And so it begins.
Almost a year after jotting down my first thoughts about how and where I wanted to turn 50, I'm typing this at a white marble desk, looking out over a sun-drenched water garden studded with palm trees, Arabic domes and dancing fountains. Shocking green parrots occasionally wing by. Two weeks of luxurious repose in exotic locations follow.
How did I get here? And what's on the agenda?
The first big decision was to party, or to travel. Had I won the EuroMillions, I would have been the type to jet my nearest and dearest off to a Morroccan Riad, French Chateau or Italian Villa for a house party to live in legend. But such funds are not kicking about, and it was just three years ago that I entertained all those people in style at my wedding. (Held, to maximise celebration and minimise forgotten anniversaries, on my 47th birthday.) So, no party. Nice trip instead.
But where? It had to be someplace exotic, that wouldn't come into consideration for a "normal" holiday. (Goodbye Europe and anywhere in the USA.) It had to be somewhere I hadn't been before. (Sorry Mauritius, South Africa, Botswana and much of the Caribbean.) I needed dependable sun. (The rainy season eliminated Thailand and Vietnam, Hurricane season the undiscovered Caribbean.) Political stability was rather important. (Killing the original No. 1 choice, my Nile cruise.) Inevitably, I needed some history, culture and architecture along with my luxury.
After months of research and price comparisons ... and a final head-to-head comparison with cooking school in Jordan, followed by Petra and the Dead Sea ... the final agenda fell together like this.
Four days and nights in Oman, based at the Chedi in Muscat. Here's my culture and history, with venerable souks, ancient mountain fortresses, impressive mosques and a famous new opera house. Plus some interesting local cuisine.
On to the Maldives, where ... from a long list of luxury resorts that all look very similar ... the Constance Moofushi won my heart and tourist budget. Partly because we had a magnificent honeymoon at their sister property, and partly because they do 5-star all inclusive packages. And I'd been warned by those in the know that food and drink at Maldivian resorts can double or triple the hotel bill.
We took a sleepless overnight flight from Heathrow, certainly no fault of Oman Air, who probably provided the best "cattle class" experience I've had. Certainly, it was the equivalent of business class on American. We were just too wired to sleep. And so it was up to the minstrations of the pool attendants at the Chedi to ease us through jet lag. Helped by the GM, who welcomed us personally and sent a bottle of wine and birthday cake up to the room while we were poolside.
This is all starting very well...
.
No comments:
Post a Comment