After far too many late night hours spent scaling Amazon and Google Shopping, I finally made the purchase. Holding my new Chacos Fantasia sandals in my hands, I was the real deal. Proudly showing off my new kicks to my family, I was met with my sister busting out Kanye West's "Jesus Walks" rap. Okay, these sandals are probably not even allowed on the Cute Shoes spectrum, especially in comparison to the five inch heels I've been subjecting my poor feet to for the past nine months at work. But my spirit was unshakable. I'm a Chaco owner, ready to rough it even in the name of poor fashion.
Let me back up a little. For this moment of victory was minute in comparison to the havoc that was my last month in America.
I've heard this happens before huge trips, and boy oh boy did it happen to us. All of a sudden, Katy and I were leaving in just one month. I still had ALL of my gear to buy, student loans to sort out, a room to sublet, car to sell, 90% of all belongings to sell or donate, and I was still working two jobs. Commence sheer panic.
Yes, the purchase of my shoes which will be carrying me daily for the next year or so was monumental. Besides that quick instant, the whole month can easily be described as frantic last minute everything. Buying, packing, selling, all with five new things added to their lists daily. My to-do list was sure to murder me.
Here's a quick summary of the final few days in America:
-Katy and I both getting sick due to the stress, lack of sleep and exercise, and poor dieting (Yeah, yeah...we asked for it)
-Hardly any sleep for weeks followed by no sleep at all the night before
-Finally selling my car less than 24 hours before leaving the country
-Our amazing friends stopping by while we pretend to know how to pack, delivering cards filled with such kind, loving words, and hugs full of love, fear, and pride
-Cutting katy's hair 20 minutes before walking out the door for the airport
-Somehow, surely by a miracle (and plenty of anxiety attacks, no sleep, and fits of tears), completely checking off my infinite to-do list
By 7:10 AM, we were on our way to the airport and our new lives.
My dad even came to the airport to see me off. With our relationship still on the mend, I was moved to tears at this gesture. It's always a boost of security to have a parent there to bid your final farewell before taking off to somewhere scarily unknown.
After posing for a few final pictures with our friends and my dad, we were faced with our first travel challenge. While trying to check in, we were told told we need more documentation to get through customs. We had to have something printed out that demonstrated "onward travel", and our response that we were just THAT crazy and only had one-way tickets purchased brought fear and confusion to the attendant's eyes. Her compassion wasn't spared as she sorted out any possibly option I could think up, and printed out some emails I had as hopefully substantial proof (We ended up not needing them, as Ugandan customs was just barely more than a passing glance).
I really don't know why, but I didn't have to fight back any tears during my last two days in America and even while saying my goodbyes at the airport. I figured the drastic lack of sleep would undoubtedly contribute to uncontrollable floods, but apparently it left me numb to emotion instead. Perhaps this was my instinctual reaction to the fully-encompassing fear I was trying to ignore. This numbness is still lessening.
Onto the plane rides. Allllll 30 hours of them. Our first leg was from Seattle to JFK. This was uneventful, as we both were only capable of sleeping. Upon reaching JFK, it got a little more exciting. The metro that was supposed to take us to our next terminal broke down, leaving us scampering around outside, trying to find the bus that was supposedly our ticket to the faraway terminal. An older Eastern European man was in the same nervous boat, and we all kept an eye out for each other as we riddled our way through broken-English directions. I always love the camaraderie that arises when strangers are placed in similar situations of distress. Silver linings are welcome sources of comfort amidst unrest.
Finally through another ticket line and another security check, our spirits were at a high as we fantasized about our last American meal: Burgers. We knew airport food is always insanely priced, but we were prepared to splurge in the name of greasy goodness. Then we learned our only options were pre-made deli sandwiches or Turkish fast food. I was semi okay giving into the Turkish grub since I'm a die-hard fan of Doner kebaps. But alas! Sold out. Come. On. Now. With our crappy sandwiches, we waited for our delayed flight.
