Day 16-17 The journey home!

Waking up on my last day there was still no internet, so Adam (the tour guide) shared his private internet connection with me so that I could let family and friends know I hadn't been eaten by a shark, I hadn't been carried out to sea whilst snorkelling alone and that I hadn't decided to abandon Europe  (especially the horrid Brexit malarkey) forever and set up home permanently on Bod.

I have to admit, this last option could have been hard to resist, had it not meant giving up a nice glass of wine in the evening - for the rest of my days.

If you've been following the story so far, you will have realised that:-

a) I'm rather obsessive  about being on time (anyone who gets to the airport 4 hours before their flight probably deserves the term manic rather than obsessive)

b) I'm not and never will be a "wing it" sort of person.  I like to plan ahead, know exactly what I'm doing (and when) and loathe leaving anything until the last minute.

So as I was totally convinced I would never get everything into my suitcase and backpack, I had spent most of the previous evening packing, unpacking and repacking my cases, to make sure I was using every square centimetre of space.  

Once the cases were all packed I felt very pleased with myself and being that organised certainly reduced my stress levels, and enabled me to get a good night's sleep - but now I was left with 4 hours to kill before my ferry at 12.30 and nothing to do all morning.

I tried to take my time over breakfast, but I just wasn't hungry, so that took up less time than usual.  I got out my kindle to read a bit, but found myself  reading the same page over and over.

Even though Adam had given me his log in details (for the internet) I wasn't sure whether he had one of those plans that limits your usage and didn't want to abuse his generosity.  This meant keeping my live blogging and facebook checking to a minimum.

So all I could do was try to relax!!!

I should explain that although I really enjoy travelling on my own, I'm not particularly keen on the actual getting from A to B part and tend to feel a teensy bit anxious until I'm actually on the plane/train/boat/coach.  If you can imagine someone, unable to sit still, checking their watch every 2 minutes, running to the loo every 5 minutes and chain smoking - that was me on my last morning in Bod.  The boys at Holiday Village Retreat must have thought I was bonkers.

As the clock moved slowly toward midday, Arshad arrived with his wheelbarrow to collect my luggage and I decided to wait in the garden rather than on my terrace.  Just before midday, Bary's bother Mohammed arrived to escort me to the ferry, but first I had to settle my bill.

This is always a nerve racking moment for me.  I've lost count of the number of times I've had credit and debit cards refused abroad.  Despite what you may think, none of those occasions have been because I've had insufficient funds.  The reasons have been obscure and the results extremely embarrassing.

Two particularly humiliating examples spring to mind.

The first time was while I was still working.  Once the end of year results were in, it was standard practice in my company to reward our top performing branch office with a weekend away in a major European city.  As head of operations, it was my job to escort them and host a slap up dinner in a top restaurant.  On this occasion, I was in Barcelona with our very large team from Preston and the restaurant that had been selected, was both exclusive and very expensive.  Nevertheless, these girls had produced amazing results for the company and deserved to be spoiled, so I ordered some champagne and encouraged them to have exactly what they wanted from the extremely pricey menu.  Of course - you know what's coming........

The attentive and deferential waiter brought me the bill, I glanced at all the noughts (It was still pesetas back then) gave him a smile that I hoped would say "pah is that all - I spend this sort of money on dinner all the time", and dropped my credit card onto the exquisite little plate.

A few moments later he was back.

He bent down to whisper those immortal words in my ear "card no good"!

My relaxed smile turned into a fixed grin as I casually announced "I'll be back in a moment" to the rest of the table.

At the till, the waiter and I were joined by the restaurant manager who clearly wasn't impressed by the fact that 14 women had run up a colossal bill in his establishment without the ability to pay.

As I tried to explain that there was no reason on earth why the card should be declined, it became clear that "card no good" was pretty much the extent of their ability to speak English.  Back then, my command of the Spanish language was limited to Hola, Adios and Gracias, so we were rapidly getting nowhere fast.

They tried the card 3 more times and each time it appeared to fail.  I had no idea what to do.

