BA 0117 to America

Going to America was a long journey. Well long by air. Not quite a train journey, but long enough. We woke pre dawn in our tiny hotel in Zanzibar. (Stone Town Café- baraka@zanlink.com) . We traipsed down the ancient stairway in the white building and into our tame taxi drivers’ saloon. (Rashid +255 713 61 92 45)


The sun came up over Zanzibar Airport. At least security did not ask me for a bribe this time. We wandered out over the tarmac and boarded. The let 410 climbed out over the channel and dropped us in Dar es Salaam. We were bussed around to the international terminal, checked in and walked onto the 767 to London. The Scottish captain opened up the throttles, blasted us down the already warming runway and at 0900 exactly we unstuck, climbed out, and turned left over the Msasani peninsula. To our right we could see Zanzibar and then eventually Pemba. Forty minutes later, Kilimanjaro slid under the left wing. 9 hours later, we landed at the all new Terminal 5. minutes after that, we were on the train to London. The whole process had not been tortuitous. We had decided against an instant connection to Logan, and slept the night in London. The next day, we again climbed on board an aircraft. This time a Boeing 747. One of my favourite planes. Huge, four engined and majestic. The inside looked like a cinema. We taxied quickly and thundered down the runway. Hotels and the perry oaks sewage works whizzed by, we climbed slowly into the sky towards Ireland. I could not sleep, watched too many films, and sat wide eyed awaiting our landing in America.

Long Island went past the right wing, Manhatten was visible under the left, we curled into JFK and slammed ourselves down (or at least the 1st officer did) in a solid landing. He used no reverse thrust and we taxied into the old Pan Am, (now united) terminal.

Homeland security were courteous and pleasant. My two simultaneous valid passports with a US entry must have come up on the system as the officer rather regretfully took me for a second inspection.
“You’ll be entered from somewhere else” said his supervisor politely.
We entered a room full of seats with a bar counter in front and three computers. Cisca and I were allowed to sit together.
“Jah” shouted a smart Black officer.
“Sir” I barked back instinctively, and stood up before the bar counter.
“How long you stayin’” He asked.
“Till the 29th Sir” I realised that I was almost standing at attention in front of him. All those years of being in trouble in school were now paying off.
Junk, Junk Junk Went his stamps. And he handed back my passport with no further questions.
“Might I ask Sir, why I was referred to you?” I asked curiously as he waved me out.
“I have no Idea. I found nothing’ so you’re in” Said the officer. He looked like he wanted to say:” now get outta here before I change my mind” .

And so I walked out and found that the whole process was so quick, that our bags had not even arrived on the belt yet.

It was all very smooth. What was most refreshing was the second inspection room was not full of arabs/asians and but white Europeans who had been flagged by the computer. I was the only brown Muslim in the room, and I was in and out before the others. So Homeland Security get my vote.

Two bags later we were in. On the pavement waiting for a taxi.
This was America, and we were on the “sidewalk"!
But being JFK, there were no taxis available.

After 40 minutes we got a cab. A nice Dominican man drove safely and not too quickly to our cheap hotel. (The Alexander- hotels.com) We only had a day, and spent most of it sleeping. That night we caught up with our Chinese travel criminal/companion Jonny Reo (See early chinese blogs). He took us out and introduced us to his girlfriend. He was, a genuine host.

Most of our time in NYC was spent walking or sleeping. All the time, we were trying unsuccessfully to beat jet lag. We ended up at ground Zero looking at this whole in the ground that had changed the world. Behind me I heard Arabic. I looked back and saw that half the street food vendours were Arabs, with city suits buying hummus from them. There was not hatred, this was New York. Behind them were some religious jews trying to explain Judaism to anyone who would listen.
“Well done” I muttered to myself. “Well done New York-at least different people can live in peace here.
That night we caught up with Martin and Martucia Duff. Divers and hikers who we met in Pemba.
Martin was bitter:
“In practice, NYC is more socialist than Holland” Said Martin. “This is a totally socialist country. High taxes, high state taxes, high sales taxes, no services like health for your money. Oh and rent control. I thought America was the land of the free, Not the freely taxed. "

I was surprised but listened intently.

The next day, we woke up and hopped on the excellent subway to Penn Station. Here I satisfied my urge to take a train. We were booked on the express to Boston. Unfortunately, the train was full and Amtrak do not do seat reservations. How annoying. I was separated from Cisca and sat next to some man in glasses. I was so stressed with getting my book out of my daypack that I took no notice of him.

“Hello.” What do you do? I asked.
“I am an actor”
“Oh TV or Film,”
“Film”
“Hollywood?”
“Yes”
"Are you someone famous that I should know?"
"No, if I was famous you would know who I was"
"Ok,"

We talked about US politics- a recurring theme here, and he seemed very intelligent and decent. Then some woman came up and said:
"Ohmygod!!!!! are you Richard Jenkins"
"Yes"
"OhIloveyourfilms. I know you want to travel in privacy, but the visitor was so good"

I started laughing.
"what is it, she asked"
"I have no idea who this man is" I look at him ruefully. We talked a bit about his work, but I still had no idea. He fell asleep and I used the Amtrak wireless internet and googled him. I now had an idea of who this chap was. He woke up and we talked some more about fishing.

As he left, I said: "Ok, so now I'm going to have buy the bloody DVD of the visitor"

I have bought the DVD but who knows when I will have time to see it.

The train pulled into Boston South Station an hour late. The weather was cooler than the humidity of new york, but the sun still shone. Boston was a historic town, that was part of the birth of the United States. But we were not staing in the red brick down town area, we were taken to Milton, a suburb that is almost in the countryside. New England was all about autumn leaves falling from trees, and pumpkins. Here at last my body caught up with my brain. I slept in the roof of the beautiful wooden house owned by our friends DCH and his long suffering wife Beth. They had just moved in, so our window had two panes missing. The cool night air put me to sleep very quickly. We spent the days walking around lakes, going to pumpkin fests and apple picking. Every activity until 1900hrs was for the kids. Only then could we sit down with the paper and relax and talk about the world or where we had been for the last ten years. This of course mean't watching TV and the elections.

The US election is madness, It dominates everything and anything. And yet it is democratic madness in the most powerful nation on earth. What happens here will, in some ways, affect most citizens on this earth, The Choices are stark. Both men have excellent qualities and few bad. Barak Obama will be excellent for the US image in the world, but, from what I can deduce from his comments he has no clue about how to re-build America’s economy in this crippling financial crisis.

John McCain understands the economy, but he is tainted by the bruch of ancien regime. I sat and listened to all of the debates/TV programmes and barroom analysis. Obama is going to win, there seems no doubt about that. America will have its first black president. That will show true inclusivity. But if I was a US citizen, I have a sneaking suspicion that I would probably tick the McCain box. I think the world’s financial crisis cannot be solved by raising taxes and “re distributing the wealth”.

Of course while watching all of this I was able to keep up with world events too. I watched an hour of Headline fox news, which included 80 seconds of world events. Cisca was appalled-"No wonder" she said.

In DCH’s house, I finally felt as though I had arrived in America. Real America, with real families and real problems and real jobs. Not the cosmopolitan madness of New York. All too soon it was time for us to get back to work. Work mean’t flying to Las Vegas for the DEMA dive trade show.

I should be in the show right now, but I think I am the only person in Las Vegas with an genuine (non alchohol induced) upset stomach. So I am tapping away while Cis sells Swahili Divers (www.swahilidivers.com) to the great and the good of the Dive Industry.

Until our next missive……….. I wish you well and happy voting.

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