Day 1, Barcelona to Doha - The trouble with travel......

After my 6 flight, 48 hour marathon, getting back from New Zealand,  I was determined to keep the travel as simple as possible for my next trip.  The problem with living in Spain, is that there are virtually no direct flights to places that offer great snorkelling and or wildlife viewing, so a 2 flight journey is inevitable.

The Maldives has always been a high priority for my travels, simply because it shows up in nearly every "top 10 places to snorkel in the world" list. So when I discovered that Qatar Airways could fly me there from Barcelona, with just one stop in Doha,  flight times that didn't involve overnight stays at either end and a price that was very reasonable, I was delighted.

During my travels, I have learned some of the pitfalls, the hard way.  One of them is not to book connecting flights with different airlines if it can possibly be avoided and another is to make sure there is enough time to make the connection. 

I've had some pretty nasty near misses with connecting flights in the past, so now I check there will be ample time to slowly meander to my next flight, checking out the shops along the way and taking full advantage of the smoking room ( if they have one).  I also allow extra time for the additional security that is popping up everywhere, even if you are staying air-side.

This journey looked like it had a one and half hour transfer time in Doha ( it was hard to work out exactly because of the time differences), not as long as I would have liked (so the shopping might have to go) but more than enough to make the next flight with a fag stop or two built in and definitely no running or stress involved.

Getting to Barcelona was a breeze; the train was on time and the connection to the airport was perfect.  The first indication that my journey wasn't going to be entirely stress free was during the transfer from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1.  Now I've done that short bus trip several times and have never had a problem, but then I've never had a bus driver who was determined to do a 10 minute journey in 5 before - maybe he had watched the film Speed, too many times.

I'd also never noticed just how many bends in the road there are, but these become very apparent when your easy wheel suitcase escapes from your grasp and flies across the bus, hitting several passengers along the way - more than once!  I was sitting on one of the high seats facing forward - well I was, until on a particularly sharp bend, I actually fell off.  So embarrassing!

I completed the last part of the journey with the young man sitting next to me hanging on to my arm to stop me going flying again and the guy standing in the aisle  bracing himself against the case, presumable to stop further damage to his kneecaps and shins.

The bus finally screeched to a halt right outside the Qatar Airways section and I staggered off with a much needed cigarette already on it's way to my mouth.

Having calmed down and topped up my nicotine, I made my way to the Qatar airways check in desks.  There was a bit of a queue, but nothing too horrendous, so I joined the line and contemplated the little dilemma  I was now faced with.

In  my New Zealand Blog, I described the ridiculous lengths Lottie and I went to, to try to get an upgrade to business class - all totally unsuccessful.  So you can imagine my excitement, when 10 days ago I received an E Mail entitled "Qatar Airways - Online Upgrade Offer".  Unfortunately my bouncing around the kitchen with joy was cut cruelly short, when I read the details.  Compared with the original price of a business class ticket, the offer may well be a bargain in their eyes, but it was still an eye-watering sum of money and it was only for one way. 

I gave it a lot of thought, concluded that to upgrade for both legs of my flight was just too much and after a lengthy conversation with myself decided to just take the upgrade for the shorter second flight - Doha to Male (Maldives).  This, I reasoned, would mean I get the yucky cramped bit out of the way first - with loads of space, a completely flat bed (for the middle of the night) and much nicer food, to look forward to.

So back waiting to check in - I was in a quandary.  I was in the economy queue, but the business class desk was empty.  If I left the economy queue, went over to business  and got sent back because my ticket was half and half - how embarrassing would that be?  I'm sure other people would just go for it, but I can be a bit of a wuss when it comes to things like this and I was still traumatised from the inter terminal bus nightmare (well that's my excuse anyway) and so stayed where I was.