I couldn't use my debit card because I was pretty sure that would be declined for lack of funds.  Mobile phones back then were still in their infancy, so mine was a huge device the size of a brick and had been left at home. Using sign language I asked if I could use their phone to call the credit card company in the UK.  The manager, who seemed convinced he was being scammed, shook his head and said "not possible".  Now whether this was because the phone wouldn't allow it or he was determined to make me squirm I will never know, but at that moment Anne, the branch manager (and the guest of honour) appeared by my side.  "Is there a problem", she asked.

Faced with the option of the whole team being dragged into the kitchen to wash up or having the police called, I decided to come clean.

Showing calm determination in a problematic situation (which is why she was our top branch manager for years) she offered to settle the bill for me.  I was both relieved and completely humiliated at the same time - nevertheless, I had no option but to accept her kind offer.  I assured her getting her reimbursed would be my first job, back in the office on Monday morning.  My second job, would be to call the credit card company to find out what the f**k was going on.

It turned out that because I was in Barcelona and the bill was so big, the card company had called the restaurant to ask to speak to me, so they could perform a security check (so the phone could take international calls but not make them).  Whoever answered the phone hadn't understood this and had just kept trying the card - so they blocked it!!

The second situation that caused extreme embarrassment was in Buenos Aires.  I was there for a few days as part of a much longer trip around Argentina and Uruguay.  Going to see a proper Tango show must be high on the list of many visitors to that great city and I was determined to do it in style.

So I booked a highly recommended show in an incredibly elegant theatre, that included a sumptuous dinner.

I found myself sitting at a long table surrounded by other solo travellers from all over the world and had a lovely evening chatting about our travels and remarking on the gorgeous food and amazing show.

At the end of the evening, the waiters brought us all our individual bills and I handed over my debit card, happy in the knowledge that there was no danger of it being rejected for lack of funds.

Ever had that deja vu feeling!!

As the waiter approached me with a look on his face that exudes pity, I felt my heart sink and the heat rise up to turn my face scarlet!

"Sorry señora - the card no work".

My new companions looked on with sympathy, as I pondered what to do.  I had some cash on me, but I wasn't sure I had enough and I certainly didn't fancy counting it out on the table in front of me, with everyone watching.  Alternatively, I could try to call my bank, but my mobile had taken a instant dislike to South America and was behaving like a petulant child - refusing to work sometimes or cutting me off 30 seconds into the call on others.

So as the pressure and anxiety mounted, I decided to check if I had enough cash.  Most of my handbags are so big you could perform open heart surgery inside them, but for this evening, I had opted to dress up and had chosen a small evening bag to go with my long frock.  So with no wiggle room inside the bag, I had to count the money in full view of everyone at the table and the waiter hovering by my shoulder.

Argentine pesos, like many currencies have a lot of small denomination notes, so what looks like a big wad of money actually amounts to a couple of quid.  I felt like I was counting out the money for hours - like one of those horror films when everything goes into slow motion.  Of course it would have been far less humiliating if I had just left the table and gone with the waiter to the till, but for some reason I was stuck to the chair - maybe I was terrified that my shaky legs would fail me and I would fall flat on my face.

About halfway through the count, the guy opposite me asked if I thought I had enough.  I said I didn't know, promptly lost count and had to start again.  By now, even more people further down the table were staring and had I been wearing flat shoes, I may well have been tempted to try to do a runner.  Not because I didn't want to pay - just to get away from this awfully embarrassing situation.

As I completed my task, I looked up at a sea of expectant faces and gently shook my head.  There was a sharp communal intake of breath from everyone and the girl next to me put her hand on my arm in sympathy.  "How short are you", she asked. "About 30 pesos" I replied.

At which point, all the lovely people I had shared the evening with, pulled out their wallets/purses and offered to cover the balance for me.

I was immensely grateful at their generosity and insisted I would pay it back as soon as I had spoken to my bank, unblocked my card and found a cash point.  The guy opposite who actually insisted I take the money from him, told me not to worry - he said that 30 pesos was less than $2 and I could have it as a present.

