The Journey

Well, friends, I'm writing to you from Mozambique, hearing the call to pray echo across the city.  But first, I'll tell you about the journey here. I have four months to tell you about being here!

My travel started Wednesday morning, with packing up my grandparents' car.  After saying goodbyes to my sister, brother-in-law, and my adorable little niece, I ran a last few errands and then drove an hour to my grandparents to return their car.  I piled my suitcases on my aunt and uncle's porch, and spent an hour or so chatting with family until my aunt got home. Then we loaded my suitcases (minus my little travel pillow, which apparently grew little legs and ran off with one of the kids) and we drove to DC.  From there, I checked into my flight in record time.  I was at the airport three hours early, and conveniently, no one else was in the queue for check-in.  I walked straight up, checked both bags straight through to my final destination, and then went through security.  That also went very smoothly.  I think both check-in and security took about thirty minutes.  My next stop was to find another travel pillow in an airport shop, buy some water, and then settle in to wait.

I had a slight moment of panic when the staff at the gate for my flight wanted to weigh all hand luggage.  I've learned that the best way to avoid overweight checked baggage is to put books in my hand luggage, but this did not bode well for my hand luggage.  Being rather sneaky, I quickly rearranged my hand luggage so the weight was split between my "hand luggage" and my "personal item" (which is a rather large purse!).  They only weighed the one, said it was fine, and then I went back to my seat and switched it around again, putting what I would need during the flight in the bag that would be under my seat.

After my final texts were sent and phone calls made, I turned off my phone and prepared to board.  I was on an Airbus 340, and the center luggage compartments are very high for a 5'2'' person.  A very kind man saw me trying to figure out how to put my bag up, and he took it for me.

The flight was reasonably full, but the seat next to me (I was on the center aisle) was vacant.  I came to appreciate that much later in the flight.

We took off at about 5:45 p.m.  Once we could, I turned on my little entertainment set and started scrolling through the movies.  I was not very sleepy during the flight, and I watched One Thousand Words (eh, it was ok but not really good), Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (LOVED IT!!!!), Hunger Games (Didn't read the books, but so many people keep talking about it I figured I might as well....I probably still will not read the books, nor would I buy the movie), Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs, and Madagascar.  Towards the last two, I was falling asleep.

We stopped in Dakar to fuel and take on some new passengers.  After a brief hour on the ground, we were off again, with another eight hours to reach Jo-berg.  By this point, I was starting to feel ill.  I don't know if it was the food, but I started to feel like I could be sick.  It was so nice to have the seat next to me available to stretch out a little more.  The flight attendant brought me Schweppes Ginger Ale and a hot wash cloth and I started praying that I would survive the flight.  I dozed a little bit and by the time we landed, I felt reasonable but still not very good.  I walked down the steps of the plane to the shuttle for the terminal with a gorgeous African sunset glowing in the distance.

Once in the airport, I started feeling ill again.  I also had to decide if I needed to go to the International Transfer section or Immigration.  Technically, I was continuing on to another destination, but I knew I would need to go through Immigration in order to go to my hotel for the night.  With a deep breathe (more to calm my stomach), I went through Immigration.  After Immigration, I came to baggage claim.  Dad had said I would probably need to collect and then recheck my bags.  I waited and waited until the very last bags were circling on the carousel, but neither of my bags were there.  I went to the man who was collecting the last unclaimed bags and showed him my claim ticket.  He assured me my bags would have been sent straight to my next flight.  Hesitantly, with another prayer for divine provision, I went through Customs and found my way to the City Lodge.  Thankfully, I had packed my pjs in my hand luggage.

The next day, I repacked and found my way to the appropriate counter for my next flight.  The woman working could only tell me that my luggage was in their system, but she could not guarantee that it would be on my flight.  Apparently there was no way to tell exactly where my suitcases were located.  With another prayer, I went through security and to my gate.  After waiting another hour, I boarded my second plane.  This was a much smaller Embraer 135.  To give an idea of how small it was, I was in seat 4B.  The flight was only an hour and half.  Before I knew it, we were landing at the "aeropuerto internacional de beira."  All twelve of us deplaned and went through Immigration.  I could then go to the luggage carousel and...my bags were both there!  Both locks were broken but they were there!  I then had to x-ray all of my belongings, shuffle them back onto the cart while six men watched without helping, and then I could go get my visa.  After that, I was able to give my parents big hugs!

On the way to their house, they took me to the beach for my first glimpse of the Indian Ocean.  The rest of evening was spent at Mom and Dad's house.  And so begins my time in Moz.