See that smile? That is the smile of someone who doesn’t yet understand how the following 24 hours will send her into a mental meltdown. That is the face of optimism. However, if you were to jump into the future from that moment, you would see that face sobbing into a too-small, scratchy tissue courtesy of the Capitol Hotel bar in Abidjan.

If you thought my arrival in Côte d’Ivoire would be rocky, you were right! I’m not sure why I didn’t predict that myself….. There was no mechanical failure or lost luggage. Instead, it was the general realization that I just walked away for a year from the people I love and a place I understand. And, more importantly, a place and people that understand me. It’s hard to leave people and places you love. War and instability force many people to leave their home countries under duress, and I can’t imagine how that must feel. But when you walk away willingly, you only have yourself to blame (or thank? maybe?).

So here I am in Abidjan. A city with an airport so intimidating that my first words after emerging from the plane and walking out into the airport were, “My mother is NEVER coming here.”

Our arrival was reasonably smooth until we entered the airport after passport control. That’s when all hell broke loose. We were two white people with mountains of luggage (although I felt like I packed light?!?). Cue the “helpers.” Everyone in the airport who was waiting to assist anyone with anything rushed toward us. There was supposed to be a car from the hotel waiting for us, but there was no car. While we waited for the expected car and tried to make a plan, the realization set in. Abidjan, at this moment, is not built for tourists. The only people coming through here are with the US Embassy, the US Military, or various NGOs/other organizations providing aid and support. It is a place on the rise, but it has yet to arrive at the tourist plateau. The tricky part? I am essentially a tourist with a one-year visa and a dwindling growth mindset.

We finally gave up on the car and hired a cab driver who was glued to us from the start. I think he knew the drill: the car was “supposed” to pick up clueless tourists + the vehicle did not show = desperate people who will do anything for a ride. He spoke speedy French, was lovely, and we arrived at our destination, so that was a win.

We were supposed to start the orientation at the US Embassy the next day; however, my American teaching colleague, who was flying from Kansas, missed his flight, so the Embassy put off our orientation for a day. They instructed me to “take a day to relax and enjoy the city.” So, in case you missed my earlier paragraph, this city is not built for tourists. What does that mean exactly? It is developing, which means:

1. There are few sidewalks.
2. Trash exists everywhere because there is no recycling.
3. The water is not safe to drink.
4. Few shops accept a bank card or visa.
5. If you use cash, stores often have little change, so you generally overpay for everything, especially if you are not Ivorian.
6. There are no suggestions on Trip Advisor.
7. People expect you to negotiate for things like taxis and apartment rent.

I could go on, but you get the picture. Another critical point to note is that I have minimal negotiation skills in ENGLISH. Did I mention that +/- everyone only speaks FRENCH? No? C’est vrai. (look it up)

The afternoon of the “relaxation” day was when I sat at the hotel bar and lost my shit. And guess what? I had yet to find an apartment……. (I’m going to leave you with the mental image of me chugging Ivorian beer and traumatizing both Tim and the bartender).

Disclaimer: If you think I have even a slightly negative opinion of this place or its people, I absolutely do not. The people are among the most kind and generous I have met, and the place—well, it’s developing. For Côte d’Ivoire, having people who speak English is one of the key factors that can make a place like this more appealing to tourists. Tourists = $

That’s why I’m here.

To be continued…………..