My sister Rachel, her partner and one of Ian's best friends Bert, and nephew Seve, arrived yesterday to stay with us for a week.
As their flight was overnight, and realising the lack of sleep they would have had, we arrange for a 'nothing day' of chilling on Barasti Beach, eating and drinking the day away... Sadly, this was not how it worked out.
Meeting them at the airport was weird. The waiting area of Terminal 1, is outside by the road and full of every nationality waiting for people. There were those holding name placards waiting for business people to arrive, they do not know. There were a couple of men holding bunches of flowers, looking on and round others expectantly, and there were those, waiting for family just as we were.
I was excited; the thought of 'Seve cuddles' and that I had not seen him for three months was spurring me on. He is only 2 years and 4 months, so he changes every day and therefore, the time away is lost time for me - Especially as I used to live within 2 miles of them previously so I got to see him all the time. Oddly though, I hadn't realised how much I must have missed Rach. When she arrived I gave her a big hug and promptly burst into tears (yes, I know, PDA's are very much frowned upon out here, but when there are Emerati men kissing each other hello on the lips, I don't think a sisterly hug would have offended anyone)!
Rachel though, much to her embarrassment, managed to leave the alcohol and perfume that she had brought in Duty Free, on the plane. With her banging headache, we walked into the terminal and up a flight of stairs to Airport Police, who then told us to go back down the stairs, through the next building, down to ground floor and carry on to the third building. In there, we were to go to the lost and found.
The third building was old. Rather reminiscent of a terminal you see in the movies of a 1960's film with dark wood and marble floors. Here, we were informed that we had to go past the rows of rent-a-car cubicles to the elevator, take the elevator down one floor and turn right. We copied these instructions, but on going down to the lower level, we were taken to a windowless grubby room in white, with 4 office doors on each of the walls, and on all doors said 'Authorised Personnel Only'. Luckily for us, after a few seconds of 'should we, shouldn't we' deliberation, a man came out of one of the doors and after asking if he could help, herded us through the door to the right and another windowless corridor. He then ushered us into a small office with government officials. Here, within 5 minutes and after taking Rachel's passport copy, she was given back everything.
When we got back, we did the obligatory tour of the facilities and showed everyone where we lived. We wasted no more time in walking across the road to the beach as we had been building it up big time to Seve because he had wanted to stay by the pool and play on the climbing frame and slide at the building. So by the time we got there, Seve was full of "Daddy making sandcastles and me knocking them down again". Sadly though, when we arrived, we were told that as it is a bar, the minimum age is 21 and therefore, Seve could not come in unless we were eating in the restaurant. Gutted!
We went for lunch (more so the boys could have a few pints and I could have a cocktail) and looked out onto the ridiculously inviting beach. It really did feel like we were the donkey with a carrot being dangled on stick that we just could not reach! We then did that thing that parents and grown-ups do to kids, you know, when they back track massively and 'forget' what they had promised, rewriting the rules as they go, in the hope that the children won't notice. Whilst this may not work with an 8 year old, a 2 year old is a different matter, "And when we go back, we can go in the pool and you can play on the slide!" Bert said, steering him away from building sandcastles on the beach.
"Yes please...!" said Seve beaming. That afternoon was a pool afternoon, with Rachel and I trying to convince Seve to walk carefully around the pool for fear of him slipping over. Ian spent the afternoon either in the pool with Seve and Bert, or being dragged to the slides with Seve whilst Bert slept and Rachel and I just caught up.
Last night, after a day in the sun, Rach and I had a quiet night in whilst the boys watched the football at Barasti. Start as you mean to go on lads!
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