Daniel*##..I mean Dougie, picked me up in an Audi TT, wee white sports car, which, if you half shut your eyes, could have been an Astin Martin. And obviously there's no point in half shutting your eyes at Dougie as he's much better looking than Mr Craig and condsiderably younger at 23.
This all suited me very well as we made haste along the boulevards of Dubai to his 34th floor apartment. I flattened myself to the windows and peered cautiously over, (or vaguely in the direction of) the balcony. That's pretty high up there on the 34th floor. His appartment block has a concierge and looks like a posher hotel than the one I'm staying in. And it has a swimming pool. He took me out for dinner, through the cleanest, safest Souk I ever saw. Dubai has tried to recreate the Souks of Marrakesh, but with no smells, no noise and no danger. That aint a Souk like wot Spook and I encountered in Morrocco. And I probably wont even get food poisoning.
Dougie was a tonic to his old Aunties abandonment by the flight schedule, and it was nice to see that, whilst enjoying the life he's leading at the moment, he has no illusions about it.
I am safely deposited back in the hotel, having seen the biggest building in the world, heard about the biggest mosque, the biggest carpet and passed the only 7 * hotel in the world. That's how they do it out here.
I'm ready to start the next leg of my journey, but unfortunately it's not quite ready for me. It's still more than 5 hours til my flight. I wonder what services there are for women in Bankok. Manicures? Pedicures? Jetlagicures? I had no money for Dubai and £8's worth of Bankok money. Bet you can buy a lot for your money with that.
No comments:
Post a Comment