Last Day & Reflections of T&T

My last full day in T&T started with me sleeping in, practicing yoga while alone in the house, and reading.
I ate homemade bake and fish, which was really amazing. The bake (aka bread that doesn't rise that much) had coconut in it, which as we all know is one of my favorite things.
I also tasted the drink mauby. It was good, and reminded me of licorice.

Danille and I went to a Jazz Festival at University of West Indies (UWI) that evening. It was pleasant music. We heard a stellar violinist who fiddled some jazz pieces. There was a chocolatey male voice who scatted some tunes, but he could have probably worked better on wowwing the crowd. There was a lady who was a cross between Jill Scott and Aretha Franklin, and she was fun to watch. And some other cool bands.
Danielle and I got our chairs accidentally in ant hills, and for hours were attacked by angry ants.

The next day I went back my merry, super relaxed and revived way to the states.

A reflection I have to make about my vacation in Trinidad & Tobago is this: going to developing countries DOES NOT mean going back to nature. Often it means more industrialization. Some people feel like developing countries automatically implies they're back in nature, in direct touch with "The Source". That thatch roofs and oxen as vehicles are the norm. Not so. Developing country usually indicates the economic status of the country, not the rest of the components of what makes a society. Factories exist more often in the developing world (it's cheaper). And people live on top of each other in urban areas, for convenience. This is a really important thing to make sure people don't misunderstand when they think about the differences of countries.

Carride

The next day MamaD and her friend from high school took Danielle and me on a carride around the central part of Trinidad's island. We drove by lots of houses, and communities, and even more dried up fields of some dying agriculture and factories.

We stopped at the Temple on the Sea. Essentially, an Indian immigrant built the Hindu temple on the sea a while ago by himself. It was then demolished, and reconstructed by a group of people years later.
It was for Shiva. It had funeral pyre areas lining the beach.
It was a beautiful little temple. I walked in to pray to Ganesha and Shiva for a moment, before admiring the flags and thanking the volunteer who was cleaning the temple.

We then drove to the San Fernando Hill.
According to history, the Natives originally there thought of the hill (or was it a quarry?) to have magical healing powers. Then someone blasted half of the top of the hill and created it into a picnic area.
Looking off of the beacon, I could see the firing pillars of smoke from the oil refinery at the bottom of the hill.
We picnicked there for hours, before returning back north.

Tobago

Getting into Tobago late at night after a turbulent ride was tiring. And we were having troubles with hustling taxi drivers. Danielle and I were getting frustrated at the realization that my white complexion was drawing unneeded attention to us. No, sir, I do not have $$ signs on my forehead. Please leave us alone. But luckily, we finally flagged down an affordable driver who brought us to our villa guesthouse, by the 2 popular beaches in the west.

We get to MJ's (the villa) to realize that we were the sole guests for the 2 days we were there. One large villa, 2 young ladies with no need for all of that space, and keys to only one room. And a small pool in the backyard. I had a feeling that it was my duty to make the most of our fortune while we were there...but not the first night. The first night was for sleeping.

We woke up early to get ready for our beach day. I lathered on the SPF again (knowing that it was only in vain...I'd be red by the end of the day). The really great thing about our villa was the location; we were a 5-10 minute walk from the 2 main beaches. And a lot of shops and restaurants were nearby our community area. We walked towards Store Bay.

We got immediately solicited by a guy named Suggi (short for Sugar Lips...I kid you not) who wanted us to join his company on a glass-bottom boat ride around the coral reefs and coast. Danielle was less than excited about the concept, and I was practically jumping up and down. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Danielle....She finally agreed to go, after I looked at her with my big eyes. It was affordable, so really...what harm was there? I strongly doubted our pure reputations being at risk with these guys. They hit on Danielle, and I tried to mediate the conversation.
You see, Danielle's reaction to flirty men is to avoid them and get quiet. And I disagree with this method. So...I talked to the guys and flirted for her.

