He claimed all along to be scared of flying. We make our way through the Newark air terminal using rides on a golf cart type vehicle, which he was thrilled about, and then a small mono-rail train which reminded him of Atlanta and the Atlanta airport where he had gone with us to pick up our son a few weeks before. He especially delighted in the recorded voice, The train is about to start, please hold on. Other than an interminable wait of five hours in Amsterdam our flights were without incident all the way to Abidjan. Having not taken an international flight for several years, I was amazed at the amount of selling the airlines do with their duty free privileges.
Prices are better at the local mall.
24 hours after leaving Syracuse we are landing in Abidjan, a place that I visited as a Peace Corps Volunteer 33 years ago. My first impression is, It has not changed. Actually it is smaller than I remembered. The air just seems to engulf me and for a moment I am not sure what is wrong. We proceed across the pavement toward the terminal and the arrival sign in both French and English.