Here we go! Well, here I go. Around 4 months away exploring South East Asia, immersing myself in all it has to offer, embracing the culture of no less than 8 countries, getting my beard dreadlocked, taking up yoga, creating memories, and catching up with some friends and family along the way. My loose itinerary will take in the UAE, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Australia, and I’ll be providing notes every few days as my trip progresses.
Now, before you read on, these will be very candid updates. For those know me, I’ll be my typical-self. For those that don’t, I’ll give you the good, the bad, the ugly, and won’t hold much back, even at the detriment to my own facade.
So, let’s kick off with my first day of travel. A pitstop in Abu Dhabi.
I foresee a fair few train journeys in my travels ahead, and leg one was to start this way from Strood to Abbey Wood, then onto Heathrow T4. I’ll have the opportunity to compare, likely favourably, the efficiency and cost of trains compared to the UK as my trip progresses, but you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that what was expected to be a relatively smooth journey felt more like enduring a constant Chinese burn – fraught with discomfort and frustration. Rather than paying for a taxi, which would have saved me some time and a little frustration, I opted for what seemed like a straightforward route into T4 at Heathrow. National Rail informed me that I’d be there in under 2 hours with just 1 moderately quick change. I won’t delve into the price of trains at the minute, or their reliability issues, but what should have been a 1 hour 50 minute journey turned into over 2 and a half hours, which wouldn’t have been too bad had I managed to catch up on some sleep, or even had the ability to free my arms to read the Metro I was carrying around for what seemed like no reason. Almost 50 quid for an uncomfortable journey hampered and delayed due to being booted off a train twice, really isn’t my idea of a good service. Anyhow, I said I wouldn’t mention price or reliability issues.
I eventually made it to T4 after being sandwiched in the armpit of other travellers for a portion of the tube ride. I had given myself plenty of time with the flight not being until 7:20pm, so the stress that I wore quite vividly over my screwed up face wasn’t really warranted. I checked my bag and danced towards security. Now, again, I don’t want this to read like a diary of negative experiences, but the ‘irritate Sam’ Gods really seemed to be conspiring against me at this point. Deep breath. Inept staff had us in a queue where I can only assume there was a fault with the conveyer as we didn’t move for some time, glumly looking on in unison to the other areas of security that seemed somewhat manic, but were at least moving. I requested an escape route to another conveyer, subtly grabbing the attention of the gatekeeping guard that orchestrated where people were sent. What power. He obliged and I pushed towards the line furthest away as that seemed the most inviting. Now, this line was at least moving, albeit slowly, though I wasn’t quite sure if I had joined the queue reserved for travel virgins. I can’t fathom how people struggle so much with separating items, loading them into a tray and then proceeding. I envy the patience of the staff there, even the inept ones, I really do. I loaded my items up and proceeded to the collection point to be greeted by another pet peeve of mine: not putting the tray away once you’ve taken your luggage. Like, can you not see that you cause a logjam? I picked up the empty trays of others and deposited them, making sure people were aware of my anger through more aggressive facial expressions and the muttering under my breath. Right, no more stress or moaning. Honestly.
I’m not usually one for lounges; I don’t fly in business or first class and I’m usually quite content squeezing into a Wetherspoons for a full English and a Guinness at whatever time in the day I’m flying. It was only when I learnt that I could access lounges for 20GBP via my Revolut account that I thought it was worth checking one out. Unlimited food, soft and alcoholic drinks, actual seating in a relaxed environment, a place to charge my devices, somewhere to check that I have my passport for the 40th time that hour, hell a shower if I fancied. Why not, eh?
Opting for the Pearl lounge, I made my way to Gate 11 where I understood it to be located, before realising it was Gate 1. Again, I had time to get lost a little so I didn’t mind. As I trotted by Louis Vuitton, Bulgari, Saint Laurent, et al, my mind wandered back to a time earlier in the day on the platform of Strood train station when an unassuming woman asked if I was a fisherman. I wasn’t carrying fishing rods or a box of maggots. Maybe it was the beard, or the flannel shirt? With this in mind, and the fact that Richard Gere hadn’t provided me a fistful of cash, I avoided any potential Pretty Woman embarrassments by ignoring the high-end boutiques.
The setting was fine in the lounge, the food fine, the drink fine. Everything was okay. Not amazing, not underwhelming. My one criticism would have been that the plates were rather small and I hadn’t brought an Alan Partridge-sized plate in my hand luggage to overindulge. Oh, and there were a few too many people. I mean, it wasn’t as bad as outside the lounge where people inexplicaby spread themselves across a few seats, but not being the biggest fan of crowds, two people besides myself may have been too many.
After a bit of pasta, some curry, a couple of beers and some water, my allotted 2 hours were up and it was time to head to my gate and prepare for boarding. To say I dislike flying is an understatement. I’m able to do it, but I find myself constantly playing through disaster scenarios in my head. The plane is going to blow up in 10 seconds. 10, 9, 8… Ah, I survived. The plane will blow up if I hear a certain word on my little TV… Ah, I survived. Trying to sleep, however tired, is difficult with so much going on, and the slightest bit of turbulence just intensifies the fear of impending doom. As I’d had a couple of beers, I was a little more relaxed about my inevitable death as a made my way down the corrdior and onto vast plane.
Without delving too much into the flight, I survived. As with the lounge, the flight was mediocre. Minimal turbulence, which is a plus, but aside from drifting off for perhaps 5 minutes, I had very little rest. Maybe I would have slept a little longer had I not been watching Nightmare on Elm Street. When you’re drifting off and you have people being murdered in their dreams, screaming, it doesn’t really make for the calmest of mental safehouses to doze off in. I had a beer, which was warm, ate a pleasant lamb dish, and was also blessed with the fortune of having the middle 4 seats to myself so I didn’t have to sit with my tray down awaiting rubbish to be collected, I could just push it to the adjoining tray and then sit at an angle to stretch my legs. Later, someone did come and sit on my row, starting in one seat and then finishing with his head rather close to my skewed position, but he was able to sleep, I wasn’t.
The sun was climbing through the horizon as we approached Abu Dhabi. Shattered, I checked to see if I had my passport for the 20th time that hour (I was getting confident it hadn’t learnt how to open a zip and crawl out yet), and then appreciated the soft landing. I love landing. It’s the only part of flying that I actually appreciate, even if it isn’t that comfortable on occasion.
Passport control was straightforward with the UAE collecting my fingerprints and claiming the first stamp on my new passport. The efficiency of staff here also meant my bag was waiting at the carousel after emerging. Things were looking up, so, sensing doom, I anticipated approximately 500 people trying to get me into a heavily inflated taxi as I emerged into arrivals, as with what happened in Saudi Arabia last year. It didn’t happen. 1 guy asked, I declined. I then headed towards a tradition of mine, the one where I sit in the toilet at arrivals and gather my thoughts. I transferred money into my UAE bank account, withdrew some cash, walked out to the organised taxi rank and got into a cab. It was metered so I was happy.
As the taxi pulled away from the airport, it was around 7am. Devoid of sleep and rather hot, it was time to head to my hotel, throw my bags down and stay awake until 2pm when I could check-in.