Transit in Doha

7 hours elbow-to-elbow in a confined space: who you sit next to on a plane makes a big difference.

A few years back leaving Nairobi on the overnight flight those of us waiting to board, half asleep were disturbed by a very overweight, sweaty Sudanese man shouting into his mobile phone whilst grappling with armfuls of plastic bags. Once onboard I was relieved to see him go further down the plane, but only momentarily as the air steward brought him over and pointed out the middle seat next to me. He was actually rather a sweetie, he'd never flown before and needed to be talked through basics like putting on his seatbelt all the while describing his cousin in London, as he was sure that being from England I would have seen him around at some point. Later when the person in front reclined their seat so it rested on his round belly he looked shocked and upset, 'but why???' He asked, suddenly so hemmed in he was practically pinned to his seat, before taking the initiative and bellowing 'No!' before pushing it back upright.

For last night's flight I found myself alone over 3 sears and relished the idea of being able to lie down. Turns out trying to lie down isn't as comfortable as I remember and I found myself wide awake until we landed in Doha. On the second flight to Dhaka I was one of a handful of women....surrounded by Bangladeshi men returning home to see their families after a year or longer working in Qatar. One young man was about to see his parents in person for the first time in 11 years.

I've had chaotic arrivals before, been forgotten and left behind (twice in active war zones!) and struggled to work out systems for getting visas and entry in immigration bureaucracies around the world (Washington Dulles was the longest wait, newly independent South Sudan the most unfathomable, and Liberia's the scariest involving bribes) The visa and immigration system in Dhaka was a mystery to be so I just smiled and politely asked for lots of help and spent a lot of time in queues. The hotel taxi pick up was a nightmare though - they called me 11 times whilst I was sorting my visa until finally the immigration police asked to speak to them. They told the police they'd come and collect me from the visa desk - lucky for me, my travel instincts kicked in and I ignored that message as it was completely wrong and I finally found the driver.

Dhaka traffic is something to behold - tuktuks and rickshaws piled hike with goods and people competing with seriously dented municipal buses and flashy SUV, and in the midst of the horn honking crawl crawl zoom for 50m crawl crawl.... someone drives a donkey cart through the middle in the opposite direction, an elderly man in PJs and slippers propped up with a walking stick steps out in front of a bus and is hauled to safety by passers-by in the nick of time and mopeds weave in and out..... our 15 minute ride from airport to nearby hotel took 1.5 hours and I have to back there at the crack of dawn. Bangladesh is going to be interesting........