But it was all alright, because there were plenty of other people on the boat with us. The boat was an aging red tug boat with a motor and loose glass windows in the bottom of the boat. It was neat to see what was beneath the glass. We swept by clear water, fish, and coral reefs. The tour guides kept us giggling and laughing, and the bottom of the boat kept us engaged with the ride.
We had the opportunity to get out of the boat and snorkel through some of the coral reef, Buccoo Bay. Of course we wouldn't pass up an event like that! But unfortunately, Danielle and my swimming skills are not superb, so the boat guys put these floaties around us. Life jackets, basically, only they strapped them around our waists. None of the other people took the floaties. How humiliating. Thank goodness I have no pride! While we were in the water, I noticed 2 other people get on the boat for the floaties, which made me feel a little better about myself.
At first I was underwhelmed by the coral reef snorkeling. Reefs and fish, ok, now what? But then I began studying the reefs, and watching the fish. It felt as if I was beginning a dialogue with the underwater world. It was all so close too...! I could almost touch it...but then I eventually got back on the boat.
We rode a bit further to the Nylon Pool, which is a very shallow area of the coast that has coarse sand from the reef with which one can exfoliate. I danced and walked around instead. It was beautiful. After we rode a little more, we landed on an area where some man was showing tourists massive starfish. I was given one to hold for a bit. It was heavy! And hard to hold, it was so rough and spiky. I also felt bad for having kept it out of its natural habitat, and finally the man took it back and put it under water again. At this rest stop, we heard a Soca song about someone's "Pipe". I was dancing frantically, but a little shy about the lyrics.

It was a fun boatride, and we both enjoyed ourselves. But it was definitely time afterwards for some crab & dumplings. These crab & dumplings, though, were a whole other ballgame. These entailed of curried crab meat still in the shell (as if the crab crawled into the kitchen and got swept up in the pot of curry) and huuuuge, thick dumpling noodle things. I concurred that meal.

We left the Store Bay after doing some silly shopping (who shops at the beach?!). We wanted to make it to Pigeon Point, the private beach nearby. After a long mile walk, after passing guys trading fish and bars and mini beaches, we ended at the entrance to Pigeon Point - closed?! Why would a beach close at 5pm!? Well, it did. So, we sighed sadly and made our long trek back to MJ's (the villa), very sleepy.
We, of course, ran into a very VERY angry pitbull/rotweiler dog on our way back. This dog may very well have been on cocaine. It was growling energetically, and viciously, while doing back flips. I kid you not.
I insisted on taking a jog when we got back. So I got in my gear and, when it started to be sunset, I set out for a brief jog. Clearly Tobago has no/little running culture, because when I went past people they either stared at me or laughingly mimicked my jog.
When I got back, I took advantage of our sole inhabitants of the villa and took off my clothing. I jumped into the little pool naked. Danielle followed (birthday) suit, and we waded in the incredibly lukewarm water. It felt like swimming in silk.

We finished the night with a great meal at one of the really small restaurants nearby.

The next day we got early to Pigeon Point so I could see what the whole fuss was about. There is a long drive of drying palm trees before reaching the beach, and when we finally got to the beach, we found where all of the white people were.
Someone commented to me about the hot sun. "You'll burn." I looked at him, "I'm aware."

We read on the beach for a little bit, and walked out soon after so we could make it back to Scarborough in time for our ferry back to Trinidad.

Scarborough...what a sad tale of a city. A strip of little dilapidated shops. And taxis.
It was so super hot that we sought refuge under a tree for an hour or so, before getting onto the air-conditioned boat back to POS.

Mall Runs and Boat Rides

Danielle and I were going to Tobago, and we needed to kill time before the boatride at 5pm from POS.
So she took me to another mall, this time west of POS (the first mall was east). The Falls. And I felt like I had truly landed back into the states. She began telling me that this area of the island is where a lot of the tourists and ex-pats live. So you had a lot of American products and white folks over there. I could see that. The shops were clean and ritzy. The mall itself was open and pretty, like a city mall. Not so many booties around, either.
We grabbed some groceries to cheapen our stay in Tobgao, but I was devastated to find no channa punch in the store. I would be going without my beloved punch for a few more days.

We got on the boat to go to Tobago, and there were children everywhere in the boat. School children in groups, all screaming and loudly excited about their travels. On the way back from Tobago, we were again surrounded by schools of little kids. We concluded that we were being followed and hunted down by children.
It was a 2.5 hour boatride. And it was rocky. Danielle and I tried to pass the time and avoid sea-sickness.
But it seemed that no one else really thought about it. The kids all got sick and took turned vomiting in the bathroom.

Hot-ness

A thought: Smalta is not good.

The next day post-beach was to explore Port of Spain (POS). Danie had taken a week of vacation to be my partner in crime, which I really enjoyed. It's one thing to be a tourist alone, and another to be in the safety of a local. We hailed a Maxi Taxi (like a public bus) to take us in the city.
And now, about their roads system.