Eventually a smart looking uniformed man walked by, so I stopped him, showed him my ticket and asked if I could check in at the business desk.  "Of course madam - I will check you in myself".  I felt a bit like a celebrity as he undid the rope barrier to let me through and personally escorted me to the desk.  Now,  full of my own importance, I thought I would have a go at getting the first flight upgraded as well.  So I explained that as much as I would have liked to fly business all the way, I just couldn't afford it.  My lovely man smiled and whispered "let me see what I can do".  My heart started pounding with excitement and I managed to control the urge to jump up and down shouting "YES - YES".  After checking the screen, he looked at me, smiled again and said "we can offer you an upgrade" - "oh that would be amazing thank you thank you" I replied. "And it will only cost you €500",  he added.  I felt like a deflated balloon.  The disappointment must have been written all over my face, as I explained that was too much and I would have to stick with economy.  My suitcase was awarded a business class tag though, so I suppose that was something.

I knew from previous long haul flights, that Barcelona has an outside seating area where smoking is permitted after security, so at least I didn't have to do the "lets see how many cigarettes I can cram in before I go through to departures" ritual.

Getting through security was a dream - fast, uncomplicated and only a quick pat down because my chunky necklace had set off the alarm.

I was determined to ignore the shops, just get a glass of wine and make my way to the smoking area to wait for my flight and ..........  I almost made it. 

Despite trying to keep my eyes facing forward, my peripheral vision caught sight of an irresistible bargain at the entrance to the duty free shop.  Half price designer perfumes.  Convinced I would have no need for perfume on a snorkelling trip - I'd left all mine at home, so I'm sorry to say, the temptation was too much.  I chose the one with the prettiest bottle that just happened to smell all light and fresh,  and it is lovely - definitely worth the detour - honest!!  I was just about to rip it open to give myself a nice refreshing squirt, when I had a nasty niggling thought - I probably still had a security check at Doha to go through and I hadn't checked to see if it was under 100ml. 

I had visions of me, on my knees, begging the security staff not to take my pretty little bottle of loveliness away from me.  I checked the box, which was no help because the contents were listed in fluid ounces, so decided to keep it cellophane wrapped, in the bag (with duty free written all over it) along with the receipt - just in case.  As it turns out - I needn't have worried, because it's only 50ml, which just goes to show what a complete con all the fancy packaging is.

After my glass of wine and 15 cigarettes ( only kidding - I just smoked 5) I made my way to the gate.  I watched enviously as the business class passengers sailed through their special gold plated gate looking down their noses at us plebs in economy, but wasn't too disheartened because I would be one of them at Doha and if there was time, I was definitely going to call in to the business lounge and partake of the free wine and yummy snacks they have in these places ( I know this because my company always flew us business class on long haul flights).

I didn't bother to get up and join the long snaking queue that materialised as soon as the gate staff appeared, because I thought they would board people in rows or sections.  They didn't, so  I waited for the line of people to subside a bit and then attached myself to the end.

My seat was quite near the front and there was still plenty of space for my super dooper backpack/ Camera bag my sister bought me for my birthday.

Since I retired, I've developed a bit of a passion for photography and although I'm still a bit clueless about all the technical stuff, that hasn't stopped me buying 4 cameras!

 I bet you are thinking, "why on earth does she need 4 cameras", -  and I shall tell you.

I have an Olympus Tough which takes great underwater pictures ( and you can drop it from a great height apparently).  I have a Sony advanced compact, that takes fab pictures and fits in a small handbag.  I have a Nikon DSLR that definitely doesn't fit in a handbag, but takes even fabber pictures and you can change the lens.  And finally - I have a Go Pro. 

I liken owning a Go Pro to having a newborn baby.  The most important item is tiny (baby or Go Pro) but the amount of stuff you have to carry around with it and the space that all takes up, is ridiculous.

So my new bag is a godsend as it has neat little compartments that you can move/change to fit your cameras, chargers and the 3 tons of Go Pro accessories and it has a pocket for my laptop.

Anyway - back to my story.  Once my bag was safely stowed, I attempted to get into my seat.

The rather portly gentleman (I'm being really really kind here) and his wife (also the size of a house) clearly hadn't got the memo about keeping your seat in an upright position until the seatbelt signs go off after take off.  They both had reclined them as far as they would go and the extra weight brought them even further into my space (and the one next to me).

