To be honest, I kind of miss the uncertainty and trembling windows of Uzbekistan airlines. The thrill of not knowing if the plane would land safely or crash in some deserted highlands, or a potential highjacking by some Russian militia is absolutely amazing. I don't know how many of you got the treasured opportunity to fly Aeroflot, Turkmen, Uzbek or Kazakh (add 'istan' at the end of every word) airlines, but I tell you it's worth every penny. In my good old student days when the majority of my cash used to go towards paying for rounds of 20 aftershocks or triple vodkas, my worst time financially used to be closer to the summer break. The 'dry days' during the exams definitely helped and I used to somehow save enough money for booking the luxurious Aeroflot back home. In reality, I always enjoyed the 12 hr stopovers at Moscow and the generous applause pilots used to get when the plane landed. No kidding...I swear the passengers used to clap and celebrate the safe landing - scary but amusing!! I mean give me a break...where else in the whole wide world would you find fellow passengers, drunk and happy, celebrating the landing as if 90% of them weren't too sure if the plane would touch the ground in one piece. So basically in the paltry 320 quid you pay for the ticket, you get so so many extras...free entertainment from fellow passengers...slutty air hostesses...reduced cabin pressure to give you the real feel of flying...crackling windows to act as lullaby...the half cooked lamb you always wanted to try...and if it's a clear day and you're lucky, you might just find anti-U2 missiles from the cold war era flying around in the sky. I mean the whole package is an experience, which is worth a try. Few shots of pure Russian vodka prior to the flight would be nice though.
Anyway, Emirates EK308 landed at exact 7:15am to a hot but bearable morning in Dubai. For a second, I wished I were in the cool surroundings of peak distt...but just for a sec! The airport looked fantastic and during the flight I had done enough mock interviews with my conscience to walk straight to the 'Visa on arrival' counter, confidently! This Indian ahead in the queue comes back from the counter grumbling something to himself. In hope of some useful update and advice, I stopped him mid-way. "Kaisa raha sir?", I said anxiously. "Yaar she’s a bloody bitch, she didn't even listen to me. Koi faayda nahin hai, faaltu ka stopover kar liya maine", he complained back. Whatttt??? I mean after his case and my past history with visas, I didn't stand a chance in hell. I was losing hope fast but with the amount of relevant documentation with me this time, I somehow knew that I wouldn't be going home on the next flight atleast. Nisha had already booked a hotel in Dubai prior to my visit and the best part was that her invitation letter looked pretty much flawless. I went to the counter, got my visa coupon after answering few simple queries, got the passport stamped at immigration and rushed to claim my baggage before anybody could change their mind about my visa approval. After waiting for the hotel pickup for half an hour and few calls to Nisha, the driver finally appeared. "Very sorry sir, had to drop few Iranian guests at the departures. Came straight to you from there", he said catching his breath. "No problem at all, though I was about to take a taxi soon. So where are you from?", I tried to start up a conversation as I opened the driver's door. "Haha...madam told me that you live in London, sir it's the left-hand drive here though. Anyway my name is Afzal sir, I am Sri Lankan but have been working in Dubai for the past few years". His breath was back to normal now as he drove out of the parking barriers. "Yeah, it’s a bit confusing. Anyway where do people generally go out for partying in this city? I'm also very hungry right now. Any good eating places open on the way?", I enquired innocently. "Sir hotel will be serving breakfast, but other shops will be closed right now. You don't fast during Ramadan?", he replied. Suddenly I remembered how Asanthi used to strictly warn me about no food or drinks during this month. Fuck, I've done a blunder! If the first thing I do after landing in Dubai during Ramadan is asking a muslim about nightlife and food, then I wouldn't call it a perfect start to the trip. "No, I don't. Anyway it's ok, I am sure the hotel breakfast would be good enough", I tried to correct myself followed by a long silence which only ended after we reached the hotel doors. Due to some renovation going on at her house, even Nisha was staying in the same hotel. Ignoring the fact that she had just flown from Singapore the night before, I decided to give her a quick call. "Morning monsterrrr, I am checking in downstairs. Get your ass down here fast!", I shouted in excitement. 'Monster' was the name by which we used to call each other in Sheffield, owing to our appetite for food. Just speaking to her brought back all the good memories of Sheffield and I stood there smiling like a crazy guy.
