A Homecoming of Sorts pt.2

We touched down at Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam at roughly 11am GMT, 5th of August. First phase of my travel done, kaput, finito. Just a few more hours, just a few more hours, till Paradise.
Schiphol Airport is quite reputable in Europe. Delay times are apparently unheard of and it consistently ranks as one of the better airports in Europe and the world. I did not have the time to explore though. Too tired - I'd slept too little and at the wrong times. I did go into a few shops though. I was not overly impressed - too few shops and a lack of personality, I thought. I'll be sure to explore more next time I'm there. Which should be very soon, if all goes well. Interesting fact: 15 minutes of internet at Schiphol costs 3 euros. I would know. Damn you, facebook addiction!
After about an hour of lazing about, it was time to go. Destination: Accra, home, family, la familia. Why does patience wear out when you're this close? Why do a few hours feel like eternity when you've been away for years? We left Amsterdam around noon local time - a horde of Ghanaians with a generous sprinkling of foreigners, or obroni as they're called in Ghana. It felt like Ghana already, even on the plane. Smiles. More impatience. The flight to Accra was just as expected (KLM is now officially second, only to Emirates, in my list of preferred airlines!): Pretty stewardesses, comfort, delectable meals, the whole lot. The flight was smooth except for the last 30 mins, when we experienced some very serious turbulence. For some reason, whenever I'm returning to Ghana, the last stretch is always turbulent, not-smooth, rough almost as if the Fates love to play hanky-panky on me when I'm only a few minutes away from where-I'm-supposed-to-be. Anyway I didn't mind - is it called death when you're on home soil? Can you die when you're that close to heaven? Behind me, there were loud prayers and requests murmured to all deities of the universe, known and unknown, seeking forgiveness for past wrongdoings, promising to do-no-evil if they were spared this time. Quite funny. Of course all this was forgotten when when we landed quite safely 30 mins later. For some reason, Ghanaians always applaud touchdowns. To be fair, flights I've taken back have always had the worst turbulence. So, what else to do when you've spied Hell's very gates and lived to tell the tale? You'd applaud too. Not saying that I did.
I couldn't get out of the plane soon enough but once I did, I looked skywards and wiggled my toes in my shoes. Solid earth of Ghana: I was home, I was home, I AM home.

A Homecoming of Sorts pt.1

I left the USA for Ghana on the 4th of August 2009, roughly two years after I had first left for Princeton University, New Jersey and the first time I was going home since then. It felt, for lack of a more suitable word, weird. I think Ghana was beginning to cease to exist for me - it was becoming a land of distant memories, of a past that I could no longer dream of. I'd told myself and you (earlier) that I thought it was time to go home when I felt a distance growing between my family and I, when we talked over the phone. So the time had come and I was going. But yes, it still felt weird and surreal.Fingers crossed.
My last day in Princeton was eventful, to say the least.For some reason I can't quite make out, I'd left the most urgent things I had to do until then. I had to pick up malaria medicine, suspend phone accounts, say goodbye to quite a few people and run errands at the bank including informing the bank that I would be in Ghana (Just try using your bank card abroad without doing this - your card gets blocked! Good luck if you're trying to book a hotel!) Very predictably, I missed the last train out of Princeton that would get me to JFK on time so I had to take a taxi. Never mind that it cost $200 - it was the most hassle-free trip I've had to an airport ever. And it was probably a good idea because in retrospect, I cannot fathom how I would have made it to JFK with my clearly overweight bags, if I had to drag them even for a few metres when changing trains etc. Check-in was even smoother- I got to use the self-service machines for the first time (usually I can't because I'm not American or because I'm foreign, alien, untouchable, you-name-it) and the whole process took less than 5 minutes, instead of the usual half-hour or hour it usually takes for me. To make matters even better, my bags were not weighed at all - it appears KLM doesn't do it. Awesomeness! - because my bags were clearly at least 10 pounds over the limit.
In no time, I was onboard. Destination: Amsterdam. Exciting - my first time in Europe. Well, I would be in Schiphol Airport for at least 3 hours. I think that counts. The service onboard was amazing. Meals were frequent and great, seats were comfortable, stewardesses were pretty beyond imagination (or, perhaps anything looks good after you've flown American Airlines once or twice) and even the economy class had personal in-flight entertainment comprising about 100 hours of movies and a host of TV shows etc. (KLM, how I love thee!) My time onboard was mostly spent reading, though. The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushie. Apologies to all who feel betrayed by this choice of novel - I just wanted to find out what all the hype was about. If you don't mind the content, Rushdie's possibly one of the most gifted storytellers I've read -- only Dickens and Garcia Marquez come to mind for comparison. Anyway, so my time onboard was spent thus: reading, eating, sleeping, repeat, repeat. Good times!