International to Domestic - The Orient

Arriving in the Orient, there was a feeling of hope that our journey was ALMOST over.  We only had one more flight, and after the previous three...that was very, very good news.  Smaller countries have smaller international hubs.  Walking down the concourse, from our gate from Europe, we looked for the bank of monitors.  Though tired, my engineer and I both felt a surge of adrenaline that comes from knowing that a long journey was coming to an end.

I remember standing in front of the bank of four monitors.  It was a huge change from the confusing collage of 10 to 12 that we had to find our way through at previous airports.  Thinking that we understood what they were telling us, loaded down with our carry ons, we set forth.  Turning a corner, we were faced with the customs check point.  Orders in hand, we waited in line...for a very long time.

Ahead of us, there were people from various countries talking, arguing, and pleading with the men behind the protective glass.  I had packed $50 cash, just in case we had to "buy" a visa to just get through without undue harassment.  By the time we got to the window, I had a feeling I had made a very smart decision indeed.  Approaching the window, with our Military Passports and my engineer's orders, the little man critically looked at our papers.  He excused himself with our documents and disappeared for some time.  Upon return, he informed us that my engineer's orders weren't good enough to get into the country...we had to pay him $25 each...  Politely asking to speak to his supervisor, he dismissed us with a curt, "I can keep you standing here as long as I feel like it."

Knowing that our connection didn't allow for much of a delay....and being sick and tired of being on the move...we contributed to the bribe network by handing over $50 cash to just get past his desk.  With that stupid visa stamp on our passports, we hurried through to our check in.  Climbing a tall flight of stairs (cat, bags, kid, stroller, carseat...), we arrived at the check in...only to discover that our bags weren't checked through!  They were standing, unclaimed on the international baggage claim area on the lower level.

Almost close to tears, I must have looked like I was completely defeated.  Looking around, with everything piled around me, I felt completely vulnerable.  My engineer, a note of panic in his voice as we both looked at the check in time for our next flight, asked for directions for the claims area and rushed to bring it back in time to check in.  Standing there, with my daughter in her stroller (and everything else), I set off to find a chair close by.

Taking a very deep breath, I was about to start hauling everything when there was a tap on my  shoulder.  Turning around, I came face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.  In broken English, she told me her son would take everything wherever I needed it to go.  Giving her a deep nod of "Thanks," I pointed to a seat with a bit of emptiness next to it (the airport was PACKED).  The young man graciously took everything and set it there for me, responding with a quiet nod when I told him "Thank you."  I have no idea how long I sat there with my Angel and waited...but I wasn't alone.

One after another, older women seemed to come out of the woodwork to coo over my Angel.  Having come from a culture that tends to maintain personal space rules, I had to cover my discomfort as these women came and touched, talked to, and pinned stuff to my daughter's clothes.  At about the point when my exhaustion was going to over rule my cultural tolerance, my engineer resurfaced from the underworld with all of our checked bags.  With relief, I joined him and prepared to finish our journey.  Bidding all the adoring women good bye with a smile and a nod, we checked in and prepared to go through the domestic security check......again.

Now, our Nutmeg had done a fantastic job so far.  Approaching the check point, the guards told us that her carrier had to go through the scanner.  Having sent all of our carry ons through first, followed by my Angel and I, my engineer took Nutmeg out of her carrier...all 12 pounds of her.  I will NEVER forget the looks on the guards faces as she, as if in slow motion, was removed from her carrier.  She is an armful for my engineer.  He asked one of the guards if he wanted to hold her after she went through the metal detector, or if my engineer was to walk through with her.  With a look of complete fright and shock, the poor man vigorously shook his head, stepping back with arms up in protest.  One of the guards leaned to me and asked if she was a smaller mountain lion.  Smiling, I told him she was just a very large cat...and that was it.  Shaking his head, he muttered, "looks like a lion cat to me."  Loading her back into her carrier (where she went with much relief), we went in search for our gate.

Looking at yet another bank of monitors, we went down another flight of stairs...to wait.  It was crowded and claustrophobic.  Too many bodies and too much stuff.  Looking around, it dawned on me that it looked like we were going to be on yet another hop flight.  Groaning inside, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what I had eaten last, fore I knew I would see it yet again in another form.  With a bit of distress, I realized that I had only one roll that day...not enough to calm a stomach.  It was about the time my mind wrapped around this that the boarding call for our flight rang out....up stairs!!!

As we were gathering everything up, a burly man stepped forward to help my engineer take everything up stairs.  When I reached over to take something, with my daughter on my hip, he said, "No No!! Just Baby!"  Wrapping my arms around my Angel, I took her up the stairs.  Turning around, I watched as the man pointed to the monitors and said, "LIES!!!  ALL LIES!!!"   and continued to help lug all of our stuff up from downstairs.  When my engineer tried to say  "thank you," he was dismissed with a wave of the arms that said, "why are you surprised??  That is what we do!!"  Settling things in at the chairs in the correct waiting area, I ran off to find a restroom...it had been a very long time.

Hand sanitizer in hand, I entered the ladies room.  What I found made me smile...and smile BIG!!  I had a choice!  An honest to God choice, right there in front of me!  I could use a standard western toilet....or I could use a pit toilet.  Having seen a very chic woman walk out of the pit toilet, I decided that was my pick as well!  You see, you don't touch ANYTHING when you use a pit toilet.  No worries about something nasty on the seat...and you hit the flusher with your foot!  Immediately, I decided that pit toilets were the way I was going to roll if I could find them.  First day in country, and I was adapting like a charm!

Proud of myself, and walking a bit taller, I returned to find my Angel munching on something.  My engineer explained that he had found it at the food kiosk in the corner.  Feeling better, having wonderful experience in my new country, I sat down with my little family and waited for our seat numbers to be called...and it didn't take long!

For the last time, we loaded ourselves onto a plane.  This one, was indeed, a flying tin can.  Taking a deep breath, we loaded up.  This flight was definitely a local transporter flight.  Small in size and PACKED to the GILLS with people, it was going to prove to be an interesting flight.  While only just under 3 hours, it was the warmest, smelliest flight I had ever been on.  People had brought hot and cold food with them.  Pair that with a strong dislike for deodorant, body heat, and a bumpy ride, my stomach rebelled once again. After filling a couple bags, I closed my eyes, rested my forehead on the seat ahead of me, and prayed for it to end...and end soon.

When our plane touched down and coasted to a stop, I asked the flight attendant if we could be the last to unload.  With great understanding written on his face, he granted my wish.  Looking out the window, my heart danced with joy as I saw the strong, thick fog that encased everything around us.  Knowing how soothing that cool moist air would be on my face and in my lungs, I prepared us to disembark.  With my daughter on my hip, I headed to the open door with joy, knowing how good that night air would feel after being trapped in a plane for so many hours.  Stepping out the door of the plane onto the outdoor staircase, I received a shock I had not been prepared for.

The thick fog wasn't fog at all.  It was coal smoke!  Having closed my eyes and taken a deep breath, I was hit by a wall of heat and a chest full of air that made my lungs ache.  My eyes flew open in shock.  Trying hard to cover my disappointment and pain, I carefully carried my daughter down the steps.  Visibility was slim.  The smoke was EVERYWHERE!!  Finding my engineer and our stuff, we waited for our sponsor...