Bangladesh, like a number of Islamic countries, does not have the same weekend that we have in the UK but actually has Friday and Saturday as the weekend. This is kind of interesting in its own way, but less convenient for me than I'd like - it means a Saturday departure meaning a Sunday arrival just means no weekend at all. Thus, a Friday departure is needed to get some weekend time in. (obviously, this is sort of reversed on return as I can leave on a Sunday and still have a bit of weekend on returning)
And a Friday night departure would not really work, so I took an extra day off and made my way.
A morning flight from Heathrow is both a delight and a pain. It is marginally easier and less busy on the tube but still busier than I'd expect, or hope. London is quite busy… I was flying with Qatar Airways and so had a stopover in Doha. Qatar, like so many Middle Eastern countries, is trying hard to reputation launder and other than the obvious sporting methods of holding a World Cup through dubious means, it is also spreading the brand through air travel as Emirates, Etihad, et al are doing. What this means is quite a decent service using new planes at a relatively low price through an airport hub in Doha. I chose a flight on the A380 for reasons covered before but was unable to properly check in before due to technical issues and so was assigned a seat in the middle, which I'm not a fan of. As the flight was full, this was not something that could be changed so I saw the flipside of A380 travel - boarding takes ages. The person at check-in was very pleasant and although I didn't actually complain and just asked if there were other seats available, she did try to accommodate this, albeit unsuccessfully. The flight was at 9am yet boarding was printed on the pass at 8 and they actually started then too. And they needed to with plenty of people and many of them being rather young, it was due to be a noisy leg.
The flight itself was not too bad as I was fortunate enough to be seated with a very pleasant neighbour - one of the better single-serving friends. As she was on her way to Melbourne from London, she really was in for the long haul but had some experience of the airline and transit so was able to fill me in with some useful info. I reciprocated with, what else but, stories of London changes in popularity and places to visit. Needless to say, the Museum of London was unknown to her. I even managed to talk of social arbitrage as done, in my opinion, by Middle Eastern countries. That wasn't a phrase I expected to use.
It was a flight that I'd hoped to sleep on but it didn't really happen so I dozed while listening to (previously reviewed) Your Name like a duvet and wished I could sleep. I had about 7 hours to wait in Doha so maybe I could nap there. Or maybe not.
Doha Airport is new and has the modern feel of all the modern airports with the similar colours and feelings. And, similarly to some airports designed for the future, it feels empty and soulless. Having checked a website about long transit times, I was expecting a nice, convenient stop which it was in many ways as there was plenty of seating but I assume, as it was an evening to night break, that it was quiet. Of course there was plenty of shopping opportunities to indulge in. More notable was the internal rail system to go from one end of the terminal to the other - usually done with moving walkways. It is something to remember but I was the only one on it and it seemed a little ostentatious.
After a spot of food, I found a few different places to sit and rest - there was a “quiet room” with reclining chairs which was a bit more comfortable for a lie down. The airport also makes great play of free wi-fi in transit which was pretty handy for checking my boarding time and gate. As I was checking the flight time, I noticed that my seat number had changed. As a result of my comments about my seat being assigned automatically, I had been told that there was a chance of an upgrade on the Dhaka leg - it seems the chance was not just a placation tactic.
I went to the gate to confirm and the soft introduction began. The queue was long to get in and completely not a queue. Not at all. I went to the desk/priority boarding to check but then one person just went straight in front of me to the desk and then another stood in front. This was at the “priority” bit where I was asking a question, but maybe they took it more literally. Waiting at the gate after this, the introduction continued as staff explained to different people that “you can't do that” as they pushed the door or tried to go past boundaries. It does not look like a fun job. I've always wondered whether I just thought that Bengali people talk louder because I understand it but I am now pretty sure that isn't the reason and the noise of people just having conversations was like listening to arguments.
The upgrade was very fortunate and insulated me from the noise and frustration that seemed certain earlier. In terms of the difference, of course the space was far greater and the service was very good with better food. I did not, however, have the benefit of a single-serving friend with whom to be convivial so there was that. The seat itself, with reclining flat and the screen to keep you entertained, reminded me very much of the lounge in a capsule hotel - but not the one that aped airline cabins. Also, people were sleeping and one particular person snoring was louder than all the kids on the first leg...
Landing at Dhaka was uneventful but the airport was not uneventful - it never is. Passport control was relatively short due to the fact that I got out fairly quickly but they spent some time doing paperwork and I'm pretty certain they took my picture without telling me when or where to look. Once past the first guy where I feigned ignorance of the language, there was another queue to give the immigration form to someone to be let out. This actually was a queue as it was a thin corridor but of course that didn't stop people pushing. Baggage reclaim made me feel pangs of nostalgia as it seemed unchanged from decades back and so looked a little tired. I don't mind it as it feels quite honest but it must hinder foreign investment when this is the first view of the country. There were a number of ripped and broken sections on the belt. I could not see how the process was managed but I waited at the baggage reclaim belts from the point suitcases came out and a full one hour after the first suitcases plopped onto the belt, I was still empty handed along with what seemed like most passengers. The belt itself was also empty as the baggage was brought out in instalments and with nice gaps between them so that the belt would empty (but not fill) a few times. I think I was in the fifth instalment which was after more than an hour.
It was frustrating so I thought it best to change the music I was listening to from the dark, dank electronica that I had been listening to to something a little more calming. As I had people waiting for me outside, I collected and moved on fairly briskly and then was greeted by what looked like a queue. After a few metres, it looked like two queues and then a few more metres later, three queues. And then, it looked like a scrum of people from all directions with trolleys and bags. All the baggage needed to then go past customs and was being scanned so all of the passengers then had to go through a single gate in order to be processed. With nobody queueing properly and tension high, this was not a pleasant experience but i eventually got near the front after thirty minutes or so with only a few bumps to my legs. As I went to the scanner, I noticed most were loading onto the luggage scanner and some were walking past - neither group seemed to be spoken to so I went past the scanner. Then, a man asked me where I had travelled from and with the answer "London" I was waved through. London is such a great answer, isn't it? Having landed at 10am, I left just before 1pm and the airport is not that busy. You could say it was eventful, but maybe it wasn't eventful enough.
It was frustrating so I thought it best to change the music I was listening to from the dark, dank electronica that I had been listening to to something a little more calming. As I had people waiting for me outside, I collected and moved on fairly briskly and then was greeted by what looked like a queue. After a few metres, it looked like two queues and then a few more metres later, three queues. And then, it looked like a scrum of people from all directions with trolleys and bags. All the baggage needed to then go past customs and was being scanned so all of the passengers then had to go through a single gate in order to be processed. With nobody queueing properly and tension high, this was not a pleasant experience but i eventually got near the front after thirty minutes or so with only a few bumps to my legs. As I went to the scanner, I noticed most were loading onto the luggage scanner and some were walking past - neither group seemed to be spoken to so I went past the scanner. Then, a man asked me where I had travelled from and with the answer "London" I was waved through. London is such a great answer, isn't it? Having landed at 10am, I left just before 1pm and the airport is not that busy. You could say it was eventful, but maybe it wasn't eventful enough.
Something that I am not particularly used to is being received at the airport, either at home or away, but this was due to happen - about an hour or two earlier. Apparently my cousins that were meeting me were not sure if I had left or not but had stayed around and greeted me which was a huge relief. It was longer than normal, and longer than they expected but still within the bounds of the possible. I grew to learn that in Dhaka, everything was.
I was happy to be collected by some cousins when I got outside at Dhaka airport for had that not happened, then whatever could happen next?
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