Apparently, Trinidad has a roads system of 3: main roads, highways, and official/private roads. The main road is a long route through towns, here and there. Often crowded and slow. Thus, the highways were made. The highways were to resolve traffic problems. But it's not noticeable to me. The highways are as crowded as the main roads, it seems. And it's got lights, so I'd identify it with more like a Route in the US. The private roads are only for government workers. That includes: public transports (maxi taxis), diplomats, cops, and ambulances (and etc.). The idea was that the emergency vehicles should not get caught in the traffic jams during emergencies. Fair enough.

It only took 30 minutes to get to POS.
POS makes me feel like I got stuck in a rip of this dimension and got pulled into a parallel universe. I've got to identify places with other lands I've been to (a thing I hate that I do, but anyways). So, it clearly resembled to me a hodge podge of places. It looked like Delhi, with a smattering of Antigua, the bustle of NYC, and the smell & feeling of Belize City. Danielle reminded me that we were, in fact, in none of those places. Thanks.
We made our way through the heat and bleaching sunlight (my sunburn ached and groaned under my clothes). POS is rather small, so scaling the city was not going to be too hard.
Downtown, the Financial District area, was right next to the shops, was a block off of the uptown area. We looked into shops. She showed me some buildings of importance, like where an Islamic group tried to burn some a building during their attempted a coup, a while back. This idea was very foreign to my grasp of reality, since the notion is unfathomable in the US.
Anyways, it didn't take much time.
We ended up relaxing on the Savannah, waiting for MamaD. They had agreed to take me for a jog, and the Savannah was the place. I'm such a puppy.
We waited and waited for the relentless sun to go down. We finally stopped waiting and Danielle walked me around the large 3 mile park, pointing out more buildings of importance and historical marks, like the 7 big houses.
My sunburn hated the sun, and the tight spandex even more. I was thirsty. I ran anyways, a 3/4 mile run. Bad move. By the home stretch I was dizzyingly thirsty and overheated.
When I finished, I grabbed 2 ice-cold bottles of water and guzzled them down. Another bad move. I wasn't sure whether I would throw up, cry, or get ill/pass out. All very possible. Luckily the ladies insisted on getting freshly cut coconuts at the Savannah (I SAW those during my run!). The water was rehydrating and perfect for post-run. The meat was equally needed. I'd live, after all.

Beach Day!

I want to make 2 notes before I continue:

• I have been spoiled rotten. Danielle and MamaD's hospitality was outstanding. They made me food, let me raid their house completely, and they paid for A LOT of what we did. I'm so grateful for all they did. Especially for the paying of the things. Otherwise, I would have been crying and $$$ in the hole.
• Clearly, I'm no Trini. Up early and asleep early-ish. I'm wake up at 9am to see both of them already up and about for hours. And while I'd stay up til past midnight, they'd be asleep for a while prior.

Moving along.
Sunday we packed up to go to the beach, Maracas Beach! We had our cooler in hand, and our other gear. SPF 55!!! Their family is tightly knit, so they were on the phone a lot with the cousins and aunts who were joining us at the beach.
We went in the car to pick up some stuff and go.
2 hours in the car, picking up things. Things I never really thought we would need to buy before going to the beach. Like leggings. Hahaha.
And ice.
This reminded me that I was, in fact, in the Caribbean, and people there are more easy going and relaxed. Take your time, you'll get there someday.

Oh, and we ate doubles for breakfast. Channa (chickpeas) curried in a pad of fried dough. Messy, juicy, and really really good. Apparently, it's standard breakfast fare.

Then we were on our way to the beach! The ride was curious...to get to this beautiful and famous beach, one must make their way up windy rides, over a mountain range, and down again. We weaved around the mountain for a while. And then the water showed itself. Bright blue. And steep green hills out of the blue. We made it to the beach!!!
Getting out of the car, my immediate reaction was that of Leonardo DiCaprio's line in "The Beach" when he says, "Trust me, this is paradise."
The beach was small, and book-ended by steep hills. But the beach was big enough. And GORGEOUS. bright blues beyond clean light sand. Dotted by large looming palm trees. Ahh.
Now, I'm not much of a beach goer, or a fan of beaches (or going into the water). But this time, I was all for it. I lathered on my burning skin the SPF55 and ran through the beach with Danielle to the water. The sand was scorching. The water was lukewarm and salty, very very salty.
We played. We swam ( though I really can't swim well). We waded. We danced. We swallowed gallons of salt (PHTA!). The waves lulled and rocked and got more intense as the day progressed. I was singing and humming the whole day. Danielle's little cousin, Avi, asked me, "You sing all de time? I do that too, but my mum yells at meh." I smiled. "That's why they put me into singing lessons..."
After hours of giggling and flirting in the water, we got out. Lunch time.