JFK to Istanbul:
Within minutes of take-off, the flight attendants served us Turkish Delights on toothpicks, which tasted like stale gummies covered in powdered sugar. But, they were free! These weak treats were forgiven when we were served gourmet meals of chicken and hummus, salad, a choice of salmon and veggies or pasta, and apple cobbler for dessert. Whyy did we waste that money on cheap sandwiches! Free drinks had to be taken advantage of, but after Katy's one whiskey coke and my one Turkish white wine, we were too flushed and giggly to brave a second round. The combination of altitude, lack of sleep, and delirium that had consumed us the past few days led to extreme lightweightedness. And an obsessive awe over the turkish man's "out of control" beard across the aisle. Leaving America officially, I realized we were exiting from one of the main points of entry of immigrants into America, hoping for epic life change, and traveling to the "motherland", where all this humankind started, and where I am hoping for MY epic life change. I reveled in this reversal. Despite all of the realizations and re-energizing from the food and bouts of sleep, I still felt numb to the weight of this endeavor finally, actually playing out. My new life, completely of my choosing, and able to exist nearly anywhere I want, has begun. As long as I end up earning income at some point to continue student loan payments, the rest is completely and vastly open. The exhilaration brought forth as I imagine all the paths my life can take is contrasted by the anxiety over not seeing my loved ones for a long while, the dangers that inevitably coincide with the life paths I yearn for, and ultimately all of the unknowns. Life is but a pendulum, and it is time I learn to let go of full control.
Istanbul to Entebbe:
The plane's late arrival at JFK meant a late arrival in Istanbul. We're talking landing ten minutes before our next flight begins boarding, and we still have to take a shuttle from the plane to the terminal, pass through security for the seemingly hundredth time, and then most likely sprint to our hopefully close gate. Flashbacks of running through the monstrous Amsterdam airport on my Europe trip, making it to the gate just as the doors were closing, haunted me as I tried to resist plowing over every slow sauntering adult or old man taking five years to remove his belt before setting off another alarm through security. We got to the gate less than 15 minutes after boarding began, just to find that preparation for boarding hadn't even begun. At least we got a nice little workout in. As well as receiving lesson one on "Africa Time". Realizing we left the house to begin this never-ending trek over 24 hours ago, it's safe to say that we were borderline dreading yet another 7+ hour flight. But Katy and I received what surely was the Universe throwing us a bone. Empty seats. Our group of about 18 seats played musical chairs to excited giggles as we rejoiced at the ability to all sit with our families and friends, AND have room to spread out and lay down. Once more, we passed out in feeble attempts to gain any essence of sanity through a few more quick but deep naps. This route took us straight over Egypt, which means ancient Mesopotamia. The nerd in me bounced and pointed as I excitedly recounted random facts learned in 6th grade humanities class to Katy. I know I was pretty high up, but I felt so close to such a fascinating piece of human history. Our flight stopped in Kigale, Rwanda, where we remained on the plane for about 30 minutes as maybe five people joined us. One last time, take-off. I'm finally maintaining relatively normal blood pressure during these apprehensive events. Looks like five times in -seemingly- one day is the rote repetition I needed.
We landed in Entebbe, Uganda, around 3:00 in the morning. Which was 5:00 PM back home. The substantial upside for completely throwing off our sleep schedules the past week is that we were going to adjust to this new time zone easier than a fish takes to water. Me, being the over-thinker not wanting to ever ruffle any feathers (especially the feathers of authoritative figures), recited all the appropriate lines to say to the customs officer to hopefully keep any flags from being raised for any reason, and then quickly changed into a long skirt to comply with the country's recently instated laws about women's dresscode. Almost immediately, we saw women breaking this dresscode left and right. Well, at least these skirts are breezy against the humid heat.
Paul, the Backpackers driver, picked us up. His quiet, sweet voice and gentlemanly demeanor was a welcome omen to the kindness of the people here. Even in the pitch black darkness of night, I wasn't apprehensive of our decision to head to the Backpackers instead of waiting for the safety of sunrise.
We got into the dormitory and as quietly as possibly threw our huge packs in the weakly bug-netted beds, our packs taking up majority of the sleeping space. We both spent most of the night laying there unable to sleep against everything our bodies pleaded us. Probably because we were finally in AFRICA.
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