The worst part of traveling is having to say goodbye. When you first get a on a plane to go to wherever you’re going, there’s an excitement, anticipation that grips you as you embark. When you’re facing the same route in reverse, it’s meloncholy. The trip home isn’t the same.
This time, though, we did something a little different.
When leaving Kenya, we leave in the dead middle of the night. Before ever stepping foot in Kenya, I heard all the horror stories about the airport in Kenya. Dead of the night worked for me because of the stories of no a/c. But a lot has changed since whoever was telling me those stories; Kenyatta International isn’t so bad to me.
We were looking for something to eat, perhaps three in the morning, and when we turned the corner and saw a Java House, all was good. Nduku, on the other hand, was quite impressed. Java House is a significant improvement from years past. To me, well, I felt there should’ve been more options, but it did look nice.
We grabbed a quick bite, killed some time, Nduku still looking around as if we were in a mirage, me still amazed that there’s a security guard literally guarding the restrooms.
We finally got on the plane and as planned, Najwa [and Nduku of course] promptly fell asleep.
Long flight. I may have got some shut-eye, but I was pretty excited about our next destination. I think I spent most of the night/morning watching the massive airplane on the screen crawl up the map from Nairobi to Istanbul.
What a genius idea Nduku came up with to spend a day in Turkey! Not only because we got to explore the city for a moment, but because, if we played it right, Najwa will sleep all the way back across the pond!