Travels luckily also often involve randomness and surprises.
Arriving very early at Mexico City Benito Juarez airport this morning, I was beginning to think that I had lost all appetite for risks, realising I was in about three hours before my flight, when I was told at the American Airlines counter that indeed my 8:30 flight to Miami was cancelled... And that I could be rebooked on the 6:30 flight. Gosh, I was early!
I had to run though the security check and avoid the duty free shops despite the promises I made to bring back a few things, and finally got on the aircraft a few minutes before take-off.
I was about to be in Miami for much longer than expected. Miami, Florida, the home of my second expatriation, a place I had never come back to after Mr Obama's election, because, well, as a certain Charles Dickens wrote usefully for us in A Tale of Two Cities, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times". Now four years later, I am actually by chance taken back on the infamous site.
But before I actually put feet in Miami, I had to go through the US immigration, which always carries its possibility of surprises and randomness, yes again. After queuing twice for a misgiving of paperworks, I was weirdly interrogated by the immigration agent. He actually wished I had applied for a tourist visa on top of my journalist visa... As I was coming back from Mexico this time, I was not actually working and should have applied for a tourist permit, he argued, already knowing that I was not in any way in a wrong situation and that he would in the end let me through... But before doing so, he had to consult another agent and add a little pressure. Looking at him gazing at my multiple Ethiopian and Somalian visas, I could feel I was on the wrong side of travellers, arriving from Mexico, with two passeports and stamps from all over African and Muslim countries. I remained calm, maybe out if tiredness - short last Mexican night. But I could not help but wonder how much bother the agent could cause to less exposed travellers, Mexicans not understanding English, migrants with the wrong visa, etc. Ah you Amexican border...
After a waste of 20 minutes, I only had to go through the customs and declare... I had nothing to declare. But again, the agent wasn't so kind as to let it go smoothly. A green-eyed hispanic-sounding confident agent asked me why I travelled to Mexico. I replied I was just visiting. He added "visiting from France? A boyfriend then?" I did not have to answer to that question but I did: "No just visiting a friend". But he could not change his mind: "that far, from France to Mexico, it has to be a boyfriend, and a very special one"... He let me through, smiling. Was he trying to flirt? I wondered, did I get something wrong in the search for travel?
Anyway, knowing I was not going to quench that search in a Miami minute, I tried to blow it away, and headed to the airtain, I then discover with pleasure that Miami now had a direct bus to Downtown and Miami Beach! Unlike four years ago. What an improvement for me. It is now possible to reach the airport from South Beach in just half an hour and for 2 dollars.
Then here I am on Lincoln Road, enjoying my favourite Cobb salad at the Van Dyck Café I used to come almost twice a week in 2008 with the friends I met in this crazy city to have lunch or to listen to some jazz...
Time flies. I would never have imagined to be here four years after that 2008 summer. So much has happened since then. In particular Africa! If I had stayed in the US as I had planned at some point, who would I be today? Definitely not the same.
I feel heartbroken to have left fantastico Mexico, but it is for a good cause: my next trip will take me back on the Africa soil...
Cheers Amexican folks and thanks again for everything.
Arriving very early at Mexico City Benito Juarez airport this morning, I was beginning to think that I had lost all appetite for risks, realising I was in about three hours before my flight, when I was told at the American Airlines counter that indeed my 8:30 flight to Miami was cancelled... And that I could be rebooked on the 6:30 flight. Gosh, I was early!
I had to run though the security check and avoid the duty free shops despite the promises I made to bring back a few things, and finally got on the aircraft a few minutes before take-off.
I was about to be in Miami for much longer than expected. Miami, Florida, the home of my second expatriation, a place I had never come back to after Mr Obama's election, because, well, as a certain Charles Dickens wrote usefully for us in A Tale of Two Cities, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times". Now four years later, I am actually by chance taken back on the infamous site.
But before I actually put feet in Miami, I had to go through the US immigration, which always carries its possibility of surprises and randomness, yes again. After queuing twice for a misgiving of paperworks, I was weirdly interrogated by the immigration agent. He actually wished I had applied for a tourist visa on top of my journalist visa... As I was coming back from Mexico this time, I was not actually working and should have applied for a tourist permit, he argued, already knowing that I was not in any way in a wrong situation and that he would in the end let me through... But before doing so, he had to consult another agent and add a little pressure. Looking at him gazing at my multiple Ethiopian and Somalian visas, I could feel I was on the wrong side of travellers, arriving from Mexico, with two passeports and stamps from all over African and Muslim countries. I remained calm, maybe out if tiredness - short last Mexican night. But I could not help but wonder how much bother the agent could cause to less exposed travellers, Mexicans not understanding English, migrants with the wrong visa, etc. Ah you Amexican border...
After a waste of 20 minutes, I only had to go through the customs and declare... I had nothing to declare. But again, the agent wasn't so kind as to let it go smoothly. A green-eyed hispanic-sounding confident agent asked me why I travelled to Mexico. I replied I was just visiting. He added "visiting from France? A boyfriend then?" I did not have to answer to that question but I did: "No just visiting a friend". But he could not change his mind: "that far, from France to Mexico, it has to be a boyfriend, and a very special one"... He let me through, smiling. Was he trying to flirt? I wondered, did I get something wrong in the search for travel?
Anyway, knowing I was not going to quench that search in a Miami minute, I tried to blow it away, and headed to the airtain, I then discover with pleasure that Miami now had a direct bus to Downtown and Miami Beach! Unlike four years ago. What an improvement for me. It is now possible to reach the airport from South Beach in just half an hour and for 2 dollars.
Then here I am on Lincoln Road, enjoying my favourite Cobb salad at the Van Dyck Café I used to come almost twice a week in 2008 with the friends I met in this crazy city to have lunch or to listen to some jazz...
Time flies. I would never have imagined to be here four years after that 2008 summer. So much has happened since then. In particular Africa! If I had stayed in the US as I had planned at some point, who would I be today? Definitely not the same.
I feel heartbroken to have left fantastico Mexico, but it is for a good cause: my next trip will take me back on the Africa soil...
Cheers Amexican folks and thanks again for everything.
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