Destination: Amman, Jordan

So it began. With only 3 hours of sleep I dragged myself to the airport to head out to Mardid. The lack of sleep and its physical implications where not the issue, but mentally I was still not prepared for the emotional tear that this journey might have on me.

When arriving at the airport @ 5:30 in Porto, it was with great suprise and happiness that a good old friend was already waiting for me to embark on this life changing journey. She was waiting at the airport with a note and a symbolic item that I must give back when I return. Even before doing the check-in, even before leaving Porto, an emotional turmoil was taking place. Even before reaching Palestine, I could feel something change.

After leaving Porto, the physical reality of travelling, the unconfortable airplane seats, the endless stop overs and the sense of being lost started to take its toll. Arriving in Madrid at the expected time, the first leg of the journey was complete. However, now I had 4 hours to kill that were fulfilled by pacing up and down the Barajas Airport and drinking copious amounts of coffee. Of course. This trustworthy matrix would be applied in Istanbul as well. The Check-In desk to Istanbul opened ar 10.15 on the dot. Quite impressed with Spanish time keeping, it seems that somethings have changed. 2 Hours passed and the check-in was done, thanks to the ridiculously long queue that was generated as the result of the UEFA Cup final being hosted in Istanbul. Great. Nevertheless, it was done and I was looking forward to meet Johnny in Istanbul. Sleep deprived and disoriented, I magically made myself through the airport terminal towards the connection fligh area where I would meet Johnny. Suprise, suprise. I had no credit on my phone and the mission to contact Johnny was gloom, let alone finding him in the massive terminal. Alas, I walked towards the Pub Zone. Guess what? Yes, I found Johnny pounding beer at a cheesy pub that was blasting ancient tunes. According to him, we still had time to kill so we ordered a couple of beers and started drinking over the prospect of reaching Palestine. However, something was not right. After pounding the beer and before ordering another one we just wanted to make sure that the flight was not delayed. Well, our flight was not departing in the expected 2 hours, but in 20 miuntes. Johnny was mistaken as the changing time zones played a trick on him. We ran, we made it. Before we knew it we were chatting away, eating and drinking beer while the airplane made contact with Amman, Jordan.

After the guards took the piss out of my passport in Arabic, looking at my passport picture and at my face in great confusion, he let me pass. To be fair, i would of done the exact same thing. Now we needed to pick up Johnny's backpack. What a mission. We spend ages looking for it, we were sure that it had been lost somewhere, somehow. Just as we were losing hope, we found out that we were loking in the wrong conveyer belt. Mind you, there are onloy 2. We started this trip in a fashionable idiotic style. Epic. Once again, to maintain tradition we encountered a minor problem. Well, the comrades that we were supposed to meet: Dana, Lindsey and Steven were not there. Running from one terminal to another, we soon found out that we had missed each other on various occasions while looking for each other. But in the end all was good.

We got into a cab after and headed towards the centre of Amman, where our hotel was situated. Crusing through a highway with old trucks and no traffic lanes, our driver Mohammed told us that we were free to smoke a cigarette as it was going to take approximately 20 minutes. However, as Johnny and I were in one taxi and our comrades were in another, the taxi drivers drove side to side while chatting. It seemed that they wanted to take us to the best sweet shop in Amman. So they did. Our taxi drivers quickly became our friends while we all ate a dilicious cheese covered in honey sweet. Amazing. Arab hospitality is amazing. And this was only the begining. I was already falling to the Middle East and I had only arrived 1 hour ago. While eating this delicacy, over a can of 7up or two the group clicked immediately. After all, we were all there for the same reason: Palestine. The thirst to visit Palestine already laid the foundation for what will surely be, a long lasting friendship. We paid, left and headed to the hotel.Our taxi drivers, or better still, our new friends offerd to pick us up @ 7 where they would take us to the border where we would catch a bus and make our way into the occupied territory of Palestine.

After a little conversation, as soon as we hit the bed it was lights out. They next day, Palestine.

zeca.afonso

Hectic Beginnings

One word: Hectic.

3 days in Porto were enough. Or so I thought. The fact is that 3 days were not enough at all, to run all the errands that were administered, along with seeing friends, family and comrades. Insane. Time was readily spent on friends, and surely, i would not have it any other way. The only regret is that I was not able to expand time and space to accommodate all my friends. Consequence: running around non-stop trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. Lack of time, with numerous friends to see. This battle has definitely taken both a physical and mental toll as I currently am more tired than I was before departing Brussels. Not Good. 

But not all was lost. At least from the time here I got to see dear friends, sip great coffee along with the occasional political discussion at my old high-school. This actually happened today, when I popped into my old high-school to see the teachers that have molded my intellectual process to this day. Actually, thinking about it, it is thanks to those people why I am heading to Palestine. 

In less than 5 hours I will be heading to the Airport to embark on an epic journey to the Middle East. However the hassle of changing airports, changing flights before reaching the final destination will become a routine. From Porto to Madrid, Madrid to Istanbul where I will be meeting up with Johnny before we fly out to Amman. The day that awaits me is going to be long, arduous and extremely hot. Nevertheless, the a cool breeze blows through my mind whenever I ponder about meeting people that want to see, experience, feel and witness the struggle of a people. A people, that sooner or latter, that will be liberated. 

Hopefully tomorrow I will have the resources and the physical ability to post up what happened, what did not happen, what went wrong and what went extremely wrong with the flight to Amman.

Inshallah,

zeca.afonso