Feb, 2024
It was 3 days before my trip to New Zealand. 3 days until the trip of a lifetime, at least so far, and I can’t wait. I was sitting on the couch in my sister’s apartment when my phone vibrates. „Your flight has been cancelled“.
Wait what? This must be spam or a bad joke. I know there were strikes going on right now at german airports but just this morning I got an email and a text message letting me know that my flights will be going as planned. I checked my emails again and there was a new one saying the same thing: Your flight has been cancelled.
I clicked on the link in hopes of support and clarity and mostly someone telling me that there was an error and my flight will in fact not be affected. I was led to a ChatBot, a pretty bad one by the way, that kept telling me that I cannot be helped. Great.
Instead of hanging out with my sister and our dog I called the airline‘s hotline and waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. 90 minutes later a really nice man picked up and told me that something must have gone wrong and my flights will leave as planned. „Hold on“, he said just as I was about to put the phone down, „my screen just refreshed. There is something… Oh yeah no, I‘m sorry, your flight actually has been cancelled.“ He could book me on a different flight, 2 days later, for 2100€. That‘s more than I payed for my return flights.
I was in pure desperation mode. And problem solving mode. I was on my computer working my ass off trying to find alternative flights. Obviously I couldn‘t just take a bus to get to the other side of the world within a couple of hours. I was looking at all the airports within 3 hours of me and still all the flights I could find were 1) freaking expensive and 2) going through any German airport (and there‘s strikes going on at all of them) or 3) leaving 2 or more days later as planned.
I was mentally preparing myself for having to make a decision. An expensive one, either way. Would I book one of these flights or would I not go?
I‘m really not religious, but right then I had a moment. There was a tiny little popup on google flights letting me know that there might be a flight for me leaving from Zagreb. I don‘t know why it never crossed my mind to put Zagreb into the search, but i clicked on the link in the popup and I saw this one option for 807€ that would get me to New Zealand around 12h later as I initially planned, so I would just spend the night on an airplane instead of a hotel. There was only one thing that kept me from booking instantly: I had a 26 hour layover in Doha, Qatar. I knew that if I wanted to go I had to book this flight right now. It was already close to midnight, I had a long day of work ahead of me and I really wanted to go. So I did. I booked it and decided to leave the rest for the next day.
The next morning I checked flights again. Prices went up double or triple compared to last night. If I had waited, there would be no way for me to go on this trip that I have been looking forward to the past months.
Alright, so, Doha. I knew just about where it was on a map. Was I sure I could point it out correctly? Absolutely not. I had zero idea about this country, so I started googling and looking at pictures. To me it looked a lot like what I imagined Dubai to be like, just a bit - or a lot - less touristy.
I had no clue what I was in for, and believe me, that actually means something. I want to see everything the world has to offer, with very few exceptions. One of these exceptions being North Korea.
So I kept on searching. „Is it safe for solo females to travel to Doha?“. „What to wear in Qatar“, „Do I need a visa for visiting Qatar“. I read every single post I could find on women traveling there alone and their experiences, which, like anything else, were mixed, of course, but mostly positive or at least without any major incidences. Good.
I booked a hotel. All the hostels had low ratings or were booked out, so I spent 150€ for one night somewhere in the city center. If you have backpacked before, you might know that the average price I pay per night usually hovers around 10-20€, depending on where I am. This hurt.
I kept on researching until late again, worked the next day and then packed my bags right after. I decided to swap out a pair of leggings for a pair of somewhat city-worthy joggers, so that I would have something more appropriate to wear in Doha. And at the last minute I squeezed a thin scarf into my backpack, just in case I needed to cover my hair in a mosque.
The Qatar Airways flight was heavenly. I could move my legs, had more than enough space for my luggage, and I was fed the best food I’ve ever had on an airplane. I hopped into a taxi, activated my sim card and marvelled at the brightly lit streets that were surprisingly empty.
As I got out of the taxi at my hotel, things were getting hectic. The taxi driver jumped out of the car to open my door. Another man sprinted around the corner to get my bags and carry them into the lobby for me. I talked to a different person at reception, and then another guy brought my bags to my room. One more accompanied me to the elevator, and the last one put my key card in and opened the door to my room for me. I had no words.
I squeezed into the elevator with an elderly couple, quite obviously from an arabic country. I was a little shy as I wasn‘t sure if it was okay for me to go in there with them or if it‘s better to wait, but they both smiled at me and waved me in. The man asked me which floor I wanted to go to, and then pressed the button for me. I was wedged in between the couple and politely stared at the floor. The woman kept fidgeting and sighing next to me, so I decided to look up to check if she was okay or if I did something wrong, just as the elevator came to a stop. She smiled the kindest smile at me, said something in broken English which I understood to be a „Enjoy your trip to our country“ and left the elevator.
The room was larger than my apartment back at home, I‘m not even exaggerating. 55 square meters, I asked the receptionist at check-out. There were no lamps on the ceiling. I had a bath tub and a shower. Two sinks and a toilet with a bidet. Two desks and a mini fridge filled with water, wine and snacks. I showered and fell into my bed - after I finally managed to uncover it from the 4 blankets and God knows how many pillows.
I was woken up in the middle of the night by what sounded like someone standing beside my bed screaming into my ear through the most powerful microphone on the planet and promptly fell out of my bed. As I finally managed to remember where I was and what was going on - it was of course the call to prayer - I looked at the time. It was 4 am. That‘s when I made the decision to sleep in and enjoy a slow morning.
This was surely the most chaotic start to any trip I have been on so far. In the end, everything worked out well. I was curious about what Doha had to offer and also very eager to finally get to New Zealand and get the „get out of a plane after 18 hours and straight into a rental car and drive on the wrong side of the road for the very first time“ part over with.
