11/15/2003  Saturday – Lisbon, Portugal 

After a day of touring the city of Lisbon including a fine seafood dinner at a very nice restaurant I headed back to the airport to board my flight to Sal, in the Cape Verdes Islands.   At the terminal I converted my remaining Euros to Escudos the currency of Cape Verdes—the exchange rate was about 100 Escudos to the Euro—and lit out for the TAP Air terminal.  The check-in counter was an impressive hundred foot long affair with 15 to 20 check-in stations, but was staffed with only one person.  The line was already about 50 people deep consisting mostly of black islanders heading home.  Their check-in luggage was mostly large (very large) cardboard boxes tied with clothes line.  It was obvious that security was not going to be a problem here.  No need to worry whether or not my heavily laden bags would get through to Sal.  Nobody was checking anything that was going on our plane.  I met a Frenchman who was heading to Sal to meet up with a boat that was sailing to Martinique.  He told me this was an annual “all guys” trip that he did every year with his friend who owned the 45 foot sailboat on which he would crew.  It reminded me of my annual trip in August, albeit we only go across Lake Michigan. 

From the check-in counter we meandered to our assigned gate and were crowded into a large room which sported a counter with two airline employees guarding the one door out to three waiting buses.  These employees were checking boarding passes and passports, but did not do so in any organized fashion.  In the US we would have been called up by row number.  Not so here.  First come -- first serve.  It was dark out as we boarded the buses.  As my bus approached the plane, I noticed that there were boarding stairs positioned at the front door of the Airbus 340 as well as the rear door.  I was assigned to seat 5F in the fifth row, up in the front of the plane, but the front stairs were not being used.  Our bus, the second to arrive, was let out at the rear stairs and we got in line with those who had just gotten off the first bus and were entering the rear door of the plane.  I just figured we would all just make our way to our seats from the rear of the plane. 

As I got halfway up the stairs, a point of no return mind you, I looked forward to see the third bus disembarking its load of passengers to the front stairs.  Now it hit me!  I would have to make my way from the very back of the plane to the front while many folks going up those front stairs probably would have to get to the rear of the plane from the front.  It was unbelievable!  Imagine a large airliner with about 300 passengers loaded down with carry-on luggage, and in this case, large cardboard boxes and baskets, trying to pass by each other in a narrow aisle.  It took forty-five minutes to get the seating sorted out on that plane.  It was complete chaos.  Halfway up the aisle, I slipped into the recess created at the emergency exit and found a stewardess hiding there.  I asked her if they ever boarded the plane by row number to avoid this kind of confusion.  She gave me a very quizzical look and replied, “Hey, that is a good idea!”  And she was serious.   

After that it was a non-eventful flight and we touched down on the island of Sal on schedule.  The airport is located in Sal’s largest city, Espargos, in the middle of the island.  Much to my surprise, everything I had checked in arrived with me—I felt great!  After securing my two large suitcases I found a cabbie willing to take me to the port city of Palmeira for 500 Escudos—that’s roughly five US dollars.  Bogie had told me I should be able to get from Sal to Palmeira by cab for 300 Escudos but 1:00am in the morning I decided not to negotiate to hard.  It appeared there were more passengers than cabs, and I was not about to lose mine. 

Sal is a barrier island.  Some have likened it to Moon Base #4 in a bad sci-fi movie.  The terrain is unreal, nothing like I have ever seen in my life.  The cab driver headed out of the airport for about two miles on paved road until we reached a Shell gas station.  There he made a hard left and sped through a tarmac parking lot of another gas station and onto a dark back road.  There were no lights on this road.  The paving, what there was of it, on this road was terrible.  In fact we were off on the shoulders of this so-called road as much as we were on it because of the ruts and pot holes.  If I did not know better I would have thought he was taking off to a deserted godforsaken spot to rob me.  But he did get me to the port town of Palmeira.  I told him to take me to “the dock.”   That is where I was to meet Bogie.  He drove me right up to the gates of city’s commercial dock.  Now Palmeira is not that big a town.  And the harbor is rather small, maybe a half mile across.  I figured no matter where he dropped me off, I would be able to find Bogie easily. 

The locked gate should have been a hint that I was at the wrong rendezvous point. 

A young uniformed Cape Verdian appeared out of his guard shack and unlocked the gate.  He spoke no English. I spoke no Portuguese.  I whipped out my handy dandy Portuguese to English phrase book and we found a way to communicate.  There were about 15 sailboats and another 10 or so fishing boats at anchor in the harbor.  A large commercial fishing boat was tied up to the concrete pier where I was.  By now it was about two o’clock in the morning and very dark, and other than the hum of the idling diesel on the fishing boat, very quiet.  My new friend showed me where sailboat dinghies might come up to this dock so I positioned my bags there and proceeded to change into more comfortable clothes and to transfer all my belongings from the rigid suitcases to large duffle bags.  I had planned this when I packed.  I knew that suitcases would not stow well on a sailboat, but lugging 100 pound duffle bags around an airport was out of the question.  I found the solution by packing everything into two old giant suitcases that I could give away on the islands.  Included in the suitcases were three duffle bags into which I could transfer my stuff.  While I was unpacking the guard was observing and noticed my plethora of tee shirts.  He practically begged me for one.  I figured a tee shirt might buy some extra security for my stuff as I waited for Bogie.  I gave him one and loved it!   I also gave him one of the empty suitcases. 

I stayed up all night waiting for Bogie.  I walked out onto the pier and yelled out into the harbor.  No Bogie.  I walked around the dock area and noted the lumber that had been unloaded.  Apparently most building materials had to be shipped in to this island as it supported no indigenous trees capable of supplying lumber. 

Finally the sun came up.  Still no Bogie, but now I could see around the whole shore of the harbor.  What I noticed was that the dinghy dock for the sailors was about a quarter mile to my left.  And on that dock was a fellow with a yellow cap—it was Bogie.  Though I could not make out the features of his face, I knew it was him.  I yelled to him but he could not hear me.  I had my camera’s and computer in my back pack.  The duffels were too heavy to carry that far.  I left them on the dock behind the gates and took off into the town to find my way to that dock.  We shook hands at 8:00am that morning.   

I had been waiting all night in the wrong spot.  And Bogie had been waiting at the dinghy dock all night only a quarter mile away.  United at last, we motored over to the commercial dock in his dinghy and loaded up my duffel bags and the remaining empty suitcase.  We headed over to Nirvana to begin our adventure.