Watched “The Karate Kid” (Jaden Smith / Jackie Chan version) with the kids last night. Some bits were kind of weird and awkward, like the ‘relationship’ between Jaden’s Dre and the Chinese girl, some modern references were a suitable contextualisation of contemporary times and technology, and they did keep the critical elements of the original, most notably the last fighting scene with the Karate kid fighting on one leg.

Stayed up well past midnight to pack and spray paint 3 coats of lacquer on the kitchen cabinet doors. 

Discovered in the middle of the night that my period has arrived. Yay – all my pineapple eating, turmeric tea drinking, etc – have finally paid off. I was hoping to get my period over the weekend, so I will be free and clear by my race. No such luck. But at least the worst of my period should be over by race day.

Especially since the field is more competitive than I would have expected in Sharjah. Five pairs in our age group, three of which are faster than us and have qualified for Worlds before. I’d be curious to see the field in Taipei. Less competitive I expect, because Middle East is full of ‘foreigners’ / white people, whereas Taiwan would be more East Asians because the language would be a barrier. It is what it is. And anyway, HV is already qualified for WC, so I am surplus to requirements.

After listening to my usual playlist for days, I played my “Chinese retro”playlist this morning, and the boys were like: “What is this Mama, you have such poor taste in music.” I explained that these were Chinese songs from the 90s, from my youth. Most of the Chinese songs popular in the 90s were romantic love songs.

O prepared a French toast breakfast, while I did some pre-trip tidying – run a dishwasher cycle, threw out garbage and boxes. Then I dropped the boys off at AJ’s. 

Came home to finalise my packing, and realised I had entirely forgotten to check in for my flight! Quickly did that, and discovered problems checking in for my connecting flight to Manama, which I managed to sort at the airport. It was good to arrive at the airport in good time for the flight (which ended up being delayed anyway), managed to get some work emails done as well.

A long, tiring flight on Etihad, where I managed to at least catch two movies – “The Killer”, and “Juror #2”. One fun, action thriller, and the other a more thought provoking drama. Finished the flight with an episode of ‘House of Dragons’, Season 2. I’d like to try to watch Season 1 actually.

Because I only had 1 hour to transfer originally, and my London outbound flight was delayed, I had to sprint / jog across the entire airport shouting “excuse me, excuse me!”, as I saw “Last call” flashing red on the Departure boards. I really didn’t want to miss the last leg of my flight to Manama for my little rest and tourism enroute to Sharjah for the race. I arrived at the gate, lungs burning, gasping for air, and dripping with perspiration. 

The staff insisted on taking my wheelie bag into checked luggage as it was “a full flight”. I tried to argue a bit, but end up giving in, to my bitter regret. How could I have forgotten the first rule of travelling to dodgy countries? Never get separated from your baggage / stuff.

Basically when I arrived at Bahrain airport, because my luggage had been checked in, I needed to reclaim it at baggage reclaim, which was past immigration, whereas I had booked a hotel room on the airport side, on the basis that I could go straight to the hotel as soon as I got off the flight. Obviously I wasn’t thinking that far ahead after a short night and a long day.

So because I couldn’t check in for my Friday morning flight, and hence pass back through the check in gates, I couldn’t get back across the passport control to stay in my hotel. I was exhausted and distressed and started crying in the airport, and the staff member I accosted insisted that there was no way, and suggested I stay at the nearby Movenpick. I was like, it’s too expensive, and I’ve already paid for the other hotel. And I couldn’t even find my way out, nor see the Movenpick. And Apple Maps didn’t work well enough to give me formal walking directions, although it at least showed Movenpick on the map. So that’s how I ended up walking the streets, and airport parking lots of Bahrain, crying… while trying to find my way to Movenpick, All because I let myself be persuaded to be separated from my luggage.

What a shitty end to a long day.