THE place to get food was Richard's. There were a handful of other food stops next to Richard's, completely empty of customers. Richard's had a line.
To eat what? You might ask.
Well, Bake 'n' Shark, of course.
AKA greasy delicious buns with fried shark meat inside. Add some garlic sauce, tamarind sauce, chow sauce, and veggies, and I'll never be the same. It was, awesome. And tasty. I'll always remember how satisfying it was. I want to eat THAT in the states! Shark, in T&T, is apparently abundant, so it's the cheap dish. Think tuna fish.
We lounged in the sun. And while I wanted to read, the warm breeze put me to sleep. Big mistake. In fact, I seem to find this a mistake I re-offend every time I'm in tropical climates. Sleeping, and baking.
The sunburn began.
We finally packed up to head up and over the hill, and I could feel the burn intensifying. Agh, I didn't want second-degree burns again. So I got back and took a COLD shower.
I later heard Danielle bicker with her mom:
"I'm darker than you!"
"No you aren't!"
I came in: "...I'm still white."

Danie wanted to see a film ("From Paris with Love", not a bad thriller). We were at the mall's cinema and got in a crowded line to get in. I got in the concession queue, to get an XL cup of ice. During the movie, Danie was shivering in a hoodie with the blaring A/C. I was right next to her in my tank top and skirt, laying cubes of ice on my shoulders and top half. The ice melted quickly on my sizzling skin. Look at us two next to each other, it was hard to believe that we were in the same climate.

Malling Around

After sleeping like a baby, I finally woke up to regroup and look at and around Danielle's home. There were getting work done on the roof, so things outside and in were slightly shuffled around, but I found it to be a charming 1-story. With open windows and a gate around the house. Luckily, no A/C (as I hate being excessively cold and energy guzzling). The community they live in, Maloney, is planned, with lots of fenced up houses on gridded roads. And every house is a different color.
Trinidad doesn't work in the state:town:street manner as in the US. Instead, you have your community, which is a chunk of land with a lot of houses. Then you have your area/region, which best was described of as a county. No states. Am I right?
We were slow to start for the day (mostly because of my inability to wake up during vacations), but when we did, we all made for their car. And I had an allergy attack. Not like any attack I had had in a while! As soon as I'd gone outside, my eyes were soaked with tears and I was unable to open them. And my nose was dribbling. What's going on?! Apparently the excessive dust from the drought and construction was a bit too much for my adjusting body. So we made our way to the pharmacy in a nearby mall - Trincity - for eyedrops. Danielle and I spent our day there.
Again, I was bewildered. Was I really in the US?? A big mall? Full of clothing shops?? It looked just like the malls I went to when I was growing up. Really?? Yes. Malls are that way.
But, it WAS an educational experience.
For starters, Trini women clearly have bigger booties than standard while suburban girl in the states. At last, I had found my people!! Booty brethren! In fact, looking around (and with Danielle's constant reminders), I came to admit that I ain't got nothing on these girls with it cam to junk in my trunk. I was merely a tourist in booties. And though they may have half of their population to be of African descent, and the other half is Indian (which meant that there was this interesting feeling like I was in Delhi sometimes), their models are all white skinny girls. I really don't understand the reasoning for that (or is there any?). Even so, the outfits were cute...
Which brought about lesson #2: T&T is expensive and pricey!! Sure, it's 1 USD to 6 TTD, but when doing the math while we shopped, I was shocked that their goods were as expensive - though actually even more - as NYC stuffs!! I wouldn't be stocking up on anything while in T&T. Danielle reminded me: Don't you recall me going nuts shopping in NYC? It's not that I like shopping at all; it's just a lot cheaper. Considering the majority of goods were imports, my shocked waned a bit.
I was able to dance around to the music in the shops there. Instead of people staring at me like a freak (as happens in the US), people giggled and smiled at me. I like the response to my spontaneous dancing here much better.
Lesson #3 was that MOST of the stuffs I was seeing in the stores were American. The clothes, the knick knacks, the food! I was still debating in my head; I was actually abroad, or was I in another US state/territory? The lines were blurring, and my shock was consistent the whole trip. Twix, anyone?
Lesson #4: Toolum, the sweet thing they have, tastes TERRIBLE.
So we shopped and talked and walked a lot. Big mall. We got some roti at the mall for my tasting enjoyment. I love rotis. Curried shrimp with spinach and potatoes, in a greasy, fluffy, MASSIVE dough bottom. Wrapped like a bloated baby in swaddling cloth. We joked about how impossible it would be to finish it off, but we ended up cleaning our plates guiltily. More walking was to be had. So we walked some more. And chilled up outside, in the incredible heat. Dry, sunny heat. I thought to myself, I will get sunburned at least once this week.
We ended the evening with a grocery run. Danielle's 2 baby cousins (0kay, 10 and 8, but oh so young) in tow. This was when the fun began! What is THAT vegetable? What is THAT?! Chicken feet in bags? Oh yes. And then, I saw the most perplexing display: Linseed and Seamoss/Channa/Peanut Punch?? What the hell?! Danielle and the group looks at me like I was a cave girl. Duh, yeah, creamy goodness. I was disturbed.
So, of course, I picked up some bottles to try.
A porter brought out the groceries for us.
And that is when I fell in love.
Not with the porter, but with the punches. HOW HAD THIS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE?! The channa (aka chickpea) milky juice went down in a sweet, savory gulp. I was being told it was a healthy drink. Seamoss tasted like a dolche de leche in a bottle, to drink. My goodness.
I drank the rest of the channa during dinner, and then fell fast asleep.

