Sat in Doha airport having found the wifi and the power outlets, but I made the mistake of putting my power cables in my checked baggage.
iPhone – 47%, laptop – 66%
I do however have my Kindle but I can’t read when it’s noisy (and boy is it noisy here) so I might go to the prayer room and worship at the altar of Carl Sagan if I’m allowed.

On a side note some crazy Italian-sounding lady is lurking next to me asking for technical support… seriously, it’s a free wifi hotspot, if you can’t figure out how to use it, it’s probably for the best.

So I got about 2 hours sleep last night, partly due to getting back to the hotel so late and partly due to the loudest monsoon rain so far. So I’m knackered. I left the hotel at 6am, at the same time as Daniel, an Icelandic guy who was staying at the one next door. He was going to the bus station to hop on the Greenline to Pokhara which is on the way to the airport so we shared a cab as it was pissing it down and there was only one in sight. I was a tad jealous, and told him so, and he was relieved to hear that Pokhara is nothing like Kathmandu. It took a fair bit of will power (and admittedly some common sense) to stay in the cab and go to the airport rather than following him to Pokhara.

The airport was chaotic, which I had anticipated, but not to the degree that I experienced this morning. I dashed out of the taxi, through the monsoon to the departures area, where there’s basically a load of different entrances depending on what airline you’re flying with, although they all open into the same check-in hall. All the doors were closed when I arrived, as was the airport. This remained the case for an hour, which was fun, and then they opened the door next to the one I was meant to go through, so I thought “bugger it” and went in anyway. It’s not exactly a finely tuned system at Kathmandu Airport, I wasn’t going to mess up their perfect check-in process.

Another slight issue was my lack of boarding pass having checked in online and being minus a printer, but apparently waving a British passport around does the trick, which was good. I will be very surprised if my baggage is waiting for me in Heathrow, however, as they didn’t stick the tag on properly and I watched it fall off the baggage carousel when it got to the airside of the conveyour belt. Ah well, nuttin I can do.

In the airport, I bumped into Corey, an American guy who we kept meeting at Busy Bees, and the last time I saw him he couldn’t afford his bar tab, so Kat kindly bailed him out by giving her phone as a deposit. I frantically texted her to ask if she ever got her money back, but by the time she replied he was already airborne. It’s weird that I keep meeting Pokhara people in Kathmandu, that’s the third time it’s happened.

Anyway, eventually the airport opened properly, flights resumed, and mine was only running an hour late so it wasn’t too bad. Except yet again some asshole had nicked my seat, but as I wasn’t running late this time, I decided to make an issue of it. Turns out he was meant to be in the seat next to mine, but had decided to take the window seat instead so the steward bumped him across. This meant I had to sit next to him for 5 hours, which was unpleasant as he was borderline obese, rather sweaty, and refused to turn his mobile phone off until the steward threatened to kick him off the plane.

I managed about an hour’s sleep I think, but the seats weren’t far enough apart to accomodate my femurs so I was hunched at a very awkward angle. Moan moan moan… bitch bitch bitch. Can you tell I’m tired?

Yeah, so Doha is not my kinda place. The airport stinks of money and so do the people in it. I’ve not dared to find out how much a cup of tea would be, but if it’s what I expect then I’ll improvise. I have some tea bags in my hand luggage, so all I need is a mug, some hot water, and some milk. Oh, and a spoon.

Wish me luck.

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