The great Trek _ The journey home

As Kanibal says on quido's hit song Soweto "never forget where you come from, remember you can always go home". So the time had arrived for a chapter to close so that a brand new one can be written, because as one door closes another door of opportunity opens (I can be all philosophocal too, not just sarcastic).

I spent my last three weeks in Nancy residing my my Indian friend Ashish Malik (we had some great nights, New Year’s in Paris and others). I picked up a liking for Indian vegeterian dishes, who ever knew that veggies could be so tasty. Saying goodbye was not easy, my coach was not pleased to lose my services the season we get promoted to a league where my speed can actualy be useful, tears were shed (guys cry too you know, we just don't do theatrical stuff like the girls). But all in all I had a great time in Nancy and I will miss the people (Cindy tu me manque) and the ambiance. 

Bored at the airport

So after spending the whole week lightening my luggage (i'm still wondering how I accumulated so much junk), I had to send some by post and spent the whole week weighing my luggage just to make sure. So the train to Paris and Roissy airport was smooth as ever (even slept on the train, screw you insomnia!, b**ch be gone!). But the real fun was at check in. I got lost, like always (how a geologist gets lost in an airport is mystifying to me). My suitcase was over the limit by one kilogram and sure as heck was not in any mood to pay the 50 euros charge; a lesser being would have panicked but not me. when packing for airline travel always remember it's wheight they count and not space, so i open the suitcase and pulled out all my toiletries and it went down by two kilos (aftershave wheighs a lot). So I put all the creams and colognes over 100 ml back and put my shoes in my laptop bag and voila! 22.9 kilos (Common sense, try it).

I had to thank the jolie fille at check in (the girl was cute and helpful too), so I headed to the scanners where this overly muscular chick checks my luggage twice, sometimes having dreadlocks is a problem because you spark suspicion wherever you go (as if I would sneak drugs or gandja onto a plane,  come on!). This chick even wanted me to apparently open my camera (girl was on my case), the German girls behind me were laughing their ass'es off, packing my undies in hand luggage will never happen again, she pulls out a pair of boxers and goes "these are big, what are you packing?, the skinny one's are always blessed". The girls had a good laugh and like a good sport I acknowleged that she got me good. So I packed everything back and sat down to enjoy my sour worms, who would have thought going home would be so eventful?.

An hour later I arrived in Frankfurt to catch my connecting flight to Windhoek, after another getting lost episode I get my boarding pass. The fun starts at passport control, explaining French residence permits to German police is not something you should try. But ain’t no use arresting and deporting me if I'm already goin back, they let me go but not before Checking my luggage thoroughly again (the lack of trust when you have dreadlocks). so I hoped for no more suprises, but then a tall guy walks past me wearing his herero military uniform, just my luck I'm previliged to be on the same flight as minster of youth kanezambo and so many traditional leaders, but did so many of them need to come collect the skulls, they should have just let the German's bring them back and then send a large delegation to receive them at the airport (4000 is a lot of herero’s but I know there are more). Insomnia decided to hand me a parting gift, I only fell asleep at 3h00 just to be awoken at 3h50 for breakfast, but the excitement was already building, I was home, back on the mother continent, back in the land of the brave (Kapana here I come). Who would have thought a journey home would be so interesting?