Firstly I would like to thank everyone for your comments and well wishes for my journey. It means a lot to know that you are all cheering me on!

Now to update you on trip so far:

SUNDAY 12.15pm – 12.45am (15 hours in the air)

FLYING: Flying a long haul flight is one of those necessary evils that you must endure if you wish to traverse to the other side of the world. There is a fugly side of flying for us “big” girls that no matter which way you look at it, is NOT good for the self esteem! If there was a way to plug my bladder for 24 hours I’d pay for it! Going to the toilet is an adventure I’d rather do without! Try as I may to suck in my tum and bum, as I sidestep down the aisle, I  cannot avoid bumping body bits against overhanging arms, legs and heads!  As if that’s not bad enough, sitting on the toilet is a frightful ordeal of knees squashed against the sink while looking at yourself in the mirror! 😨

Balancing food and drink in tiny containers on a fold down tray that doesnt quite fold all the way down is also lots of fun! And don’t ask me about sleeping on a plane – that is an impossibility for me! I  watched 5 movies but don’t remember anything about them and spent most of my time down the back of the plane asking for more water or talking to people waiting for the loo or doing stretches and jigs to try and keep my circulation going. I’m sure I must’ve  looked like some sort of demented nutter!

I was, however, happy to make the acquaintance of Juan ( pronounced Hoowaaaan!) A lovely flight steward with Royal Brunei Airlines! A very cute guy with the best smile. I flirted shamelessly with him and in return he gave me extra packets of Oreos when everyone else was asleep! And even tho I got off for 24 hours in Dubai, Juan was on the flight to London the next day and his delight at my return was hilarious! “Miss Annette, It’s you!” “Hooowaaan, it’s  you!” We exclaimed at each other like long lost lovers! He even gave me a hug goodbye and thanked me for being such a nice passenger. Pity he was gay eh?! 😝

MONDAY/TUESDAY  1.30am-2.00am

DUBAI: I arrived in Dubai at 1.30am and was immediately assulted by the humid heat and a city lit up like a Xmas tree. I snatched a few hours of sleep before embarking on a morning tour of the old city. Ishmael our tour guide was a smiley Pakistani who rattled off facts and figures about this ovewhelming city of sky risers and construction. The morning haze eventually gave way to an astringent sky and a temperature of 43 degrees. Climbing in and out of the air conditioned bus at various stops onto hot concrete and hot blasts of air, I was nearly wishing I  was back home in the cool of the Sth Gippsland winter! The museum was underground in the oldest fort in Dubai. It was a series of dimly lit static displays of mannequins and artifacts that were quite frankly scary! The gold souks and spice souks were not quite the exotic outdoor markets I had envisioned. They were just a huddle of jewellery shops with glass cabinets full of gaudy gold jewellery and they were manned by pushy sales attentendants urging you to come in and buy. I didn’t feel comfortable and I nearly got lost trying to find my way back to the meeting point.

After this tour I was going to go to one of the huge shopping malls that Dubai is famous for, but Ishmael convinced me to do the safari dinner tour instead. I was picked up at my hotel by another smiling Pakistani, Rashid, in a four wheel drive and we proceeded to pick up 2 young Korean  girls and 2 Italian girls from other hotels and then drove out into the desert. There were many other 4 wheel drives doing the same thing and we all converged at a service station where there were a couple of grungy souvenir shops, a camel to take photos with and an opportunity to quad bike over the dunes. We then traveled further out until there was nothing but waves of undulating orange sands as far as the eye could see! Suddenly our car left the road and we were plummeting up and down and across the dunes, red dust flying up around us. Being girls, we were all squealing and hanging on for dear life! Rashid just grinned went faster. We zig zagged amongst many other 4 wheel drives and i think it’s a miracle that there are no accidents! Next stop was a quasi bedouin tent camp where we were treated to a traditional Arabic bbq complete with potato salad and coleslaw! And for our entertainment, a Russian belly dancer and a bollywood style whirling dervish! Finally we drove back to our hotels with the radio blaring English rap songs interspersed with Arabic wailing hip hop. The temperature was still a mild 36 degrees!

WEDNESDAY /THURSDAY

LESLIE’S MOTHER: The relief of being with dear friends, Les and Carmel, in their familiar house in familiar English streets, in combination with the fact that I’d had a total of 4 hours sleep since leaving home, found me alternately between a blubbering mess, and talking like a runaway train! By 1pm I had hit the wall and went to bed and slept till 7.30am the next morning!

Wednesday  I ambitiously went for a swim at the local pool thinking that would loosen up my joints and aching muscles and get rid of my jetlag. I then went with Carmel to the supermarket. By 4pm I was ready for bed again! Les encouraged me to stay awake till a “proper” bedtime by engaging me in philosophical discussions  (my favourite!)

Still feeling quite jetlagged the next day, I nonetheless went with Les to take his mother (and her best friend) out for her 94th birthday. Apparently she was very keen to see me as she remembered  me well from my visit in 1985! Her first words to me were “Goodness it’s lovely to see you again but haven’t you put on an awful lot of weight!”😛

We went to a very English park where there were lots of trees, a duck pond, a cafe and hundreds of mums with bubs. After a very ordinary lunch (you do not go to England for the food!) we went for a little walk. Jean, (Leslie’s mum) insisted I take her by the arm and proceeded to tell me all that was wrong with the world today. Joan, (her friend) who was a feisty, British colonial Indian joined in the conversation enthusiastically. I listened with amusement as these two reinforced each others views that England was going to the dogs! Jean is one of those “proper” English women of old and Joan dolled up to the nines in green eyeshadow, painted fingernails and dripping with jewellery, a true  Maharani of old, (as she insisted.) The whole afternoon  was a lesson in listening and patience for me, a chatterbox of equal measure as these two! You see, in my day….