Of all my trips to Mogadishu, this was the least eventful. There were dancers like those who received me in Garowe, no running across the terminal like the last time I was there.
That said, however, I took a picture in a restricted street. The guard saw and almost ate me and my phone whole. We, that is, I and my colleagues from Somalia were able to convince him there was no ill intent. We deleted the one picture and I was left to go on with my business. Mental note: no taking photos left and right.
There was an explosion near my hotel. No, I wasn’t hurt.