A few personal traumas probably didn't set me off to a great beginning for my trip. The planes and airports along the way were actually quite painless. Arriving in Miami and making it through customs and passport checks was also relatively easy. The lines moved quick enough and the questions weren't too imposing. I've gone through worse in New York.
I guess it really went downhill after arrival. The person who was supposed to meet us wasn't there. Our plane had come in a few hours late but one would expect people to check out that information- readily available as it is on all these fancy electronic monitors the airport is adorned with- and then wait. I had no contact information (I know, I know. I did try to secure this before leaving but it was impossible- chalk it up to one of those personal traumas I mentioned.) I finally managed to track down a number, buy a phone card and make contact. Of course, none of the pay phones in the lobby seemed to be working. I went back to the money exchange booth to have my newly purchased phone card checked out (working) and then went in search of more phones. The row of pay phones on the second level (down, as I came to find out that's what second level meant, not up as I had initially assumed) looked bright and shiny but also didn't work. (I did fly back to the US, right? Land of working systems and all things electronic???) I was beginning to miss Kinshasa dearly at this point- a mere two hours into my stateside vacation.
A nice guy at the money exchange booth on this level tried out the number I was trying to call on his own cell phone. Success. Sort of. The child who answered the phone didn't know where his mom was or her cell number but would call her to find out. Yeah, I was more than a bit confused a this point, but luckily I come from Kinshasa where using reason and logic is not necessarily the best way to solve a problem. I hung up and decided to call back in a few minutes.
I found a working pay phone eventually, made contact with the young boy who was now able to supply his mom's cell phone and transfer of the children was a go. Now on to find my ridiculously luxuriant hotel for the conference. I was definitely not feeling ready for five stars.
Upon check in, I found out that I was sharing a room (something neither I nor the roommate were expecting on this first night.) She kept talking about how she had traveled all day and I finally had to agree that yes, some of us came from even further away and had been traveling for several days (I left out the with four children part because I was on the edge of tears at this point. A very unwelcome welcome.) My key to the room didn't work and my luggage was nowhere to be found. Kinshasa was looking mighty comforting in comparison.
By the time I had navigated my way through all four buildings of the hotel and back to the main lobby and then back again to my room, I was pretty much on the edge of a break down. I could barely hold back tears as the bell boy handed me my bags. He knew enough not to wait for a tip and scampered off to deliver the rest of his luggage. Me? I ran out to the nearest Publix marveling at all the South Florida joggers with nothing to do but enjoy the leisurely life. Oh Western world take it easy on my senses.
I am at a loss as to how to address all of the people standing around to open doors and smile at me. My French is ever ready but useless and I can't seem to remember the English greetings. Mostly because no one is greeting anyone and they are all walking by caught up in their own worlds. Is it always like this?
I've finally arrived at my room, in isolation, surrounded by enough space and furnishings to accommodate several Congolese families. The bathroom is as big as my kitchen back home. It's so cold I have gone outside in search of warmth- and am even considering putting the heat on. I have been in these kinds of hotels before- mostly in Africa, where it should feel even more posh and oppressive than it does here, but somehow, on African land, I feel like my feet are firmly placed. Here, I am just completely unstable on these new American land legs.
