if it was still in my seat. After awhile, he returned, but had not found anything. There was 2 people still going through customs and I would be the last. I approached the luggage carousel and it reminded me of Nouakchott, with porters and workers scurrying around to help the passengers for Yemenia flight 938 from Heathrow. I was the last and spotted my guitar right away. Unfortunately, that was all I found. I looked up and down and all around, but alas nothing. So I was down to a guitar, my laptop and a printer. I guess those were the more important things I had brought. Too tired to truly be angered, I was more excited about just being there. Since accepting the invitation from Georgetown University, I have read much about this place and here I at last I had made it. Tired, without much of my luggage, but alive and kicking. Upon exiting, I said to myself “Home sweet home for the next 10 months” and smiled as I took in the morning sky with a mosque's silhouette in concert with a comforting prayer call. Immediately, I asked a guard if I could capture this Kodak moment on my digicam. He said it was fine, but the other guard, who I inadvertently captured on the images, was not in agreement. He politely commanded me to “Delete!” I did, and then retook this shot minus him. To get a taxi I would need cash, local currency. I changed a $100 USD for $19,300 YR. YR= Yemeni Rial. Most of the bills were the big, bright green and beautiful 1000 YR denomination. The 15-20 minute ride showed empty streets at 5:35am. I took in the scene which resembled some parts of Nouackchott. Finally checked into my hotel, the fancy Taj Sheba and crashed for awhile. The saga of flying there from San Antonio had proved to be quite grueling and I still don’t have my luggage. At least some time to rest. Alhumdillilah.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Que horas son mi corazon?
I still recall the first time I heard about Yemen from John Brogan, one of my Peace Corps trainers in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania (RIM). After working as a Peace Corps volunteer in the RIM, John went to work in Yemen and after that returned to the RIM to train our group in late 2000. Fluent in Arabic, Brogan had seen many moons in these two lands and mentioned that he saw interesting parallels between some of the rural areas of Yemen and those of the RIM. During my time in Mauritania, I do recall actually meeting a Yemeni man in Nouadhibou. As is the norm there, he asked me where I was from and I told him and then he mentioned to me that he was from Yemen. He also made it a point to show me his jambiya or dagger. I learned that Yemeni men carry daggers like this as part of their traditional dress.
Now it is 2006, and I sit in Ruta Maya Cafe in downtown San Antonio, listening to Jarabe de Palo's bluesy romantic ballad "La Flaca", while I intermittently sip a "Romantika" tea. On Friday I will embark on a journey to Yemen. After 20 hours on various planes and more hours waiting at various airports en route, I am due to arrive in Sanaa late Saturday night. So this is it. After reading books and travelogues on my home for the next 10 months and talking with several people who have lived there, I'm thrilled, to say the least.
Since receiving an invitation to work there, I have met with several people who know Yemen and read various books, blogs about that country. Yemen comes highly recommended as the "undiscovered pearl" of the Arabian peninsula. And I do love oysters!
I still recall the first time I heard about Yemen from John Brogan, one of my Peace Corps trainers in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania (RIM). After working as a Peace Corps volunteer in the RIM, John went to work in Yemen and after that returned to the RIM to train our group in late 2000. Fluent in Arabic, Brogan had seen many moons in these two lands and mentioned that he saw interesting parallels between some of the rural areas of Yemen and those of the RIM. During my time in Mauritania, I do recall actually meeting a Yemeni man in Nouadhibou. As is the norm there, he asked me where I was from and I told him and then he mentioned to me that he was from Yemen. He also made it a point to show me his jambiya or dagger. I learned that Yemeni men carry daggers like this as part of their traditional dress.
Now it is 2006, and I sit in Ruta Maya Cafe in downtown San Antonio, listening to Jarabe de Palo's bluesy romantic ballad "La Flaca", while I intermittently sip a "Romantika" tea. On Friday I will embark on a journey to Yemen. After 20 hours on various planes and more hours waiting at various airports en route, I am due to arrive in Sanaa late Saturday night. So this is it. After reading books and travelogues on my home for the next 10 months and talking with several people who have lived there, I'm thrilled, to say the least.
Since receiving an invitation to work there, I have met with several people who know Yemen and read various books, blogs about that country. Yemen comes highly recommended as the "undiscovered pearl" of the Arabian peninsula. And I do love oysters!
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