This, coupled with the fact that the gap between rows and the legroom was surprisingly small for a jumbo, meant that I had to perform a strange contorted leaning manoeuvre with a little jump at the end to get into my seat.  I managed it, just, but then realised that the back of his seat was only 12 inches from my face.  Why oh why didn't I just bite the bullet and pay for the upgrade.  I waited patiently for one of the cabin crew to come and tell him to put his seat up, but they were rather busy taking care of an elderly lady who seemed a bit distressed ( I was about to join her if he didn't move his seat soon) and a mother with some small children who were not at all keen on this flying malarkey and were letting the whole plane know it - very loudly.

I had been in the last group to board and there were only a few stragglers making their way down the aisles, so as the seat next to me was still empty, I was fairly confident, that I was going to have both of them, all to myself.  Space to put my feet up and stretch out a little, would more than make up for the space hogger in front of me.

When will I ever learn not to count my chickens etc. etc.

A young bloke stopped right by me and using hand signals, indicated that my extra seat ( which was how I regarded it, by now) was, in fact his.  Reluctantly, (and with great difficulty) I performed the strange contorted leaning manoeuvre with a little jump, in reverse, to let him in.  Watching him do the same movements twice, in quick succession made me very glad I wasn't in the window seat and despite us both knocking into and banging the seats in front ( I may have got a little over zealous with my knocking and banging as I wiggled into my seat for the second time),  both of the fatties in front stayed fully reclined.

I think it was when I said "bugger" and "oh shit" (as I scraped parts of my body on the arm rest as I  landed in my seat), that we realised we both spoke English.  We shared a whispered little joke about the inconsiderate people in front, had a brief chat about our final destination  and he promptly fell asleep. 

He remained fast asleep for the whole flight, so missed out on some better than average aeroplane food, the challenge of trying to find somewhere to put the layers of packaging the food comes in, on the teency weency little trays and trying to watch a movie that is constantly interrupted with a whole range of announcements in several different languages.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand.  We had been sitting on the plane for some while now and the cabin crew still hadn't been round to "have a word" with the fat recliners.

We sat there and sat there and sat there.  They played the "amusing" safety video - this one featuring Barcelona Football players and the plane still didn't move.

The captain announced that there was a short delay because mumble, mumble, static, kids screaming, static, mumble - (it could have been "we need a new engine" for all I knew) and we would be on our way soon.

I find "soon" to be a relative term. It can reassure people that everything is fine and the delay can't be anything serious - or in my case it can bring on a major panic attack.

Soon wasn't good enough - I needed to know exactly how long we were going to be on the tarmac.  I had another plane to catch, a business lounge to visit, some cigarettes to smoke and I certainly didn't want to have to RUN through Doha airport.

Eventually, after what seemed like days, the cabin crew came round, told the fatties to put their seats up (about bloody time) and we were finally on our way.   I convinced myself that all would be well, as these flights always seem to make up some time when they are delayed and I was sure they would build in a little for contingency. ( Actually I was thinking of Ryanair who always say their flights are longer, so they can play that silly trumpet fan-fair when they land ahead of schedule).

Once in the air, my film was interrupted again, for the captain's announcement.  He apologised for the delay and told us we would be landing in Doha at 1.30am.  Wait - what!!!!!  My boarding card for Mali said I had to be at the gate ready to board at 1.30 am.  Panic, panic, hyperventilate, panic!

Once I had calmed down a bit and was able to breath properly, I made peace with the fact that I would probably have to forgo the posh lounge with tempting nibbles and wine. But, I reasoned, as long as the gate was nearby, (ha - fat chance) there was no extra security ( who was I kidding), and the smoking room was conveniently situated right by my new gate ( cloud cuckoo land anyone?), I would still make my flight and be able to have a quick fag in the process.

Clearly it was out of my hands now, so once I'd eaten my "special" vegetarian meal, which was surprisingly tasty, drunk my plastic cup of wine (it's just not the same somehow),  I reclined my seat and managed to get some sleep.