Welcome to Yemen

I left quietly at nine in the morning. The night before I enjoyed only my third shower and first change of clothes in five days. After gathering my bags together (finally in my hands!) I checked out, paid for the water and juice and internet I’d used, and left Farah Hotel. A cab was waiting just down the sidewalk and together we made the one hour drive to Queen Alia International Airport.

I thought it would be smart to arrive at the airport 3 hours before an international flight to Yemen. I was mistaken. Like in Cairo, you must go through security before you even get to the check-in area. Unfortunately, I had arrived too early to check in. I had forgotten that there are no lines in the Middle East, and so to keep everyone from rushing into the check-in area all at once, each flight is allotted a specific time only after which can its passengers check in. And so I sat alone awkwardly for over an hour, trying to kill time by reading but too nervous to focus.

As always, I had to fight my way through security, advancing my place in line when able but mostly defending the ground I had already gained. Once my bags were searched, I realized that I hard forgotten to leave Sam’s gift at my hotel so she could come pick it up later. She was already on the retreat before I saw my bags for the first time since St. Louis.

I checked in for my flight and had only just made it through customs before I realized I was missing my jacket and belt. In the rush to get through security I had left them back at the x-ray machine. Thankfully I was allowed to exit and reenter customs to retrieve them. Technically, that makes two trips to Jordan. After a nervous wait to board, I was off again once more into the Unknown.

My flight went to Sanaa via Beirut. I never thought I would be returning to Lebanon so soon, but I suppose one could hardly count sitting on the tarmac waiting for the new passengers to board as a return visit. The flight to Lebanon was sober. There was little talking and a lot of stern faces. The plane creaked on take-off like an old wooden ship. My glass of water vibrated so that there were permanent stationary rings, as if frozen in a pond. I thought of the t-rex in Jurassic Park. To calm my nerves I looked out the window, east into the infinite land mass of Asia. Beyond Jordan and Syria would be Iraq and the Caucuses, Iran, the ‘stans of Central Asia, and finally China. Those merchants who traveled the Silk Road must have spent very little time at home.

The flight to Yemen, however, was much livelier. The atmosphere was that of a public bus. People laughing and carrying on. Perhaps Yemen will not be so bad. Perhaps I should not let the news get to me.

The only Americans on the flight were a pair of fair-skinned blonde-haired youthful men that reminded me of the Winklevoss twins from The Social Network. I wondered what business they had in Yemen, and noticed upon landing that they were the only two standing in the Diplomatic line at customs.

Once through Yemeni customs I was quickly found by my program’s driver. In less than twenty minutes we had both my bags and were off. Sanaa at night looked more lived-in than Amman during the night drive from the airport through that city. Stores were open, people were out, the streets were dim and dusty. My driver and the baggage handler with him were friendly and we arrived at the house sooner than I thought we would. Traffic was not bad at this hour.

The building is tall and made of brick, and we ascended what seemed like seven floors along large stone steps. They set down my bags and opened the door to my room, leaving the key in the hole. I heard no one else and saw no one else. I arrived quietly in the night.

After unpacking, only a chance run-in with who turned out to be the Student Affairs coordinator allowed me to set up a time to meet the following morning for an informal orientation.

Finally, I had arrived in Yemen.