At the Airport

It seemed to be touch-and-go as to whether we would actually leave Abu Dhabi. And this is only a slight exaggeration.

When the company cancels your visa, it is obliged to repatriate you. Some companies give you cash, our company insists on booking the ticket. We made the request for a flight well in advance, and to say it was roundly ignored might be a little harsh. But it would not be inaccurate to say it was useless.




Paul's visa was cancelled on Wednesday, his last day was Thursday and in theory we should have flown out on Friday or Saturday, at the latest. But the bureaucracy that is a big government company couldn't get it done. We were stranded.

Leaving the country is a big game of hurry up and wait. Make sure you get your apartment clearance! But first get your electricity clearance! And then sell your car, but pay your tickets first (this held up the cancellation of Paul's visa -- and was totally my fault). Close the bank account, but how do you get your last payment? Where is the proof. It goes on and on.

So you rush to get all your documents in order and then ... you wait. You wait for HR, you wait for the travel department, you wait for who knows what.

What we did know was that we weren't getting out on Friday or Saturday. Or Sunday, for that matter, because it's the first day of the week and the flights to Los Angeles leave in the morning. So we were looking at Monday, and on the Etihad website, there were precious few tickets available for that flight. Would we be stuck till Tuesday?

Bear in mind, we had to be out of our apartment at the beginning of the week, and had emptied it of belongings even earlier. So it was three days of hotels and then what turned out to be five days of taking advantage of my kind cousins' offer to stay at their place.

How long was this to last? Our health insurance was cancelled when the visa was, and we had no set date to leave. It was unsettling and a bit aggravating.

So Paul called in the big guns, and went to an editor at the paper who can, seemingly, get anything done. And on a Saturday, she did. She found someone to book our tickets for the next morning and get us out of town in time for the holidays.

Our own personal Santa Claus.