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.