My morning began with a shower in the basement of the al-Haramain hotel. There are three public showers and luckily I was the only person there at the time. My only company was the mosquitoes buzzing around during my shower. The hotel offers the standard breakfast of flat bread, apricot preserves, hummus, green and black olives, and a hard-boiled egg, which we take in the courtyard. It seems that 8 a.m. is too early for the rest of the hotel’s guests as they only slowly begin to move by the time we finish our breakfast.
After breakfast we stop by the new hotel (Al-Zafiran) to drop off our bags and check-in to our new rooms. The morning clerk is just as confused as the other clerk as to why we would think to rent a room at a hotel. But, they have three rooms grouped together in one hallway, so we drop our things and head to the museum to say hello to the staff and make our arrangements for our work. I can’t say too much about the meetings at the museum for fear of giving the wrong impression. We met most of the people who we needed to meet, but were essentially “stood-up” by others. We can understand the general distraction here because today seems like a national holiday, and the museum is a-buzz with activity.
Lunch at al-Shamiat. And who can complain? It’s cool and the food is good. The plat du jour is rice with chicken served with a side of plain white yoghurt which goes very well when mixed together.
The task of the afternoon is to go to the airport and retrieve our luggage, if it’s there. We approach the hotel clerk to collect our passports—they like to hold them for at least a day while they copy down names and information for their records. The clerk is insistent that he cannot yet return the passports. He suggests that if anyone at the airport needs to reference the passports, then they can call the hotel. He gives us the information card for the hotel. R&C and I head off to the bus station to take the afternoon bus to the airport. It’s a short walk from our new hotel. While waiting on the curb outside the ticket office in the bus station we nearly become engulfed in some sort of argument among a group of 10 or 15 men. Some sort of injustice had been perceived between two groups of men working at the bus station and voices were raised. We slowly crept away from the growing argument. Cooler heads prevailed and the two primary disputants were led in separate directions.
At the airport, the lost and found window instructs Robert to go to the security office where they will bring him around to the luggage. Carole and I must wait in the airport’s main lobby. Robert disappears into the security office only to return in five minutes without the bags. It seems that the security office is standing firm that without passports, one cannot retrieve one’s luggage. They suggest coming back tomorrow. We opt instead to hire a taxi for a three-way trip: (1) airport to hotel to get the passports, (2) hotel to airport to get the bags, and (3) airport back to hotel. We’re able to find a taxi who will make the trip for 1500 pounds, about $30. When we return to the hotel there is a different clerk, one who we are more easily able to sway into returning our passports briefly. Back at the airport R&C head in to try again with the security office while I hold the taxi. In no time at all they are back with all of our missing bags. It turns out the security office only needed to see Robert’s passport, as he was the contact person on the missing luggage report. All is well. Proper showers are taken. Clean clothes are donned
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