Not my forte

Weighed down with bedrolls for our field team, I began the journey to Liberia, where I'm working for a month. I took the bus to Heathrow as I recalled the rush hour tube journey when I immigrated back from Cambodia, carrying similar amounts of luggage. I steadfastly refused to change out of my flip flops on that journey. Today I was wearing more suitable footwear.

Elizabeth provided an island of calm amidst the preparations by treating me to a hot chocolate. Preps included hearing that our Liberia office internet service provider burnt down last night, so not sure how that will impact connectivity when I arrive!

I have to overnight in Amsterdam to connect to Monrovia tomorrow, as this was the best deal. Which is fine with me as Elizabeth (half Dutch) and I have been joking that I should stock up on stroopkoeken as field rations for Liberia.

Ronald was the name of the steward on board the small plane that hops from London to Amsterdam. I looked around at suited business travellers and wondered why they were so frantic with their devices and chart-filled documents. Then I remembered I'm also a business traveller, albeit the only one on board in scruffy jeans, t-shirt and puffer jacket. I prefer my business attire.

The vibe in the Netherlands is excellent. The airport has a library from which no one steals books, a piano that invites travellers to showcase their talent and hotel shuttle bus drivers who are polyglots, joking in multiple languages.