Doha

Everything about this trip was a surprise. For every expectation, life gave us the complete opposite. The first unexpected event happened during our layover in Doha. A wise tip for travellers: double check your itinerary. Maybe even triple check. Just to be sure.

We got off the plane and walked through the airport, checking our flight time. I don’t know how we both thought our layover would only be a couple hours because—it was not a couple hours. It was ten. Ten. Hours. I don’t know if you’ve ever spent that long in an airport but I do not recommend it. Especially in a city where even though you’re in an air-conditioned building, just looking outside the window into the dry desert can make you feel like you’re drowning in humidity. So for us anyway, leaving the airport was not an option. We don’t do well in humidity.

Lucky for me, I had work to focus on. I spent my time writing my half-arsed philosophy essay for Uni while Lien napped, and once we’d both had enough of sitting, we grabbed some food and took our time to eat it. Everything we did, we did with the slowest pace, just to waste as much time as we could. I think we spent two hours eating pasta.

As we counted down the hours, we slowly lost our mind. It felt like the time we purposely pulled an all-nighter when we were teenagers because we thought it’d be fun and ended up eating leftover red velvet cupcakes at 5 am, then crashing at 7 am as soon as we reached the 24-hour mark of staying awake. How reckless were we, eh?

We laughed over everything and nothing and we’d officially gone mad. When the ten hours were up we were more than grateful to be back on a plane and on our way to Madrid.

To be continued . . .