Days 1 and 2: The Journey to Male'

The trip did not start well. I finished packing, which took the form of arranging the contents of various piles of stuff on the living room floor into the spaces afforded by a largish suitacse and small rucsack. I left the house at 2pm, giving plenty of time to get to the station for the 15:10 train to Manchester airport. I waited at the bus stop for 20 minutes, thinking it slightly odd that no bus had gone past, when a family walking by informed me there was a bus strike. Brief panic set in and I rushed back to the house, could get hold of a taxi and decided to drive into town and leave the car at the office. I got about a quarter of a mile and thought how much better ot would be if I dropped the spare keys off with a friend so she could collect it the next day and park it outside her house. So I turned round. Finally setting off again I got to the station with time to spare to meet the other two. The train journey, check in and take-off were uneventful. After an evening meal and watching the remake of Pelham 123, I set about catching up on some sleep.


I woke to find a clear night sky and the lights of villages below, including some very large bright red ones. The in-flight information screen showed we were crossing Iraq, to the east of Baghdad. As we flew more or less directly over one of the red lights I could see it flickering and realised they were flames, the burn off of unwanted natural gas from the oil wells. Also, alternately red and white sheets of lightening travelled between and along cloud layers in the far distance, over towards the Zagros Mountains of Iran. At least I hoped it was lightening and not a resumption of large scale military activity.
 As we flew south, the sky above us cleared more and I could see stars and one especially bright one, almost certainly not a star but Venus, appearing balanced just above the port wing. For a while I had thought it was a light on the wing until we banked slightly and it momentarilly parted company with the leading edge. The colour of the sky was starting to change with the glow of sunrise and from the east round to the south were bands of light going from black at ground level to crimson to orange, light blue, dark blue and finally back to the black of the night sky. The aircraft wing was silhoutteted running parallel to these bands with Venus poised just above it and other points of light, possibly the big dipper but standing on it's handle, punctering the jet black of the remaining night. There was a sudden burst of noise from the aircraft engines and we turned more or less due south to fly parallel to the River Tigres, and passed over the lights of Faw, where this great and historical river flows into the Arabian Gulf.

Dubai Airport Passenger Terminal











We landed at Dubai, bouncing somewhat erratically along the runway as the pilot over-corrected and re-corrected for the cross wind. I've always felt that the only dangerous bits of flying were at take-off and landing, notwithstanding a bird strike or other mid-air collison, but on balance I dislike the process of reconnecting with the ground the most.


Dubai airport is stunning in size and architecture, the main passenger terminal comprising a massive oval tube, presumably symbolic of an aircraft wing, stretching for a good quarter of a mile, if not twice that distance. Inside, maps showing the layout of the shopping and eating areas show indicate the time in minutes it will take from the observers current position to various places: 2, 5, 10.  Probably 20 to 25 minutes end-to-end.

Duty free coffee pots.  Well I do drink a lot of coffee!







We stopped at a Costa Coffee for a drink and snack and then perused the duty free for an hour, deciding that the prices for most of the electronic goods, cds , dvds etc, were the same as back home and buying nothing, which is my idea of a succesful outcome to that sort of shopping trip.


The take-off for the second leg of the flight to Male' was uneventful. We dozed, we ate, we dozed some more. The landing at Hulhule (airport island) was even more erratic, not helped by watching the view from the forward camera on the TV screen where our high speed deviations from the line running down the centre of the runway were only too apparant. Getting though Customs took over an hour, with an additional form to complete relating to the risk of swine flu, which on Male', one of the most densley populated regions of the plannet having 170,000 people living together in and area of two square kilometers, would be hard to control, if not catastophic.

Male' Airport












We emerged from the airport to see no sign of anyone to meet us and after failing to make contact with unicef by phone or to get a wireless internet connection to email from the laptop, I decided we should hop on a Dhoni for the five minute crossing to Male'. The journey cost 1US$ per person and we landed at Pier 10, opposite the old Nashandura Palace hotel where Jim and I had stayed 2 years ago and which was now closed and empty. Our hotel was two minutes walk from the jetty and check in was easy enough, although the rooms were a little disappointing compared with the other place. Tired and sticky from the travel and struggling to get the air-con to work, I wondered how I was going to spend around 18 weeks here in the next 8 months, some of it alone, and I wondered if I had been over-enthusiastic about the project. I eventually got an internet connection sorted out so I could email unicef and had started to unpack when the phone rang. It was Naeem from unicef. He was under the impression we were ok with making our own way from the airport and had phoned the hotel probably minutes before we arrived. It was a pity they didn't think to tell us.


We showered and met up at 7pm for dinner, which proved a challenge to stay awake over. By eight I was in bed and dozing but this was intermittent as there was a traditional Boda Beru (literally big drum) band playing across the street. Now those of you who know me will know that I am quite passionate about hand drumming, so the steady pounding bass lines, the kunk-e-tunk so familar across West Africa, where it's known as DunDunBa, were not unpleasant. Indeed on any other night I would have been across the road in the audiance but on this particular night, after probably less than eight hours sleep in the last forty-eight, it was not so welcome.

Eventually, less tired, I decided to open the window to hear the music more clearly and that was when I felt for the first time that day that I was glad to be back. The smell of the warm, moist night sea air, the beacon across the water on Hulhulmale, airport island, the sounds of the dhonis moving in and out of pier 10, the lights on the water, the 100cc motorbikes racing round the ring road of the long and unpronouncible name and the cooler night breeze. Yes, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.








View from the room at the Mookai Hotel, Male'







And then a western style guitar band struck up and the mood was lost, so I did the the only English thing possible and went to boil the kettle for a cup of tea. Only there were no tea bags in the room's brew kit, only coffee. Oh well, there's always some chilled water in the minibar, except that the minibar wasn't switched on and there were was no water in it, only bottles of warm coke and sprite. I gave up!


Postscript: the band continued accompanied by the screams of girls until 1am, when finally silence fell on Male'.