26th June 2012: So it was time for ET to leave Oman.  Yes, and it is all good bye to all in the Sultanate.    Tomorrow we leave to The Netherlands.  ET and us.    So much to do on this side.  Just to make sure that when ET is back as a Homo Sapien, the home is ready.  The process in The Netherlands will be to transform ET to a Homo Sapien.  

Packing to leave is strange. Cannot imagine that our apartment will remain closed for months to come.  In what state the apartment will be when we return is to be seen. We are allowed 60Kgs between us, but will not have that much to carry. But I am certain when we are back, ET will be carrying a whole load of things. From nappies to prams and everything that goes in between there.  Making the house ET ready when we are back is also a tedious exercise.  And, considering the fact that we live in ‘sand-land’,  where sand is the hardest thing to keep out.  One sand storm and the entire place looks like a rhapsody in  powder coating.  

So, all our bags are packed….and ready to go.   We reach  Muscat International Airport at 2.40am.  Flight to Dubai is at 5 AM.  I am always amazed how airports function.   They never go to sleep. So it seems.  Bags everywhere going to places that have names that most of cannot even pronounce.  According to the FTA, a pregnant woman is supposed to provide a Flight Fitness Certificate after the 24th month of pregnancy.  The question is, how are they to know? Do  they look at every women who might have just a belly and ask, 'Are you pregnant?' (which obviously, can have  dire consequence, such as someone being hurt!), or do they expect people to be all nice and honest about everything.  Like, 'Hello, I just want to inform you that I am pregnant and here is my Flight Fitness Certificate...and oh!  I also plan to hijack this plane'. Well...we were the nice people, and told them that Ingrid was pregnant and produced the FFC.  And No!  We had no plans of hijacking the plane!


The flight to Dubai was absolutely useless.  Uncomfortable, bumpy, cramped and noisy too. For Christ's sake, was it the Wright Brother's plane we were on?

Dubai: Always lives up to it reputation.  A reputation to show off.  The airport is big,  grand and braggy!  Typical.  I do remember once seeing the Ruler of Dubai,   Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum (oh, throw in a ‘his highness’ and a ‘sheik’ or ‘captain of the camel brigade’ before his name!) on BBC.  He was boastfully saying he wants to be the first and the best in everything. He was getting arse over tit about it.  A bit of a marble he is. Still, he has done everything with opulence and grandeur.   The Dubai airport is not short of it.  Every corner, you have a caviar bar.  After all, we need our caviar and stewed monkey brains even during transit. Or else, I might get an anxiety attack.  That is Dubai.  We are in transit for 3 hours or so.  The walk to the next terminal to catch our flight to The Netherlands is on the other end of the desert.   We make it. Sit down for a coffee and the it is time to board. Board we do.  A  much better aircraft. A Boing 777-300.  I am a serious Boing  fan.   The Airbus cannot hold a candle to it.  Inside the plane we have the rear most seat on the right side.  Perfect!  Just that we have to do with the tail-wagging.  The flight is rather decent to Amsterdam and the food was good I must say.  AT 39,000 ft it must have been an experience for ET.  That is 11.89 Km.   



It is also worth mentioning how people are in a hurry to get off the plane.  The moment the plane touches down, every is up on their feet.  As if the plane might just go off like a bus.  Absolutely funny.
We landed at Schipol and go through passport control, get out bags and then want to savour a cup of decent coffee.  How welcome the weather was.  A cool 19 degrees.  I had to take a walk out and soak some air.  Did take some pictures too.  The difference between Schipol and Dubai is simple. The former has so much life and character in its functioning, and the later is cold, corpse like...just like the desert.