Kuwait > Flight to Kuwait

Although I had a short night, I am awake before the alarm goes off. When I open the curtain, I see a large tanker carefully docking next to the ship. The liquefied natural gas is being replenished. I take a shower, pack my hand luggage, and check the cabin one last time to make sure I haven’t left anything behind. Then I head to the breakfast restaurant. Here, I meet the same British couple who sat next to me in the theater a few days ago. They are temporarily living in Qatar. They think it’s wise that I cancelled my rental car and will be traveling around Kuwait by taxi instead. They still have one more day of cruising ahead. Tomorrow, in Doha, they will disembark. After breakfast, I take one last walk around the ship. I pass the swimming pool for the final time, then head toward the exit. I’m a bit early for my 10:10 a.m. time slot, but that doesn’t seem like a problem. Still, a red message appears at checkout. I need to close my account. Due to changes in my excursion package, I am owed some money. At the desk, I learn that they cannot refund it to my credit card—probably because my bank has blocked it as a precaution. Instead, I am handed €4.70 in cash. Inside the terminal building, all the luggage is laid out. I find my suitcase near the sign for section 32. I quickly transfer my liquid toiletries from my hand luggage to my main bag. Outside the terminal, I am immediately approached by a taxi driver. “Taxi?” I am a bit cautious as he leads me toward a parking lot instead of one of the waiting cabs. He explains that the taxi queue was very long, and that the higher starting fare is due to the port pickup surcharge. So far, it all sounds plausible. A little later, when I arrive at Terminal 2 of Dubai Airport, the fare comes to 72 dirhams—about €20. I had expected more. The driver rushes off, probably trying to get another fare from the port. Since everything went so smoothly, I end up being extremely early at the airport—my flight isn’t for another four hours. Fortunately, I can already check in my main luggage. There’s no queue, so it’s quick. Once I’ve also passed through passport control and the hand luggage check, I find a seat and take out my book. Time passes slowly. I order a coffee and a snack.

Kuwait - The airplane is ready for departure to Kuwait

Here, my credit card works fine—luckily, since I have no local currency left. Before the flight, someone sits down next to me. We strike up a conversation. His name is Ayyoob, originally from India, and he has been living in Kuwait for 31 years. He is the regional manager of a supermarket chain in Kuwait. Before I know it, he is offering me all sorts of things: Does he need to arrange a driver for me? Would I like to go out to eat with him? Should he have a SIM card with internet brought to me? He’s a kind man, but I’m not entirely sure how to handle this. At the very least, it seems he can get me to my hotel. When he hears it’s the Oasis Hotel, he considers it a mediocre place. I already suspected as much—he is clearly used to more luxurious hotels. I sit in the front, Ayyoob a bit farther back. I decide to see how things play out. As we take off, I watch Dubai grow smaller beneath us. We fly mostly over the Persian Gulf. Below, I spot several oil tankers and offshore drilling rigs. Kuwait is one hour behind, so we land at 3:20 p.m. In the arrivals hall, I show my visa to immigration. They send me on to the “police.” Among the immigration officers, there is one policeman taking fingerprints. My photo is also taken. Then I step into Kuwait proper. At the baggage carousel, I meet Ayyoob again. Once we have our luggage, he leads me outside, where his driver pulls up. Ayyoob complains again about my hotel—bad hotel, bad neighborhood, small rooms, he grumbles. Shouldn’t he book me another one? I promise him that if I feel uncomfortable at the Oasis Hotel, I will call him and he’ll come get me. I’m dropped off at the back of the hotel. Ayyoob comes inside with me to check if there’s anything that needs to be paid in Kuwaiti dinars—I don’t have any yet. Meanwhile, he tells the receptionist to give me a good room! He presses his business card, with “Regional Manager” printed on it, into both men’s hands. They look a bit puzzled.

Kuwait - The colorful fountain in front of the mosque

Meanwhile, they copy my passport and visa. I get a room on the fifth floor with a view over Kuwait City. In the distance, I can see the Kuwait Towers—the spherical water towers that are the city’s symbol. In the early evening, I head into the city. I exchange €50 for Kuwaiti dinars. Then I walk into the Al-Mubarakiya souq. The streets are beautifully lit, and there’s a pleasant buzz on the streets. When I head toward the Grand Mosque, it gets quieter. For long stretches, I walk alone with traffic rushing past. I decide to return toward the souq. A line of cars waits for the parking garage, meaning more people are still arriving to shop. It’s getting busier and busier. I wander through the alleys. To my surprise, no one tries to sell me anything—probably because few tourists come here. In fact, hardly anyone even looks at me. Only an occasional nod. On a small square with tables, I decide to have dinner. Ayyoob had earlier said that you can eat very well in Kuwait. I ignore this advice and order a pizza. That’s what I feel like.