I cannot decide which version of the story I like best. Both accounts are truthful. You choose.

It was very funny last night. Firstly the airport police man who helped me ring the hotel to tell the driver to come and pick me up wanted a tip. He was so appealing I nearly gave in. As always in these situations  I never  know if I should tip or not so I decided not to.

Secondly the driver came and took me to a hotel building that looked nothing like the website photo. During the drive he  kept coughing and I wondered if he had Tb. It was just a random thought that floated through my brain.

Thirdly none of the hotel staff could understand English so they kept ringing the manager who also had trouble with my accent. He told me if no-one could understand me get them to ring him for help.

My $33 room was very basic but clean. There were no coffee or tea making facilities in the room but there was an en suite. When I got into bed there was so much noise coming in from outside  I wondered how I would ever sleep. Traffic, horns, bells, roosters and dogs. Next minute the manager was in the lounge next to my room having a conversation with someone. Too much. Then I remembered my ear plugs, stuck them in my ears and drifted off to sleep in relative quiet.

I woke up a few times but slept about seven hours. The Muslim call to prayer woke me up just before five and then some Hindus started their worship.
When I looked out the window the next morning the hotel was right beside a flyover at about the same level as my room.

I had a shower and then my breakfast turned up. I was not going to eat the toast but my favouritism fruit jam came with it so I spoiled myself.

One of the hotel staff helped me get a taxi and I was at Lochumlos house by 9.30am.

The view from the hotel window with the blue and white flyover to the left of my room.
 

The neurosis started when the hotel sent a car to pick me from the airport.

“Do you have id,” I asked the nice young man.

“No mam,” he replied politely.

With uncharacteristic bluntness I said “How do I know you are not a terrorist?”

He did not know what I was saying but he knew I was concerned. So he rang the hotel owner who calmly told me that this man was his driver.

“Very fine,” I said.

Then I thought to myself what happens if the man on the end of the phone was a terrorist? Ki korbo?

About this point I was regretting reading the article my good friend Gwen gave me to read about avoiding mishaps when you are travelling.

I seated myself in the car and off we drove. I was looking at where we were going and thinking oh I do not recognise where we are.

We ended up in a part of town I had not been before, off the main drag to the airport. There were many trucks centre parked and the area looked very rundown.

“I hope this doesn’t end in tears,” I said to myself.

I signed in to the hotel and was taken to my room which was clean but basic. It was only $33 a night.

By this time it was 12.30am so I went to bed bolting and locking the door and checking the windows were latched. There was a cacophony of sound coming into the room. Even though I had been sleepless for 24 hours the traffic, the dogs, the roosters were making too much noise. At least there were no mosquitoes.

Then I remembered my ear plugs. Thank goodness for ear plugs. They blocked out most of the noise.

I slept but woke up again at 5am. I started to pray but then fell asleep again. At 7.30 I woke up and decided to get up.

I turned on the unit to heat the shower and then checked my emails. I realised I had not told my friend where I was staying. If I disappeared who would know?

Breakfast came at 8am and the neurosis started to build. What happens if my tea is drugged? I consoled myself that at least I would be clean if I was kidnapped.

Half an hour later I checked out, found a taxi and after forty-five minutes of uneventful driving reached my friend’s house.

And the moral of this story……??? I think it has something to do with travel articles!!! And letting your imagination run away with you. And not trusting God.

PS the story is a bit tongue in cheek. I have overdramatised my neurosis for dramatic effect. There was never any moment in real life that I felt unsafe.