Let me tell you more about Nisha - she is originally from Bombay and did her first degree in Sheffield. Being one of the 6 undergraduate Indians (Vicky, Rohit, Nisha, Swati, Jemika and Me) in our 1st year, it wasn't hard to hear about each other. In those days all the Indians used to hang out together due to small numbers, unlike today when you find an Indian in every corner of Sheffield. Thanks to her extravagant shopping habits and Rohit's hangovers every morning, both of them didn't bother to go for lectures and thus didn't meet each other much even though they were in the same class. It was only when Swati left Sheffield due to homesickness that she came to know us better. There was no looking back after that and Vicky, Rohit, Nisha and I used to hang out together all the time. Our day used to start at 2pm with a panini at Varsity and a pitcher of ice-water to tackle last night's hangovers. That comfy couch was the place where our plans for the rest of the day were made. Cinemas were running out of new movies just like the bars had run out of new drinks to try, Vicky had made sure that we were banned from pretty much every Indian restaurant in town while Rohit had ensured the same with most of the happening nightclubs. Regardless we always found a way around it...always found something, which we could enjoy and Varsity provided the perfect setting for chalking out the day's schedule. "What's the crack guys?", as Rohit always said in his Moradabadi-American accent.
As I stood there feeling nostalgic, suddenly Nisha appeared out of the lift. Looking a bit heavier than before, the first thing she said after exchanging greetings was, "Monster the breakfast shuts soon, so hurry up". "Atleast gimme 15 mins, I'll take a quick shower and get myself settled in the room.", I laughed back. 15 mins had become 25 mins soon and on my advice, Nisha went downstairs before me to book a table. As I arrived in the dining hall, I was baffled. The place looked pretty much like a secret German bunker during WWII. "I'm over here!! It's the sad Ramadan period dude!", Nisha tried to get my attention as she noticed me looking at the shut curtains and windows in awe. I was soon updated that nobody in UAE was allowed to eat or even drink water in public during Ramadan, otherwise a hefty fine or arrest were the potential punishments. I looked up and told Nisha in a low voice, "This is going to be a very interesting holiday I tell you". "Haha...It will get better monster. Now eat quickly, you have a long interesting day ahead of you". We both laughed and religiously got back to our fresh pancakes.
Anyway, Emirates EK308 landed at exact 7:15am to a hot but bearable morning in Dubai. For a second, I wished I were in the cool surroundings of peak distt...but just for a sec! The airport looked fantastic and during the flight I had done enough mock interviews with my conscience to walk straight to the 'Visa on arrival' counter, confidently! This Indian ahead in the queue comes back from the counter grumbling something to himself. In hope of some useful update and advice, I stopped him mid-way. "Kaisa raha sir?", I said anxiously. "Yaar she’s a bloody bitch, she didn't even listen to me. Koi faayda nahin hai, faaltu ka stopover kar liya maine", he complained back. Whatttt??? I mean after his case and my past history with visas, I didn't stand a chance in hell. I was losing hope fast but with the amount of relevant documentation with me this time, I somehow knew that I wouldn't be going home on the next flight atleast. Nisha had already booked a hotel in Dubai prior to my visit and the best part was that her invitation letter looked pretty much flawless. I went to the counter, got my visa coupon after answering few simple queries, got the passport stamped at immigration and rushed to claim my baggage before anybody could change their mind about my visa approval. After waiting for the hotel pickup for half an hour and few calls to Nisha, the driver finally appeared. "Very sorry sir, had to drop few Iranian guests at the departures. Came straight to you from there", he said catching his breath. "No problem at all, though I was about to take a taxi soon. So where are you from?", I tried to start up a conversation as I opened the driver's door. "Haha...madam told me that you live in London, sir it's the left-hand drive here though. Anyway