Heading Home

Wednesday, August 6, 2008 – Thursday, August 7, 2008

This morning I expectantly ventured to the main lobby for a gourmet feast, or what is comparably a delightful spread in contrast to the other hotel accommodations. Instead, I was greeted with empty platters and a shortage of glasses. I opted for the only available alternative, sugary croissants and slices of ham which I made into a small sandwich, and proceeded to gluttonously devour four more of my creations.

After breakfast I fulfilled the laborious process of dragging my luggage across the entirety of the hotels densely landscaped grounds to the bus to be transported to the Air France office for an early check-in. Considering the building isn’t too horribly far from the hotel it is a rather pleasant process and allows you to alleviate the hassle of check-in during the long hours prior to departure.

Back at the hotel it didn’t take long for me to replace my clothes with my giraffe bikini and cover-up and head to the pool. I didn’t need to wait long before jumping into the water. As a matter of fact, I barely spent time outside the cool currents. Perhaps more than a half an hour had passed and it was two o’clock. Steph and I trekked to the hotel restaurant to order our final meal before the ever-so-appetizing-and-delicious food provided by Air France. I opted for poulet de Christiane and riz along with bacon, onion, and carrots. It was absolutely incredible, the sauce perhaps the best lemon and white wine combination I’ve ever tasted. Afterwards, I ordered crepe au sucre. Steph was running low on francs and so I ended up treating her to lunch, tagliatelli carbonara and chocolate ice cream. It was terrific to spend my final meal conversing and laughing with my roomie and friend for life.

Following lunch I could hardly restrain the temptation to use a French keyboard one last time and checked my emails – the price three times that of internet in Sevare. With a few thousand francs remaining I thought the gift shop would provide the perfect opportunity to spend the remainder of my finances. I discovered the perfect final gifts for a few friends and with that ultimate purchase had budgeted every last franc.

After a final shower we gathered to embark on the jalopy old bus. Before boarding a glorious rainbow appeared in the overcast sky, the combination of clouds and visible sunlight like some elaborate pastiche or oil painting at dusk.

At the airport security was entirely lenient and Jerry and Mary Jo accompanied us to the final security point before we said farewell. It was heartbreaking to give Jerry a small embrace and thank him for the opportunity of visiting Mali and his support especially when I was confined to the Byblos with sun poisoning.

Two hours remained before our flight and already exhausted I couldn’t wait to board. The five and a half hours on the flight from Bamako to Paris were the most terrifying hours of my entire life. Heavy turbulence and lightning had the plane tumultuously shaking and losing altitude. Steph and I clutched each other’s hands at one point just praying for the trembling to stop.

Landing in Paris was both a blessing and a curse. A morning thunderstorm plagued the runway where we had to sprint to a bus to be transported to the main terminal. It was a long ride and then an equally long walk to our departure gate. The delay had us arrive with a minute to spare before boarding and soon we were once again aboard an aircraft with eight and a half hours to New York. In a window seat once again I was able to use the side of the craft to rest my head and fell asleep for several hours.

I was restless and expectant to reach New York but once I arrived it was a chaotic confusion of customs, claiming luggage, and bidding farewell to friends. I had to check-in at American Airlines and go through security and soon I was on my way for my final two hours of flight back to Chicago. With my Chex Mix and Starburst I snacked merrily on the plane trying to pass the time rapidly. I could barely contain my anticipation as I retrieved my luggage, said goodbye to Patti, and hoped in a taxi. The ride was an hour and a half but once I turned the corner onto Taylor Street I knew I had reached home.

Within the next week and half I plan on reflecting on my time in Mali and the countless memories and experiences of my four weeks in the country. Check back for my final brief posting and a link to my photography.