Beyond the triple glazed glass dome of the airport unfamiliar long legged birds duck and strut on the white sand encroaching the 5 lane highway. White cuboid houses outface the sun. Men and women are to transit through separate checkouts. It is Ramadan. There will be no eating or drinking in public places.The aircraft cabin's tinnitus sounds give way to the sun's glare. This is the kingdom of Bahrain. I am comforted by the Western sounding syncopated rhythm of my suitcase wheels on the moireed marble tilecracks as we trundle tiredly towards exit 11 departure for Bankok.
Bankok airport. We have 2 hours to kill. Starbucks and café Nero beckon tourists and travelers but, hey, we head for the magic cafe in the bowels of the airport frequented by airport staff and knowing public. Despite keening reeling heads, half days and nights rollicking with unanticipated sunrises we feast on gracious Thai delights – fiery crab soup, papaya spicy beef, fragrant mushrooms and dark barbecued fish before boarding for Hanoi.