my name is Afzal sir, I am Sri Lankan but have been working in Dubai for the past few years". His breath was back to normal now as he drove out of the parking barriers. "Yeah, it’s a bit confusing. Anyway where do people generally go out for partying in this city? I'm also very hungry right now. Any good eating places open on the way?", I enquired innocently. "Sir hotel will be serving breakfast, but other shops will be closed right now. You don't fast during Ramadan?", he replied. Suddenly I remembered how Asanthi used to strictly warn me about no food or drinks during this month. Fuck, I've done a blunder! If the first thing I do after landing in Dubai during Ramadan is asking a muslim about nightlife and food, then I wouldn't call it a perfect start to the trip. "No, I don't. Anyway it's ok, I am sure the hotel breakfast would be good enough", I tried to correct myself followed by a long silence which only ended after we reached the hotel doors. Due to some renovation going on at her house, even Nisha was staying in the same hotel. Ignoring the fact that she had just flown from Singapore the night before, I decided to give her a quick call. "Morning monsterrrr, I am checking in downstairs. Get your ass down here fast!", I shouted in excitement. 'Monster' was the name by which we used to call each other in Sheffield, owing to our appetite for food. Just speaking to her brought back all the good memories of Sheffield and I stood there smiling like a crazy guy.
Let me tell you more about Nisha - she is originally from Bombay and did her first degree in Sheffield. Being one of the 6 undergraduate Indians (Vicky, Rohit, Nisha, Swati, Jemika and Me) in our 1st year, it wasn't hard to hear about each other. In those days all the Indians used to hang out together due to small numbers, unlike today when you find an Indian in every corner of Sheffield. Thanks to her extravagant shopping habits and Rohit's hangovers every morning, both of them didn't bother to go for lectures and thus didn't meet each other much even though they were in the same class. It was only when Swati left Sheffield due to homesickness that she came to know us better. There was no looking back after that and Vicky, Rohit, Nisha and I used to hang out together all the time. Our day used to start at 2pm with a panini at Varsity and a pitcher of ice-water to tackle last night's hangovers. That comfy couch was the place where our plans for the rest of the day were made. Cinemas were running out of new movies just like the bars had run out of new drinks to try, Vicky had made sure that we were banned from pretty much every Indian restaurant in town while Rohit had ensured the same with most of the happening nightclubs. Regardless we always found a way around it...always found something, which we could enjoy and Varsity provided the perfect setting for chalking out the day's schedule. "What's the crack guys?", as Rohit always said in his Moradabadi-American accent.
As I stood there feeling nostalgic, suddenly Nisha appeared out of the lift. Looking a bit heavier than before, the first thing she said after exchanging greetings was, "Monster the breakfast shuts soon, so hurry up". "Atleast gimme 15 mins, I'll take a quick shower and get myself settled in the room.", I laughed back. 15 mins had become 25 mins soon and on my advice, Nisha went downstairs before me to book a table. As I arrived in the dining hall, I was baffled. The place looked pretty much like a secret German bunker during WWII. "I'm over here!! It's the sad Ramadan period dude!", Nisha tried to get my attention as she noticed me looking at the shut curtains and windows in awe. I was soon updated that nobody in UAE was allowed to eat or even drink water in public during Ramadan, otherwise a hefty fine or arrest were the potential punishments. I looked up and told Nisha in a low voice, "This is going to be a very interesting holiday I tell you". "Haha...It will get better monster. Now eat quickly, you have a long interesting day ahead of you". We both laughed and religiously got back to our fresh pancakes.
I'd strongly recommend life insurance before boarding this bitch!
2 comments:
Jammu,
Read parts II and III - very well written! Nice writing style. What happened to 2000 London photo?
Ok... ignore the photo bit - it's back.
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