Another note: Danielle's ever-changing accent. She talks to me like a girl from New York. She talks to the people in the shops like she's from Trinidad, diplomatically. She talks to her mom and family with a super thick accent. It was like a wave of accent for her, always in between accents or switching with such speed that I sometimes was unsure if the person talking was her or not.

Day 1 - Some Realizations

Mama D and I talked some during the drive. She mentioned that we'd drop off my stuff at their home so I could freshen up before going elsewhere. Not one for formalities, I tried to explain that really, I was alright the way I was. MamaD studied me for a moment before repeating herself. I guessed I was going to have to freshen up. Later Danielle explained to me that T&T culture was the EVERYONE dresses up for EVERYTHING, so to her mom it was probably a given that I was going to make myself look nicer. I still looked pretty srubby. She was probably disappointed while I was visiting, in my looks.
MamaD and Danielle decided to have all of us meet at Danielle's work office, ScotiaBank, in Port of Spain (POS), to go get dinner. So, that was our next destination. On our way into the city POS, MamaD was explaining to my why I had looks of surprise and curiosity while gazing out of the car: drought. I was geared up to see a lush, vibrantly green and colorful place. What I was seeing was parched, browning land that reminded me of LA. Apparently they hadn't had rainfall in a while, and the whole country was feeling it. There was no water ban yet, but restrictions were being practiced by everyone to avoid disaster. I was reminded of my thesis work in India. Water: the world's biggest crisis.
Another surprise was the huge numbers of cars I was seeing. And factories. I don't know why I expected T&T to be au naturelle, but I was not anticipating a booming industrial sector. Wasn't I in a developing country? Aren't developing countries supposed to be closer to nature, more basic? Alas, no. I have forgotten that many (if not most) developing countries had big factories and oil refineries and commercialization. Coca-Cola, Nestle, Kraft...al of the big monsters. But I didn't really think, even while remembering this, I would see so much of it. I felt like I was driving through a tropical Michigan. Cars, highways, and factories.
The cars, though. The traffic was long! I began wondering if there could be more cars than people. MamaD was telling me that, in public transportation, the ride on the "private roads" (more on that later on) would take about 30 minutes to get to the city. In a car on the highway, an hour on a good day is not unheard of. Yikes.
We got into POS to meet Danielle, but she wasn't quite ready to leave work. So, I got a mini tour of the area in relation to Danie's life. This was her primary school, across the road from where she is now a manager. Danie says that that fact gave her a realization that felt a bit existential. Nearby was her high school. All private. All run by nuns. Her mom was also telling me about Carnival which, tragically, I had just missed. Next time...
Danielle comes out, smiling, and we kiss and hug happily. Mind you, I was still in vacation bliss. We gabbed a bit as her mom picked up another family friend and we headed off to dinner.
Movie Towne is like a strip mall in the US. In fact, I was surprised again to be out of the US. Very bright, well lit. We ended up finding ourselves in an open terraced area, reggae in the background, and landing a table at a commercial restaurant, Woodford Cafe. Danielle's other cousin and aunt showed up too, but I was not focusing too hard on this. I hadn't eaten for a very long time, so with determination I was telling Danie to order anything, immediately. I sucked down a mango smoothie as she ordered our shared dishes. Plantains with cinnamon (mmmm) and accra (which is like a puffed dough ball) with salted fish came out first. With steamed veggies, at my request. It was delicious, and I was ready to tackle our main meal.
Crab and dumplings. Basically, this version was fresh crab meat (shell pieces still scattered in the meat) stuffed in massive, thick ravioli. In a curry sauce. I was dedicated to that dish that night. The manager came over to hit on MamaD, but I barely noticed because of my wild food affair.
I slept like a baby after the meal, at their home.

