The moment I step off the
plane at the Kenya airport I am bombarded with the very distinctive scent, one
that I used to think of as Indian, but now know otherwise. The slight smoky
scent, human sweat, wood, and dirt, a very used smell. Not unpleasant. Smell is
connected to that old part of your brain and smells evoke memories very
strongly. It must be something about less developed countries.
Where the Amsterdam
airport was huge, shiny, sterile, and overwhelming the Kenya airport is small,
cramped, but thankfully not too confusing. Lived in: it has that lived in feel
same as India.
Granted when I was in the
Amsterdam airport I hadn’t slept a wink, it was 2am for me and there was bright
sunshine coming in through the windows. Too big and hurried, bustly and
crowded. The added security at each and every gate only added to the
atmosphere, there to make you feel small and lost, shunted through lines. In
Kenya, at the Nairobi airport it is easy enough to get my tourist visa and find Wes and Benson. We
climb into some type of old range rover and I am reminded of going up the Sani
Pass in a land rover 4x4. Stick, and hard to start, clunky, and not at all
reliable. But we escape the airport and drive down barely paved roads, avoiding
buses. I smile to see palm trees and stray dogs, greenery. I can’t wait to see
it in the daylight. I love the smells and sights already.
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