Hello, Dubai. Goodbye

Getting out of one’s comfort zone is easy – all you have to do is to buy an airplane ticket, preferably with the frequent flyer points. Airlines don’t like this kind of bludging but cannot stop it.  They grudgingly put you on a plane, usually in the least popular seats available, and make sure your flight connections are as uncomfortable as possible.

You’d think that, with the half of our planet up in smoke and another half moaning and groaning about hard times, nobody would have enough cash to travel. Not on your nelly, mate. Wherever we went there was not enough space to drop an apple on the floor, let alone to swing a cat. Crowds are everywhere. Looks like everyone decided to take a gander at what neighbours are doing, all at the same time. Planes are full of screaming babies, cheerful backpackers, stoic retirees and surprisingly edible food; airports are chaotic but coping somehow, security is tighter than urethral spasm in a man over sixty, taxi drivers smugly smile…