Glamorous shops and restaurants, exquisite cultural artefacts, breath-taking scenery ... well, maybe not this time!
SUE McPHERSON, part of a UK-based medical team, shares their story and photos of a repatriation they undertook recently. Although not your average run-of-the-mill excursion, we reckon the story will be familiar to some of you, but can you guess where this all took place? The answer's at the bottom of the page, but no peeking till you've read Sue's harrowing tale!
Double nurse trips are always fun. Well, usually. A better description for the one I was assigned along with Craig McColm would be memorable! But where in the world were we setting off to? You may - or may not - recognise it.
Checking this country's website confirms that we need visas. The Embassy switchboard bids me to press various buttons which take me back to the original message. The website says visas take seven-to-ten days and we need to travel in two. This is not looking good.
On the Internet we find a company which purports to arrange visas in one day ... the call is answered by a girl in the middle of a coughing fit who eventually says that the man who arranges this is on holiday until May. For this service I am robbed of £9.42 in premium call charges.
We resolve to go to the Embassy in London, armed with all the correct paperwork, some dodgy photos and consummate charm.
All for a stamp in our passports
The front door is smart, but a grubby notice directs us down a side-street where a shabby door descends down a staircase festooned with electric cables. The room at the bottom is windowless. At 9am it is heaving with confused adults and crying children. We take a ticket and sit down.
The filthy floor is littered with discarded food and crisp packets. At one side, the floorboards are ripped up and piled against the wall ... health and safety considerations are obviously not an issue here. Red "scene of crime" tape cordons off one area - we ponder what might have happened. The toilets are indescribable.
Eventually our number comes up. As I start explaining why we need the visa today, I am treated to a withering look and a curt, "I am able to read the paperwork". So I hand over £142 and am given a slip which says to return at 4.30. Elated, we leave the dingy building to while away the hours before collecting the passports, now stamped with the precious visa.
Time travellers
The next day, we enjoy the luxury of the lounge at Terminal 5 before our Boeing 747 delivers us to our destination, but this is no tourist resort. Our co-respondent will take us to the hotel. I ask how far away it is. "Not much far" is the reply, but gridlocked traffic means it takes an hour and a half to drive 15 miles.
Horns continuously blast in fruitless attempts to get from A to B. Curiously there are many large executive four-wheel drive vehicles with blacked out windows: clearly there is money here.
The roads are a series of craters interspersed with the odd bit of tarmac. When it rains, the craters fill up so it is like being on a dead slow roller coaster as the cars lurch into murky water.
All the mod cons
Eventually we arrive at a rather dubious looking hotel, our preferred option being full. I ask to see the rooms before committing ourselves. The narrow corridors are painted orange and a sticky brown carpet covers the floor. The large rooms have thick bars across the windows. We are assured the glass is bullet proof so we will be very safe.
The bathroom boasts "complimentary" hot water. There is a bank of UK-style three-pin plugs, a kettle, tea bags and coffee, but a stern sign says "not to be used for appliances". The telephone permits outgoing calls ... but it is broken!
We visit our patient. The hospital is modern and our patient has been beautifully cared for. We meet a very polite doctor, assess our patient, talk to the family about the journey and return to the hotel.
A night on the town
The restaurant is a fug of smoke and deafening noise, the TV blaring with an English football match. There is nowhere else to go so we order our food - everything is "freshly cooked", a euphemism for a "long wait". When the food arrives, one hour later, it is cold. A bottle of decent red, extortionately priced, helps to lift our spirits.
Time for bed. My colleague has a room with a window overlooking the stairwell, mine faces the front affording a cacophony of motor horns and screeching brakes all night. No gunshots though.
Day tripping
Breakfast is a prolonged affair and we take the time to plan the day. Cloudy skies above and the absence of a swimming pool scupper my plans and my mood lowers.
Someone suggests shopping and our driver takes us to a mall where there is "everything you could possibly want to buy". It takes 10 minutes to circumnavigate the entire place and discover there is nothing worth buying.
We have a very passable coffee and tart in a smart cafe, however, although it sets us back US$21. There is a cinema, but despite lots of films advertised, everything we fancy has "just finished".
Returning to the hotel, we decide to have a nap and then meet up for lunch, but it is fumigation day so we are not allowed back into our rooms. We return to the restaurant, where the menu proposes "goat soup" and "shredded snail stew". We become instant vegetarians and opt for spiced rice with a piece of bone described as "chicken".
Down to work - what a relief!
Fortunately it's time to return to the hospital and on to the airport. The ambulance is clean and well equipped, but the driver thinks he is at Silverstone as we squeeze through the traffic. Blue light and siren blazing, nothing moves for us. In fact, cars try to cut us up. We hit at least one car and bounce off the central reservation - and no-one but us notices.
It is quiet and peaceful in the plane. The BA crew are excellent and we have an uneventful flight home. We ponder the next destination ... safe, dependable Benidorm sounds grand.
So where were we? If you haven't guessed, click here to find out the answer.