Friday April 24:
Neuman and Priscilla drove me down to the Muskegon airport for a 5pm flight. Arrived in Detroit for my next flight and had a good fatoush salad at a Mediterranean restaurant in the airport during the 3-hour layover. The second flight took me into Atlanta's Hartsfiled-Jackson airport at about 11pm. I asked the Delta folks as I disembarked whether I needed to pick up my luggage before hopping an international flight, because I wasn't sure if it'd be checked all the way through. The assured me that the luggage was checked all the way through. The airport was very quiet. I assumed that there would be some red-eye flights, but there weren't any. All the airline staff were gone and all the desks vacant. There were just lots of cleaning staff and people stocking vending machines. I had only recieved the first 2 of 3 boarding passes, so I had no idea where I was supposed to go -- where my next flight would take off from. I meandered around, thinking that maybe I should see if I was indeed supposed to pick up my luggage, but found that that would require leaving the airport. So after checking 3 concourses and finding no one but cleaning staff, I laid out on a bench and snoozed as well as I could during the 11-hour layover.
Saturday April 25:
I woke up as the airport started coming to life, and found a Delta desk and found out which gate my flight was to depart from. I was one of the first to board, and watched as the luggage was loaded right outside my window. I didn't see my big, green rolling travel case with the red strap around it. But I thought, "Well, maybe it was one of the first to be loaded, before I got on the plane and I didn't see it. Or maybe it was loaded late last night during my long layover."
The flight was about 4 hours. The pilot announced as we flew near Cape Canaveral, but I was on the wrong side of the plane. There were a number of islands and reefs to be seen as we flew across the Caribbean. We disembarked the plane at Flamingo International Airport on Bonaire, and air was roughly 85 degrees and maybe 85% humidity. After going through customs, I found that I had no luggage. Good thing I packed some essentials, as well as a change of clothes, in my pack. After going through a security checkpoint, I met Brad from Trans World Radio. We had to hang around for a half hour or so as fliers for a departing plane were checked in before I and a lady from my flight could talk to a Delta staffer about our lost luggage. She was not a happy camper. But we found that the luggage, which was mis-routed in Atlanta, was arriving on another flight at 5am the next morning. I was happy about that. The main flights only come down to Bonaire on the weekends, so I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd told me it would be delayed a week.
Brad then took me in his little Suzuki Samurai for a drive around town, showing me what was where. He showed me the house I would be staying in, which had another Suzuki Samurai for me to use for 4 of the 6 weeks that I'm here. He took me to the radio towers and transmitter station on the south side of town, beyond the airport. He took me to the studio on the north side of town, and gave me a tour inside. We also drove all around town while he gave me pointers of what was where, and how to negotiate the town.
Brad is the guy who sets up the programming at the radio station. He did a great job of getting me oriented and acclimated in town. I have to admit that one thing left me a little depressed: There are only 4 people working at the station -- 2 missionaries with their wives, and 2 hired local maintenance guys. Back in the mid-1960's when Trans World Radio built the facilities, there were over 60 missionary families here. Now there are only 2 missionaries. Joe is the station manager who knows the technical side of the broadcasting hardware, and Brad, who does the actual radio programming -- what gets played when. The 2 local guys work maintenance and are born-again believers as well, but are paid.
As part of the tour of town (Kralendijk is the main town on Bonaire), Brad took me through the station. We walked in, and there's a waiting area with seats and coffee tables, and a glassed-in receptionist booth. There are offices and conference rooms. There is a garage complete with a car hoist, because years ago TWR used to maintain its own fleet of cars. There is even a decent woodshop. All of this with only a skeleton crew of 4 guys running it. It was kind of depressing, because I could picture it as having once been a vibrant place, and now it's all quiet. While touring town, Brad pointed to many houses and said, "TWR owns these houses," or "TWR used to own those houses but sold them off." Back in the 1960's, these 60 missionary families were involved in many different functions. Some translated programs into different languages, some read the progams, some worked the recording equipment. Some worked out at the transmitter station, sort of as "DJ's", playing these tapes during the night. (AM travels much farther at night, so the broadcasting is done after the sun goes down.)
Now in the electronic age, however, the programming can all be done elsewhere. The programs are made in the countries that are the target audiences for the programs, and the programs are sent electronically to Bonaire. Brad just downloads the programs, assembles them on the computer, and sets them to run overnight. It's all computerized and automatic. Brad or Joe are only paged when there is 'dead air', and they have to come in and troubleshoot what's going on.
I'm not complaining, because all of this makes sense. It's much more efficient than having a huge missionary staff here. However, arriving here on Bonaire, getting a little 'culture shock', finding there are only 4 people working at this station, and getting the tour of a darkened studio that once was a vibrant place left me a little melancholy.
That night I took the Suzuki Samurai and poked around town. I had lunch at a place called "Unbelievable", because it was close to my house and it advertised good food and 'value', so I gave it a go. I was taken up to the rooftop where the tables were nicely set, and I knew I was going to spend more than I had intended. For $25 I got a nice, thick cross-section of fish, about 8 inches long, grilled Caribbean-style. I knew I was going to have to be a bit more careful with restaurant choices if I didn't want to get myself into financial trouble on this trip.
I can't complain. Most everyone speaks English as a second language, they take U.S. dollars, and they have touristy restaurants. Not a bad place for a first missionary trip. :)
I slept well, with the windows opened, since the overnight lows are only down to about 80 degrees or so. The bed was made for me with a fitted and top sheet -- no need for blankets here, as the lowest temperature ever recorded here was 67 degrees.
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