I keep telling the taxi drivers that no I do not want a ride. I eventually go outside to make sure no one is waiting for me out there. No. No one. I have a number to call, but don't want to give an appearance that I'm impatient for having waited a while. I go back in and sit down, then decide to buy a snack. As I am exchanging money my colleague, who is coming to pick me up walks in with a policeman and another local. A band-aid is on his arm and the three men are all walking rather quickly towards me and discussing something, seemingly important, in the local language. In a few brief words I am greeted and informed the car is in a ditch and my colleague needs to take cash out of the ATM machine before we leave.
We walk out with my cart of luggage and an entourage of locals offering their assistance as we choose our driver and negotiate the price. I don't even know the numbers in the local currency to try to follow the conversations. After we take off my colleague tells me he has to arrange for his car to be towed and I will head to a hotel to meet his wife. He spells out the name of the hotel and says not to get out unless I'm sure I am at the right place.
The highway is surprisingly nice with sound barriers and lights. I realize I am use to the dimly lit highways in West Africa with people walking along the side and taxis discombobulated with cracked wind shields and broken doors. The taxi is not new by any standard, but in tact. We drive by walled subdivisions which look like upper-middle class gated communities in the US - must be oil money. As we make our way in the city the buildings are grey and unattractive, but not dilapidated or half built. The taxi driver does not know exactly where he is going and stops for directions. We pass along a park lined with benches and trees and turn around a couple of times and stop at the hotel. The right one. Good. The plan was for me to stay with my colleagues, but I wasn't sure if things had changed.
While the driver is helping me out with my luggage into the hotel, the wife of my colleague steps out to meet me. We let the driver leave - of course he asks her for more than the agreed upon price - and then we pick up my four bags and walk through the ally and up two flights of stairs to their apartment. An hour or two later my colleague comes back having towed his car, caught a bus at 2 a.m. and walked home. Welcome to a far away place.