Flight to Paradise? (3rd August 2006)

Eriyadu island

The main problem with holidaying on a desert island is getting there. My Trip to Eriyadu is good example. It seemed to take place in chunks of two hours, the first getting to Noi Bai Airport in Hanoi. I had toyed with various ideas, the bus was cheapest – 10p to Kim Ma and then 15p to the airport. But I was unsure where Kim Ma bus station was, or how long it would take. So I decided to play safe and go for a taxi. This would be just over £4 for the 30km journey.

I left the house at 8.30am with shoulder bag and suitcase. Then fate took a hand. On the corner was our favourite Xe Om driver. This guy is notorious for trying to dramatically overcharge us. This morning I waved him aside but he persisted in asking me where I was going, “San bay” I replied, he made an impersonation of an aeroplane – he had understood. 80,000 dong he said (£2.60) my response was automatic “No, 50” “70” he said. I stopped, looked at him with an incredulous expression and pointed to my enormous suitcase. No problem he said. I believed him, having recently seen two motorbikes one carrying six 20 litre barrels of beer and the other a three piece suite.

I slung my shoulder bag, put on my hat and climbed onto his bike. A bystander handed me the suitcase which was jammed between the two of us and off we went. It was fine, a cool breeze took off the heat and everything felt secure. However, when we had travelled a distance which should have cost 10 to 15,000 dong he stopped and motioned me to a minibus. Damn this communication business he was never going to take me to the airport! The bus doors were closing so I threw the bag in as a holding measure and with the minibus driver gunning the engine started to pay the beaming xe om driver. My expression clearly conveyed how I felt and he stopped me once I’d handed him 50,000, indicating I need not give him anymore. I glared at him one more time and jumped on the bus as it pulled away.

The bus fare was 30,000 dong, less than the xe om and for three times the distance! Still the overall cost was less than a taxi. I spent the rest of the journey, which was similar to the M1 at Watford Gap on a Friday afternoon, plotting my revenge.

So two hours after leaving the house I arrived at the airport. A very nice young lady from Singapore Airlines (I think they are cloned) explained that things were different here, whereas in Europe latest check-in is two hours before the flight in Hanoi check-in would not open until two hours before the flight. I sat in the airport doorway drinking water for an hour, along with all the other western passengers.

Check-in was painless, except for the debate about visas – you need a visa for the Maldives – no I don’t – yes you do – no I don’t. In the end it was agreed I could purchase one on arrival and my luggage was booked right through to Male. I now had virtually 2 hours in the departures lounge. I headed for security and just in time spotted the ‘traveller’s surcharge desk’ – departure tax by any other name. $14US to get out. I paid up and went through security where my house keys were taken from my bag and examined one by one, I have no idea why. Departures was largely empty, both of people and facilities. There are not that many international flights. It consisted of one completely empty, grossly overpriced restaurant and a series of duty free shops all selling exactly the same things. Less than half the retail units are let. I eyed up a single malt, not bad at half the UK price. I asked about taking alcohol into the Maldives, it is a Muslim state after all. A brief check brought the response that I could take 2 litres of spirits for my own use. I bought a bottle of Laphroig. I sat and read for the rest of the two hours before joining the short queue of economy class passengers watching the long line of business class passengers boarding. We left 15 minutes late for an almost 2 hour flight to Singapore where perversely the clocks were an hour ahead of Hanoi, despite the fact that we flew west. Then 2 hours wait in Changi Airport where I was amazed to find an O’Briens sandwich bar just like in Nottingham. Two gate changes to confuse me and onto the flight for Male. A four hour flight but we go back in time by three hours on the way so arrive an hour after we left if you get what I mean.

Singapore Airlines are very good, food and drink as good as any I’ve had on a plane and those amazing stewardesses. Is it the uniform of low cut tight bodice and long pencil skirt that makes them all look so attractive, or is there a bit of discrimination going on in the recruitment process? Surely all the women in Singapore can’t be that tall, that slim and have such long slender necks, emphasised by wearing their hair up? I lay back and drifted off for a while but was awoken by the young, large, Chinese tourist sitting beside me. He was snoring loudly and gradually sliding further and further onto me. His elbow was just balanced on the edge of his seat arm. I gently nudged it the last millimetre and he woke with a start an instance before his head would have crashed into my lap. He looked dazed, apologised and rolled over the other way – mission accomplished.

I woke up to the landing announcements, one in particular caught my attention – “you are reminded that it is illegal to take alcohol into the Maldives” Hmmm, does anyone actually know anything about the outside world in Vietnam? I decided to play it by ear and got through passport control after explained to the immigration officer that Vietnam was in Asia (?) the need for a visa having never come up. Then I realised I would have to come clean. Here they x-ray all your luggage as you leave the customs hall. As we waited for the carousel to start I wandered over to the nearest group of customs officers and explained my plight. They looked serious until I reached my conclusion – I had a bottle of alcohol I now knew I should not have brought. Then it was all broad smiles, not a problem I could just leave it with them. They would give me a receipt and I could collect it when I left. And that’s what I did.

Outside the airport its hot but not extreme, 29 degrees C, low humidity and an evening breeze – that feels good! I look along the line of tour reps, all waving their signs, for the man from AAA Travel, but there isn’t one. I walk out towards the road and a man walks up to me “Good evening Mr Couldwell, how was your flight?” How do they do that? He delivers me fifty metres to another man behind a Peanuts style psychiatrist’s booth, shakes my hand and disappears. The second man smiles and hands me a hotel registration card to fill out. He then walks me fifty metres to a boat and hands me over again.

There are five crew, an Inman – tomorrow’s Friday and the island has a mosque - and an Indian. I’m the last on board. The boat has 14 airline style seats. The captain walks over with a silver platter stacked with rolled chilled towels. He hands me one with silver tongs and as I wipe my face I can smell the strong odour of lavender. He returns with a bottle of mineral water which he opens with a flourish and hands to me and then returns again with the silver tray and tongues to take the towel away – they really are trying to emulate Singapore Airlines, but they won’t succeed unless they find a few slim amazons to hand out the water. His final visit is to brief me, the journey will take 45 minutes and the life jackets are on the overhead racks, then we’re off.

It’s a fast boat and we skim the flat sea at about 40mph with the nearly full moon reflecting off the surface. The lights of Male soon fade to be replaced by small clusters round the horizon – more tourist islands scattered across the Athol. They don’t mix tourism with the locals here. Only one of the 87 tourist resort islands has a bridge link to a local community. All the rest are separate. Another 11 tourist islands are planned to the same pattern. I slept for most of the journey and was met on the jetty at Eriyadu by a receptionist who walked me to the main building for a welcome cocktail before showing me to my room. I dumped my bags on the floor and just climbed into bed. My journey to paradise had lasted 16 hours.