One of the items I've saved to stash away in a box or book of trip mementos is a boarding stub from one of my British Air flights. Under my name, where the frequent flier number would have been (if I had been a frequently flier), was instead printed "World Traveller."
Jennifer Reisig
World Traveller
By then I was. 3 continents in 3 days. 20 hours in the air. We skimmed above Lake Victoria while I nervously glanced out the window searching for land. "No worries. I just saw shrubs," my seat-mate reassured, and moments later we were on the ground in Entebbe. Two images will forever be locked in my mind as Africa's first impression: 1) Two women with large bundles on their heads, walking along a hill-top road just beyond the airport runway fence. They seemed not to notice or care about the jumbo jet taxiing nearby. 2) An awning-covered staircase rolled up to the door of that jumbo jet, whose purpose was to lead us straight onto the tarmac, bridging the gap from one world to another.
I had arrived with few preconceived notions of what the next 13 days in Africa would bring. I was ready.
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