The first two days.

“Ready to dive into the deep end?”

– spoken by one of our seasoned journalists, well-traveled in Africa but a bit wary of corruption-ridden Nigeria, as we began boarding the plane to Abuja.

We arrived early Tuesday evening. It truly is strange how foreign places always smell so much the same, at least to me: The fumes, the haze/smog, the spiciness that hangs in the air. And how differently the traffic moves, without regard to lanes or horns or oncoming vehicles.

What little I’ve seen so far has come only from the window of a hotel bus, but the roadsides are their own hotbed of activity. From that window I have seen men selling a string of fish by the side of the road; another group of men frying some type of meat on an open fire; vividly dressed women in long tight skirts and matching headwraps walking alongside zooming traffic, somehow floating elegantly above the red dust. Wouldn’t want to be a newspaper hawker here, where young men carry stacks of the Daily Truth and This Day through the winding lanes of cars backed up at each intersection.

Beer and a buffet al fresco in one of the hotels several restaurants Tuesday night. Not many choices for non-meat-eaters (presumably because it’s such an upscale place), but a good sampling of stews and soups and starches – choice of pounded rice, pounded semolina or pounded yam. Other than that, my meals so far have been Luna bars, trail mix and a quick Greek salad at the poolside café.

Internet access is available. $8 an hour or $24 for 24 hours (consecutive, not simply hours used) to access it in the room. Or about $4 for every 10 minutes on a slooowwww connection in the “business center.” (And water is $2 for a small bottle; don’t worry, Mom – I’m not so cheap that I’ll drink out of the tap.)

Other than Internet and water woes, this is one of the fancier hotels I’ve ever stayed in. (Among other things, my first room with a bidet!) Several restaurants, shops, nightclubs, a karaoke bar where June threatens to take us this evening.

But don’t expect a travelblogue; so far we have seen that main road between our hotel and various meeting venues. Things may change tomorrow morning, when we visit a girls’ school outside the city limits.

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“Learn to embrace paradox. In Nigeria, everything is possible and impossible.”

– Atim George, public affairs officer, U.S. Embassy in Abuja

Our itinerary is packed full of hard-to-get, high-level meetings. They are opportunities a journalist from a small Midwestern daily could never snag on her own; most of the seasoned journalists I’m with would face difficulty arranging such coups on their own. Of course, that packed schedule means less time for blogging. Or transcribing notes. Or reading up for the next day. Or sleeping.

Today started with a formal visit to the U.S. embassy here in Abuja. John Campbell, the ambassador, was unusually open for a diplomat – which, of course, is why the discussion was off the record. It’s instructive to watch the seasoned journalists scamper to discuss the terms of what “off the record” means; his representative will get back to us on whether we can attribute specific quotes to “a senior Western diplomat.”

In the afternoon we had a mesmerizing, if meandering, session with Judy Asuni, an aid worker who’s tight with militants and villagers in the oil delta, where the kidnappings and violence are taking place. She was accompanied by Manager Seigha, a representative of the Ijaw (the delta’s predominant tribe) militants. It’s nearly impossible for journalists to travel into the delta region right now, so to have them travel to meet with us was quite special. Mr. Seigha held court on the region’s complaints – namely, that the oil companies and the government (federal and states) make so much money (virtually Nigeria’s only economic focus now) on pumping crude out of their land, and somehow none of that money trickles back down for development or schools or even basic sanitation/health issues. It’s such a vast and complicated problem that I can’t do it justice here; yet it also can be simply boiled down to what is taken out vs. what is not being put back in.

(You all may know more about the most recent kidnappings, by the way. The local newspapers do not give them much coverage. Some, but not much. I know one today (or yesterday) was an American. The entire boat of Filipinos is quite unusual. And that they've held the Italian/Lebanese group for six weeks is even more unusual; I met a local representative of the Vatican tonight, and they are quite worried.)

By the end of the afternoon I was ready for bed. Instead, we were guests of honor at the ambassador’s (unbelievably lush – gold-plated bathroom fixtures!) residence, with local politicians, journalists and other leaders. I had fascinating conversations with two foreign service officers working in the embassy. One encouraged me to take the exam, saying many FSOs are “accidental,” having taken the test on a lark and realizing just how well qualified they were. I’d never thought of it before. The average age of a new FSO these days is 32, so I would be far from an old fogey.

Tomorrow is another busy day. Most important, we meet with the current president, Olusegun Obasanjo, who has blocked from running for a third term but allegedly is plotting to continue running things from behind the curtain if “his” candidate wins in April. He has not been willing to speak with many Western journalists; rampant accusations of corruption in his government is the reason behind him being blocked from running again.

In the evening, we have dinner at the homes of “ordinary” Nigerians. I think we’re all eager for opportunities to see the country as its citizens experience it. Stephanie has spotted a traditional market nearby; hope we have a chance to visit.

I just haven’t the brain power or time to do justice to everything I’m learning. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have photos worthy of sharing. I’m disappointed that the descriptions so far are inadequate to convey what I’m seeing and learning.