Greetings from glorious North American soil! I have never had such an urge to kiss soil before as when I emerged from our plane setting foot in America and ending our flight! It was quite the trip! Most often on this blog you get to see the captivating parts of my travels, best pictures, best stories that sort of thing. Well here comes a story about the other, nastier side of travelling.
Caution some details may gross you out...and in no way am I going to soften the story...this is my letting off steam...okay?!
All was well the day we departed. I had left our flat a bit early to say good-bye to some friends. I felt a couple waves of slight pain as we walked but I thought that was only the intense heat of the afternoon sun and my pre-flying nerves. Five minutes into the tortuously jerky bus ride I knew something funky was taking place in my tummy. Halfway to the airport I puked...half a gallon sized zip-lock bag full! The drive continued two and a half hours on the worst pothole infested road you could imagine, with a driver who drives in two speeds, accelerating and slamming on the brakes!
When we arrived at the airport I was ready to vomit again. I flew off the bus and ran to the back, sandwiched between the bus and the security truck I lost the rest of the contents of my stomach. Now when someone is vomiting, Nigerians feel the need to help out and ask you questions. As I am sick leaning up against the dirty bus in the blazing heat, our security guard feels the need to assist me by pouring water all over the vomit (while I am still vomiting) making everything splash up on to my feet and pants. Along with the ‘washing of the feet’ he keeps asking me if the ‘devil is trying to get out’?! Not only did I vomit but because of the dual pressure of babe and vomit I lost control of my bladder!
After my violent vomiting session I sat on the curb waiting for Roger to unload our luggage. With my back facing the street, head in hands, I feel a harsh thump on my back and vaguely hear a woman lipping off at me. She shouts at me telling me I was blocking her way out of her car door (I was their first). Because I was in HER way she felt the liberty to open her door slamming it into my back..I have never heard Roger raise his voice at anyone before...I felt kinda proud and protected as he growled back at that lady! Good thing I had no energy...I might have been doomed to eternal punishment if I had!
Roger had to check in our crazy amount of luggage, in an overcrowded, much too small, void of cool air and no toilet airport. I was unable to manage the courage to step foot into the place (which on the best of days freaks me out). I stayed outside sitting on the stroller in the heat, the only white women around, vomiting with no bucket or bag. It took Roger close to an hour and so there I sat, wondering what to do. It would take at least five hours to return to our compound, we would lose our flights and it was only a six-hour flight to Germany. Should I plow ahead or crawl home? Onward we marched to the airport lounge... where I vomited every fifteen minutes until our plane left at midnight. Once on the plane I was only sick three more times. On my last return from the toilets I noticed a sleeping Davina grunting and tossing. I thought she was most likely going to be sick so I prepared a barf bag for her, no less had I laid my head down and she was vomiting.
For the rest of the flight every thirty minutes or so she vomited. Not pleasant! Amazingly I did not vomit any more and was able to help my little sickling.
I was so relieved when we landed in Germany, but knew I had to find a way to get from one side of the airport to the next...and the Germany air port is not small, not organised and has very few toilets along the way! Once in the lounge I showered, washed my pants in the sink and dried them with the hair blow dryer! Feeling somewhat more human I rested and mentally prepared for the ten-hour flight ahead. Still feeling woozy with a vomiting child, a flight that long might as well have been Mount Everest! As I mentioned my apprehension Roger calmly stated that climbing Mount Everest would be quite the challenge but worth it once it’s done...spoken like a man who’s feathers never seem to get ruffled!
The latter flight went as smooth as it could. Davina recovered somewhere thirty-thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean. I fully recovered when I settled into the hotel, showered with a clean fresh pair of LuluLemons on my bottom half.
Roger and I laughed that our journey was so long (32 hours) that two people could get the twenty-four hour flu and recover by the time you landed at your destination!
I am happy to report we are feeling better and well on the way of over coming jetlag. Roger escorted me down the lovely isles of Whole Foods Market yesterday. Wiping my tears of joy at the sight of the abundance of organic foods! And today I bought some maternity pants! I am all set and pleasantly enjoying the loveliness of North America!
