The airport with the blue tile
I liked when I went to Africa, and we stopped in Lagos Nigeria. The fact that we were able to step off the plane, walk down some stairs onto the tarmac and smell the air upon landing made me happier than a pig in shit. I was immediately aware I was in the midst of a sirocco; a hot, humid warm wind. I fell in love with Africa, again, because I was born there and we had lived in Algiers growing up. I didn’t care how ugly the airport looked; I was just happy that my feet were touching the ground. I could have dropped to my knees and kissed the floor. Oh, how I love Africa!