When I got hold of my bank the next morning, they explained that this was a very common problem in South America!  (Good to know). Many establishments didn't have modern card readers, so they entered the card number into the till manually.  Barclay's computer was programmed to automatically reject these manual transactions and block the card immediately.  This, I was assured, was to protect me against fraud.  Shame it didn't have the facility to protect me against abject humiliation!

So because of these experiences ( and others that were only marginally less embarrassing), I try to make sure I have several cards with me when I travel.

Nevertheless, as soon as I present my card to pay for a large amount of money anywhere in the world, my brain immediately drags up all those horrific memories and replays them for me - in glorious technicolour.

Mohammed explained he would have to send for the machine and five minutes later another man arrived, brandishing his little card reader.  I'm not sure from whence this man came - but I assume it's another example of the co-operation between the fledgling businesses on Bod.  To my huge relief, the transaction was accepted and I could relax.

Finally it was time to leave and as I started to say my goodbyes, I realised that I wasn't going to be making my way to the harbour alone.  Mohammed, Kingsley the chef and of course Arshad, complete with luggage laden wheelbarrow - were coming to wave me off.

At the harbour, there was quite a crowd (by Bod's standards).  The arrival of the ferry is clearly a major event, so all sorts of people show up to load and unload goods or just pass the time of day with each other.

Everyone on Bod dresses very casually (very sensible in the heat) so I was surprised to see a man arrive in smart trousers, shirt and tie.  He chatted with Mohammed for a bit and then came over to me, shook my hand and introduced himself as Hassan and explained that he was the Assistant Director of the council offices on Bod.  Ever polite,  I said I was pleased to meet him, but couldn't for the life of me, work out why he had singled me out.

"I've read your blog", he announced. "It's very good for our island, so I wanted to thank you".  How cool is that!  I assured him that I had had the most amazing time and would definitely be back and would continue to recommend the island to everyone considering the Maldives.

As the ferry arrived, I gave all the boys from HVR a big hug and as it drew away from the jetty, we all kept waving until they were tiny specks in the distance.

During the trip back to Male, I was filled with a lovely warm glow.  I felt relaxed, rejuvenated and at peace as I reflected on my wonderful holiday.

The calm was only slightly marred by a dear little girl who couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to sit by her mum (next to me) or with her dad, who was in the seats diagonally opposite.  The problem was that I was sitting right next to a big open gap at the back of the boat.  No door, no barrier and nothing to stop her flying off the back of the boat, if we hit a bump.  Her parents didn't seem in the least bit concerned as she tottered back and forth in front of the gap, but it set my heart racing and I flung my arm out to stop her vanishing into the ocean on several occasions!

We arrived at the airport at around 2.00pm but as my flight wasn't until 10.00pm I had a lot of time to kill.

I had assumed that as I was travelling business class on a long haul flight I would be able to check in early, dump my case and then seek out the posh lounge complete with free snacks, drinks and a smoking lounge.  No such luck.  In Male airport they do things a little differently.  Here,  you have to go through  security before you check in and they won't let you do that until 2 hours before your flight.  So frankly you are a bit stuffed.

This meant that for 6 hours, everywhere I went, my trolley with all my luggage had to go too and this was one of those rare occasions when I could have done with a travelling companion. Trying to go to the loo with all that luggage isn't fun.

I decided to get something to eat and headed into a coffee shop that had a nice selection of sandwiches and rolls.  The guy behind the counter shouted at me to get out as I wasn't allowed to bring my trolley in.  I explained that I just wanted to get a coffee and a sandwich and would take it away if that made things easier - but I certainly wasn't going to leave all my luggage outside, unattended.  He just shrugged, pointed to the door and said I couldn't come in with the trolley.

I would have understood if the space was cramped and I was knocking into tables. But the place was enormous and there were virtually no customers, so it seemed completely unreasonable and pretty stupid especially as the trolley and I were already inside and he could have easily served me in the time it took to argue the point.