Trinidad & Tobago - The Airport

When i arrived to Trinidad and Tobago (T&T), I was beyond exhausted. I essentially stayed up the night before, excited for the trip, got in my NYC cab around 3am to get to my 5am flight at JFK, and got into T&T around 2:30pm Trini time. I was bumbling around the airport; while trying to get through customs, I hunted for a pen to fill out the customs form for about 15 minutes (apparently pens don't exist in the Piarco Int'l Airport). When I did find a pen, I had to wait in a line for a while to use it, because clearly I was not the only person sans writing utensil. Finally, with completed form in hand, I walked through customs...to discover that I had left a bag of my stuff behind the customs lady, as the doors marked "Absolutely No Re-Entry" slid shut.

Experience #1 in T&T of i'm-not-in-Kansas (aka NYC)-anymore was when I asked the officials standing by if I could go back in and get my bag, thinking desperately about how in the US the guards would look at me, scoff, maybe put out a call via walkie-talkie, then tell me I was flat out of luck. But the guards, instead, simply shrugged and said, "Oh, sure, just wait until the door opens again." You, sirs, are gentlemen and scholars.

Experience #2 was the smell. One of my favorite parts of traveling to other lands is the diversity of smells. No place ever smells the same. Of course, I know some who do not possess the sensitive olfactory senses that I do, but I believe that most people would be able to concur with me on this concept. India is not like Guatemala, is not like France, is certainly not like T&T. T&T was a breathe of tropical dryness, with a mix of aging wood and exhaust fumes. The temperature was 94F, which was a shocker to the body (I had just come from 40F NYC, after all). And it was dry. But I was elated to be on vacation, and my tired body and mind sighed with relief, and nothing could bother me.

I waited for about over an hour for Danielle's mom. I didn't mind; I was on vacation! I could have slept at the airport smiling. But the taxi cab drivers at the airport slowly began surrounding me with a touch of concern and a douse of opportunity-seeking. I'm a tourist; I've got dollar bills tattooed to my forehead. This was another experience (#3) for me; the accents were varied, and thick. I was struggling understanding them all as they spoke to me. Note to self: depend on Danielle as a translator the entire time.

I was confident that MamaD coming for me, but these men were bringing some cognitive dissonance to my mind. For starters, I had no phone. And I didn't have their phone numbers. And I didn't have a computer. And I didn't remember the address to their house. And I had never actually met Danielle's mom. But, knowing Danielle and her great care with people (and details), I was sure that our agreement that I were to wear orange and wait for her mom that day was all that was needed. Besides, I was the only white person in the entire airport area (and a very white one at that). The drivers insisted that this was problematic. I was forgotten. I was abandoned. I was not supposed to be here. One man combed the airport for a computer. Another man insisted on me calling my family in the US for help. One man, the most insistent of them all, begged me to let him take me to a cyber cafe in a nearby town, find the address, and drive me to their house, without letting anyone know. And I was close to giving in, but something inside of me insisted "no". I was going to get a ride. Calm down. Relax.

After stalling the drivers for about 1.75 hours, I finally felt the urge to look up and see a tall woman with long wavy hair slowly making her way to the airport gate. I knew instantly it was Danielle's mom; she looked just like her. She gracefully smiled and said "You must be Kim." Indeed, I am.

I beamed at her, and happily followed her, babbling about the trip in.