Arrived
I stopped wondering whether I was going to feel real excitement when the plane took off. My diary for that part is doodles, so I can't reproduce it here, but in brief, there is some stunning scenery visible on the way to Africa from Europe. The flight path included at least three Spanish mountain ranges, the Sahara (which wasn't as dull as the pilot wanted us to believe- even the desert has many forms) and of course, lots of fluffy clouds that simultaneously seem tasty and like a great surface to run on.
On arrival at Banjul International Airport, I was suprised at how easy and fast the immigration procedures were. My luggage arrived without a problem (and allegedly there never is a problem) and I dodged most of the bumsters (young men who earn a living by attempting to befriend tourists). I didn't shake off the last one but he was actually really helpful as he knew all the right people- if it wasn't for him I might have been stuck at Banjul Airport much longer, because the person who was meant to meet me wasn't there. It took some creativity and a long time to sort out -something that is part of the way of life here- but at that point I was too hot and bothered to control my thought processes.
The journey to the MRC was as exciting as the flight. Some of the images matched those in my childhood memories of Asia- huts, women working in the fields with babies strapped to their backs while men sat in groups smoking, the fonts and pictures used in roadside adverts, and the ditches that had to be driven through. I was thrilled at the colours that made my mind dance in time with my hair blowing all over the place in the wind created by the jeep- ie: in no rhythm at all!
I arrived at the MRC in the afternoon, knackered from the heat and the difficulties in getting there (which weren't that bad- just awkward for a first time traveller). I was so lethargic that I found it a chore to put up the mosquito net, and there were sounds which I thought were from a raucous group of other students who I wasn't in the mood to meet- I just wanted to sleep.
On arrival at Banjul International Airport, I was suprised at how easy and fast the immigration procedures were. My luggage arrived without a problem (and allegedly there never is a problem) and I dodged most of the bumsters (young men who earn a living by attempting to befriend tourists). I didn't shake off the last one but he was actually really helpful as he knew all the right people- if it wasn't for him I might have been stuck at Banjul Airport much longer, because the person who was meant to meet me wasn't there. It took some creativity and a long time to sort out -something that is part of the way of life here- but at that point I was too hot and bothered to control my thought processes.
The journey to the MRC was as exciting as the flight. Some of the images matched those in my childhood memories of Asia- huts, women working in the fields with babies strapped to their backs while men sat in groups smoking, the fonts and pictures used in roadside adverts, and the ditches that had to be driven through. I was thrilled at the colours that made my mind dance in time with my hair blowing all over the place in the wind created by the jeep- ie: in no rhythm at all!
I arrived at the MRC in the afternoon, knackered from the heat and the difficulties in getting there (which weren't that bad- just awkward for a first time traveller). I was so lethargic that I found it a chore to put up the mosquito net, and there were sounds which I thought were from a raucous group of other students who I wasn't in the mood to meet- I just wanted to sleep.
Comments