Hello - this is an airport - people have luggage that they don't want stolen and if you are not allowed to check in early - trollies are sort of essential!!   I hate rules that make no sense, so decided to look elsewhere.

Across the concourse was an Asian fast food place, that didn't have a trolley ban, so I had a lovely spicy soup and some yummy noodles instead.  This establishment was packed with customers (all with trollies) unlike the empty, trolley free coffee shop - I wonder which company will still be in business when I go back?

I spent the rest of the afternoon outside reading in a lovely shady spot right by the water's edge and presented myself at the security gate at 8.00pm - 2 hours before my flight precisely.

Case dumped, check in completed, I headed straight for the business lounge and it truly lived up to expectations.  The range of food and drinks on offer was great - so armed with a glass of wine and a plateful of snacks, I took full advantage of the free wifi and settled down to wait for my flight.  On my way to one of my frequent visits to the smoking lounge, I notice that Male has a pretty spectacular shopping area, but the pull of the executive lounge, the smoking lounge and the fact that I didn't have a square inch of space in any of my carry on bags helped me walk straight on by - even past the Pandora counter. Remarkable!!!

Once the flight was called, I got disproportionately excited about boarding

first and walking down the exclusive ramp to that hallowed space on the aircraft.    I'd like to tell you that I approached the whole experience with style and panache - I'd like to tell you that, but sadly I can't.  Just picture the reaction of a small child getting the most desirable toy they have been wanting forever.  I just about managed to stop myself jumping up and down and clapping - but there was definitely some skipping and insane grinning. Once in my seat, I stretched my legs right out in front of me and took a photo of my feet (to send to my sister to demonstrate the leg room).  Then I took a picture of the wide screen TV and another one of the cabin.  I took pictures of my delicious dinner, complete with glass of wine or 2 and when I had finally captured the full extent of the amazing experience on my phone, I settled down for a lovely comfy sleep.

If you've read my earlier posts, you will be aware of my traumatic transfer in Doha airport on my way to the Maldives.  This couldn't have been more different.

I had plenty of time to take full advantage of the facilities on offer and quite frankly, the business lounge in Doha is simply stunning.

It's enormous, has a virtual lake in the middle of it, offers a full dinner menu as well as little stations dotted everywhere with coffee, snacks and drinks.  

Best of all, it has a comfortable smoking lounge, where you can enjoy a cigarette along with a glass of wine or a coffee - or (in my case) both.

I was in heaven and my only concern was that it was going to be very hard to go back to travelling on a budget after this.

The second longer leg of my journey, was equally amazing - gorgeous food, a comfy bed and fantastic entertainment.

On arriving at Barcelona, I made another interesting discovery - business class bags come out first.  So within less than 2 minutes I was on my way.

The inter-terminal coach driver didn't have a death wish this time, so that part of the journey passed without incident or injury, the train connections were perfect and my neighbours were at the station to meet me and welcome me home.  So in sharp contrast to my trip to the Maldives, everything was perfect.

Back at home, I sat down to work out exactly how much the trip had cost and was pleasantly surprised.  The accommodation, food and trips at Holiday Village resort represented amazing value.  The flights, had I not upgraded 3 of them, would have been pretty cheap, but the million dollar question was.......... was it worth paying the extra money for business?

Emphatically and unequivocally yes.  The difference in service, comfort and food was vast and to arrive at your destination, rested, relaxed and feeling great is worth it's weight in gold.  Yes it was more money than I had planned to spend - but oh my goodness it was so worth it.

So that's it.  A holiday I will never forget and I would like to sign off this blog by thanking Bari and his team for a truly memorable, spectacular holiday on the lovely little island of Bod.

I will definitely be back........ just as soon as I can save up enough money to fly in style!

I would like to thank all of you (far more people than I ever dreamed possible) for reading my musings and if you have enjoyed this blog,  please share it with your friends and leave me a comment.

Much love

Maz