Change In Plans

Greetings from Ataturk International Airport, in Istanbul.

As I stood in the “All Other Passports” line at Turkish immigration yesterday, I realized that this may be the most exotic place in the world (or at least the most exotic place that my travels have taken me).

From where I stood, I could see Russian mafiosi (and their spectacular-looking gun molls), burqa-clad Muslim women, a team of black youth soccer players from Flanders, Belgium, migrant laborers from Pakistan or Bangladesh, and doughy Eastern Europeans of all varieties. Life’s rich pageant, for sure.

This impression was strengthened tonight as I waited for the 11:50 pm flight to Singapore, taking me halfway back to my family in New Zealand.

I spent a very entertaining 90 minutes drinking beer with 3 South African mercenaries, They are all ex-SA Defence Force officers, Afrikaners, working security in Iraq.

At first they discouraged me strongly from considering a move to Cape Town. They cited statistics on the relative violence in Baghdad and Johannesburg. They explained that they sleep with their weapons under their pillows in the Free State, but over in the corner in Iraq.

Eventually, one said, “Move. We need white voters.”. In the end, they were very patriotic and proud, and resollutely South African. For what it’s worth, they were not impressed by the US Army (although they respected the Marines), and they were certain that Iraq will explode into civil war, approximately 10 minutes after the Americans “retreat.” They claim that they come under fire - guns, grenades, or IEDs - twelve to fourteen tImes per day when they are on mobile security details. Not in Kansas anymore, dot com.

While we were talking, several dozen white-sheet clad monks, a trio of Mongolian women in traditional dress, two score Japanese tourists, a few Hasidim. and countless proud Turks walked past us. The variety and beauty of the human species could not be more apparent.

The last 10 days have been fun - more than fun- but I am thrilled to be finally on my way back to India and the kids. I miss them terribly, and feel as though I have missed a large piece of their childhood (horse riding, math homework, new friends) in the short time I have been away. It isn’t like being a South African mercenary, gone for months at a time, and exposed to tremendous danger, but it is long enough for me.

Incidentally, the South African mercenaries were not impressed at all with the Haute Route trip. They were interested in the fact that I could speak Afrikaans a little, but ultimately realized I was a chardonnay-swilling brie eater. Tough guys.

Next stop, Singapore!