Journey to Mozambique

Okay, well I made it safe and sound to Nampula, Mozambique. I arrived Sunday, August 14 and have spent the last several days getting acclimated to the new surroundings (I think I’m doing pretty well). I’m also spending 3-4 hours a day with Luis, my Portuguese teacher. I’ll be in Nampula until the end of November, at which point I’ll move to Cuamba to begin my ministry. Next week I’ll move into my own apartment.

So I made it here, but let me say a bit about the journey: Final stats include 91 hours spent traveling, 7 different airports, 2 overnight fights, 0 pieces of luggage, and 1 borrowed t-shirt on the last day from a kind-hearted soul. I´ll start at the beginning…

I left Grand Rapids, Michigan (after a great time spent with family and friends) on August 10 and flew to Chicago, then London without issue. In London I had an eight-hour layover, so I went into the city to look around a bit, as I’d never been there before. I went straight to Westminster, and spent the next five hours walking around. I saw a lot of the big tourist stuff: Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, etc. Included from this leg are photos of Big Ben, me at Buckingham palace, and then the guard doing his little walk at the Palace.

Upon returning to the airport, I went straight through check-in (I already had my ticket). As I walked through the terminal I could tell that something wasn’t quite right. The flight numbers were displayed on the screens, but no gates were listed. The customer service desk was packed, so I went to one of the gates to have them look up my flight. That’s where I found out that the baggage handlers for British Air had gone on strike.

So I, and several thousand others, stood in line until they closed down the airport at around midnight, at which time British Air graciously put us up in random hotels around London. Most people were pretty upset about the situation, but I was kind of enjoying the idea of another day in London.

The next day I tried calling the airline several times to figure out what would happen, but I couldn’t get through. So after ensuring that my stuff would be okay at the hotel I set off into the city again. On this second day I walked through the business and shopping areas of Soho, then over to Old London city and along the waterfront. From this day are are a few photos from Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, Tower Bridge and the infamous Tower of London.

As I went throughout the city I stopped at payphones occasionally to dial the airline and get a busy signal. Early afternoon I actually got through and they scheduled me for a flight leaving Heathrow at 9:15pm that night. The baggage folks were still on strike, however, and all flights were already cancelled until 8:00pm, so I wasn’t really expecting the flight to take off. Because of that I continued walking around the city, finally deciding to head back to the hotel around 5:30pm – just in case.

I stopped in an internet café to check the flight and found that it was, indeed, a go. It was 6:30 before I got back to the hotel, though, so at this point I didn’t figure I’d make the flight anyway because I knew there were tons of people at the airport. At 6:45pm I’d gotten my stuff together and was in the hotel lobby, but it was packed so I didn’t even check out – I thought I’d be coming back for sure anyway. So I walked/jogged to the train station to catch the express train to the airport (I didn’t jog too much, because I’d already been walking around London for two sunny days in the only clothes I had, and I didn’t want to smell any worse). I got on the train and I waited. And I waited some more. Finally the conductor came on and said there had been an accident at one of the stations and the trains wouldn’t be going anywhere for several hours.

At this point I’m beginning to think that God doesn’t want me to leave London, and I considered just going back to the hotel. But I felt the need to put my best effort into making my flight so I would know that I didn’t miss it because I didn’t try. So I got a refund for my train ticket, found three guys heading to Heathrow, and we split a cab to the airport. We arrived about 8:15pm, so I still didn’t expect to make it.

I stepped into the airport amidst mass chaos. People were lined up out the door trying to make new travel arrangements – they even had tents set up with food and water since there was such a long wait in the sun. It seemed almost like a refugee camp, and I was looking around for the Red Cross. I asked an airline worker where I should go and he directed me away from all the traffic to this empty little room dealing with departures – I think just to Africa.

So I got my ticket and they connected me through to Nampula, though with no idea of where my bags were. Time was short, and I figured I was the most important thing to have in Nampula, so I didn’t push them too much on the luggage. I hustled through the airport, as it was about 9:15pm at this point, and found my gate. The plane was ready to go, but it was delayed because some guy had fallen down as he was trying to board. He was okay, just a little shaken. So I thanked the Lord for tripping him and catching him, and I took my seat.

From London I flew to Johannesburg, then to Maputo, Mozambique where I had an overnight before my next flight. Fortunately there are some missionaries in Maputo, so I called them and was provided with a meal, a shower, a clean t-shirt and a bed. I wouldn’t have had that time to spend with them otherwise, and they were a great encouragement, so I’m thankful for the opportunity. The next morning I flew on to Beira, Mozambique and then later on to Nampula.

Just today I received my last bag. So I am now complete with all my belongings. And that’s the tale of my trip over here. I kind of got a kick out of the whole thing. The best part is that I know this is just the beginning-