The alarm in Lina Park Apartment Hotel rang at 4am and by 5 I’d checked out, taking one last look down Grime Street and leaving my weights, cutlery and blankets for the Bengali houseboys.
An Uber taxi took me on a short desert drive to King Fahd's airfield with its familiar terminal and attached mosque, fountains still spluttering in the atrium.
There were plenty of sleepy Saudi travellers, on the move or slumbering on sofas in terminal lounges. The Saudi female, emerging from behind the black cloth, is conspicuous by her presence.
An Uber taxi took me on a short desert drive to King Fahd's airfield with its familiar terminal and attached mosque, fountains still spluttering in the atrium.
There were plenty of sleepy Saudi travellers, on the move or slumbering on sofas in terminal lounges. The Saudi female, emerging from behind the black cloth, is conspicuous by her presence.
Big changes are taking place:
McDonalds has installed an outlet in the Arrivals Hall. Big Mac straight off the plane.
Females are now manning counters on the much-feared Immigration desk. If your exit visa is somehow incorrect, or you have outstanding debt in the Kingdom, then you are in bigtime shit and not allowed to leave until the Saudis say-so. These days, in an age of eye-popping female liberation, a cute chick asks for my fingerprint and her smile and nod give me the all-clear to go.
Man, that is way different from days when the Immigration office was controlled by the army's ultra-surly soldiers who would often saunter away on tea break leaving 200+ people waiting in line.
Today, after some nifty tippy-tapping on a laptop, dawn broke to the sound of exit visa being stamped and I was through in 30 seconds.
Sleep was tumbling when the Dammam–Istanbul flight took off at 07.10 and I didn't wake until a breakfast tray was slipped under my nose by a cute Turkish airplane chick. Bonus!
There was a 3hour stopover in Istanbul and from the familiar caged-in open-air fag deck we looked out on hazy runways. An airport refit has seen this terminal double in size since my last visit, which led to a half hour conveyor belt walk to the gate.
Asleep on take-off I woke to find yet another breakfast tray being slipped under my nose by a cute Turkish airlines chick. Bonus!
McDonalds has installed an outlet in the Arrivals Hall. Big Mac straight off the plane.
Females are now manning counters on the much-feared Immigration desk. If your exit visa is somehow incorrect, or you have outstanding debt in the Kingdom, then you are in bigtime shit and not allowed to leave until the Saudis say-so. These days, in an age of eye-popping female liberation, a cute chick asks for my fingerprint and her smile and nod give me the all-clear to go.
Man, that is way different from days when the Immigration office was controlled by the army's ultra-surly soldiers who would often saunter away on tea break leaving 200+ people waiting in line.
Today, after some nifty tippy-tapping on a laptop, dawn broke to the sound of exit visa being stamped and I was through in 30 seconds.
Sleep was tumbling when the Dammam–Istanbul flight took off at 07.10 and I didn't wake until a breakfast tray was slipped under my nose by a cute Turkish airplane chick. Bonus!
There was a 3hour stopover in Istanbul and from the familiar caged-in open-air fag deck we looked out on hazy runways. An airport refit has seen this terminal double in size since my last visit, which led to a half hour conveyor belt walk to the gate.
Asleep on take-off I woke to find yet another breakfast tray being slipped under my nose by a cute Turkish airlines chick. Bonus!
At around 10am an empty Praha Ruzyne appeared out of clouds and an Airport Express bus took us on a tour of the sights before its final and only stop at Hlavni nadrazi where I dumped my bag in left luggage and jumped on tram no. 9 headed for Zizkov’s Shotgun.
Shotgun, Shotgun, Shotgun … 3 to 4 hours later ...
Shotgun, Shotgun, Shotgun … 3 to 4 hours later ...
... A fine walk in sunshine, downhill to the main station where I grab my bag, grab a sandwich, find the platform and board the train on which I snooze for the two hours to Decin.
Half asleep I staggered around with 10kgs on my back and caught a bus onto Masaryk Square where a nonstop was showing a snooker match featuring ace Chinese cueman Zhang and next to that another TV showing a football match between Karvina and Teplice. A sporting extravaganza to welcome me back.
Refreshed and rejuvenated by coffee and juice, a wild bus ride took me out to the Boonies and I was dropped off next to a cascading river in the middle of nowhere. 18 minutes later, the same bus returned to take me back into town with the same laughing driver Honza who had sent me on this wild goose chase in the first place. He let me off paying the fare, but this detour meant I’d missed the last train home so the softest of soft beds was found at Hotel Koruna, inducing deep sleep before more breakfast, this time served by chattering Ukrainian refugees.
A local bus took me back to the railway station and at the bakery I stocked up on bread products and salad. Wintry sun washed over the final ride and a warm glow enveloped me as I clambered off at Lipa to breathe the fresh air of home.
Half asleep I staggered around with 10kgs on my back and caught a bus onto Masaryk Square where a nonstop was showing a snooker match featuring ace Chinese cueman Zhang and next to that another TV showing a football match between Karvina and Teplice. A sporting extravaganza to welcome me back.
Refreshed and rejuvenated by coffee and juice, a wild bus ride took me out to the Boonies and I was dropped off next to a cascading river in the middle of nowhere. 18 minutes later, the same bus returned to take me back into town with the same laughing driver Honza who had sent me on this wild goose chase in the first place. He let me off paying the fare, but this detour meant I’d missed the last train home so the softest of soft beds was found at Hotel Koruna, inducing deep sleep before more breakfast, this time served by chattering Ukrainian refugees.
A local bus took me back to the railway station and at the bakery I stocked up on bread products and salad. Wintry sun washed over the final ride and a warm glow enveloped me as I clambered off at Lipa to breathe the fresh air of home.
In the final 400 metres around the horse field, I smoked a post-train spliff and managed to lose my bag containing laptop as well as the delicious food I’d just bought, resulting in a mad dash back to the station. I’d decided I must have left it on the train and reported this to a hippy stationmaster who made phone calls to ascertain that it had not been left on the train ... I’d lost it. Shit!
Trudging morosely up the track I spotted the bag leaning nonchalantly against a road sign where I’d put it down to take a photo of the still being renovated station building. Bonus! I skipped up the road before entering woods surrounding Frog Shagging Pond and at last, thank God and Allah and Buddha, I was finally home sweet home.
In the final 400 metres around the horse field, I smoked a post-train spliff and managed to lose my bag containing laptop as well as the delicious food I’d just bought, resulting in a mad dash back to the station. I’d decided I must have left it on the train and reported this to a hippy stationmaster who made phone calls to ascertain that it had not been left on the train ... I’d lost it. Shit!
Trudging morosely up the track I spotted the bag leaning nonchalantly against a road sign where I’d put it down to take a photo of the still being renovated station building. Bonus! I skipped up the road before entering woods surrounding Frog Shagging Pond and at last, thank God and Allah and Buddha, I was finally home sweet home.