Hours of Fun in Bahrain Airport

An Extended Stopover in Bahrain – January 1999

This follows on from To South India; our aeroplane stopped off in Bahrain airport to refuel and for the package tourists to buy more booze, and upon taking off again developed a fault and had to turn and re-land. Our trip was delayed by a day in Bahrain, but this turned out to have some intriguing moments.

The cabin crew had announced that we would be stopping at Bahrain, and we then saw a video showing us all the delightful things we could buy in the transit lounge there: essentially yet more booze.

We all therefore dutifully got off at Bahrain, dutifully for the duty-free, but we personally did not buy anything, unlike others of our fellow travellers whom we saw carrying yet more plastic bags containing bottles in boxes.

We sat and watched the great diversity of people in the airport lounge: men in jellabiyas; splendid-looking Arab men with white tunics and head-dresses; women dressed all in black; men with red and white tea-towels on their heads; plus Indians in saris and people in various forms of Western dress from suits to T-shirts.

We didn’t buy any duty-free and were soon called back to the aeroplane for the four-and-a-half hour flight to Trivandrum.

The plane had reached cruising height and people were being served yet another gin and tonic, when we seemed to hit some serious turbulence and the captain told the crew to stow the trolleys.

A few minutes passed and then the captain announced that he had had to drop swiftly to 12,000 feet because the cabin had depressurised; the auxiliary had cut in so it didn’t feel any different to us, but anyway we couldn’t go to Trivandrum like that so we were going back to Bahrain.

Monarch Airlines Cabin Crew

The Monarch Airlines crew were very easygoing and relaxed. The pilots sounded like insurance salesmen more than ex-RAF and the cabin crew couldn’t have got into BA because the women were too dumpy or, in the case of one of them, her ears stuck out so dramatically that we could have used her to land the plane in an emergency (another emergency). The men were mostly camp and Irish.

The story of our extended stay in Bahrain airport continues with There’s a Signage Fault.

A Day at the Hilton

We spend a day at the Hilton Hotel, Bahrain – January 1999.

This follows on from There’s a Signage Fault that described how we were waiting in Bahrain airport after our aeroplane had broken down, and an announcement said we would be taken to a hotel for the day.

We would be taken to a hotel until 7.30pm local time. It was now 11am. We joined a queue, which moved barely at all because midday prayers had just been announced over the PA system.

At last, some sleep.

Eventually prayers finished and a string of buses arrived to ferry us through the clean skyscrapered streets, while we watched men with tea-towels on their head and black-clad women in their Japanese cars with curtains at the rear window.

Into the Hilton Hotel where we were given a room and told that lunch, free, would be at 2.30 in the banqueting room. It was now about 1pm.

We went immediately to bed and fell fast asleep. We had been needing some sleep for at least the past twelve hours and had so far been failing to find any. Now at last we could.

Oriental Platter, Dinner at Eight.

5pm, we got up feeling a little hungry and went downstairs to see what was going on.

Our pick-up time had been put back to 9.30 and dinner, free, would be available in the banqueting room at 8.

We went into the hotel café and ordered something called an Oriental Platter. We could have had fish and chips or a steak sandwich, but we thought we might prefer an oriental platter; it consisted of hummus, a hummus-like substance made from aubergine, sometimes called aubergine caviar, and a tabouleh that was predominantly fresh parsley. With a basket of pitta bread, this was fantastic, and we thought that with any luck the aeroplane would get delayed even longer and we could get to know Bahrain better.

After our wonderful meal we went for a walk in the streets. This, we had been told, was not allowed, no doubt because we did not have a visa for Bahrain, but we decided to look invisible. But by now it was dark, cool and windy, so in a town of skyscrapers where everyone seems to drive a car this was not enormously interesting.

We arrived back at the Hilton at about 7.45 and were surprised to find that dinner was already underway. The package tourists had probably been queuing.

Dinner was OK, a buffet of fish, chicken, beef and pasta served from chafing dishes, with various salads. Something for everyone, to excite no one. We discovered by talking to people that lunch had been similar and that most people had had it. Do these package tourists never sleep?

The story continues with Discarded Boxes in the Airport Lounge.

Discarded Boxes in the Airport Lounge

Bahrain Airport as the Day Comes to a Close – January 1999

This follows on from A Day at the Hilton, the Hilton Hotel in Bahrain where we spent the day sleeping, primarily, after the aeroplane we were travelling in developed a fault. Back in the airport we watched as Pakistani guest workers unwrapped their duty-free hi-fi and the package tourists queued, well what else do they ever do?

Back into buses to be taken back to the airport.

The Monarch aeroplane, or rather a Monarch aeroplane, a different one from that which had broken down, was at the embarkation tunnel but not announced on the departure screens.

We sat and watched the late night passengers departing. Most of the Arabs had gone by now. Now it was Indians and Pakistanis. Migrant workers going home, most had bought a duty-free Brixton briefcase, which they appeared to have bought in the airport duty-free shop.

Presumably the next obstacle in their lives would be convincing the customs official in Karachi that they had not just bought it duty-free, and to this end the discarded the wrapping and did a bit of minor impromptu scuffing-up. No doubt there was a dodgy backdated receipt tucked away in their tunic somewhere.

When the flight for Karachi was called, the now half-empty departure lounge was awash with discarded boxes and wrapping.

But Where Are Our Fellow Passengers?

Oh yes, of course, queuing for the aeroplane, whose departure had not even been announced yet. And why? We all have booked seats haven’t we?

Actually no, as we discovered as the last people to board. It was a different type of aeroplane. Bigger, but people had been spreading themselves out across the rows of three. And being the last ones on we could not find two seats anywhere close together, except where the crew had reserved for themselves in the rear of the plane. They unreserved a couple of seats for us, to avoid disappointment, and to avoid having to ask anyone to move over to make room.

Off We Go Again

Off we go again, up in the air, the cabin crew being incredulous that we declined a gin and tonic, which was now free on account of the inconvenience. Everyone else so far as we could see had one, many people grabbing two.

One of the reasons for the additional delay was that the airport at Trivandrum did not open until 8am, so we couldn’t take off until 4½ hours before that, at 2.30am Bahrain time.

Another airline meal of dry, squeaky chicken, and by the time that was all cleared away we got about an hour’s snooze before looking out of the window at the palm trees and white beaches of southern India.

The story continues with This is India.