I know of the cancellation only because of Nepalese news reports - and they're hardly mainstream. Although KUL flights are zeroed out on its website, passengers like me who've booked flights earlier aren't informed. I realize this isn't Air Arabia's fault - but the airline isn't blameless either. Scarcely two weeks before departure, I'm left stranded with the first leg of my round-the-world cancelled! Yikes. Now, this is usually the sort of amazing story that appeals to my funny bone, but being an affected participant in its aftermath puts a vastly different complexion on the matter. Little surprise then that a day before the inaugural flight, Nepal's government backs down and revokes Air Arabia's permit. For good measure, a protest strike also cripples Nepal's domestic flight schedule for days. As the launch date draws closer, protestors up the ante by threatening lawsuits, and a shut down of Kathmandu's international airport. ( KTM- KUL on which RA has a monopoly is apparently its most profitable route.) "Allowing Air Arabia is not only illegal and anti-national it is also an invasion of our sky," says a union leader, conveniently ignoring facts for liberal doses of jingoism. Unions working for Nepal Airlines claim the national carrier could be pushed to the brink of bankruptcy if Air Arabia's license isn't immediately cancelled. The weeks pass quickly, and as we slip into December, ominous signs start appearing on Nepalese news sites (which I'd taken to monitoring since my booking) that the yet-to-start Air Arabia 5th freedom route from KTM to KUL isn't sitting well with lawmakers in the fledgling Himalayan republic. I'm travelling around the world after all! (Taking a cue from how the world's richest country runs its economy, this is living testament that debt is so,so bad for you - but can be so,so good.) Throwing caution to the wind, a Christmas day Air Arabia flight to Sharjah is booked and paid for, and subsequently, another westbound flight from Dubai on Boxing day is confirmed via Expedia, and then another, and another - until I'm so way out on the other side of the planet, I might as well continue westward home. That's until mid-November when a posting on that fantastic website alerts me to the existence of one of the wierdest new LCC routes: from Dec 16, Air Arabia starts operating a daily flight from its Sharjah hub to Kuala Lumpur via Kathmandu! At 6,200 km, it's a really long haul on an A320, but the well-timed KTM stop affording a view of the Himalayas en route gets me excited, and into a route-planning mood again. A list of A380 machines flown that's currently short only of a Lufthansa check seems to dictate I opt for a Star Alliance RTW, but the ticket is so expensive I know I'll need to consider alternatives.Īs the year drags on with nothing booked, my circumnavigating experiment looks increasingly unlikely. I have some vague idea of a round-the-world trip, and a desire to deposit miles into my dwindling Star Alliance account - to maintain the illusion that I'm still a frequent flyer. The preparation for this most excellent of escapades starts early - in previous years, Christmas flights had already been booked and paid for by July. The one bright spot is this one last week of the year when the shackles are broken on humanitarian grounds, and I'm let out on parole. Work's got me grounded and chained to a desk for big chunks of 2010, while flying opportunities have been few and far between. It's been a rather hellish year in Kuala Lumpur. Somewhere along the way, I must have lost all sense of time - and place. A digital clock on the bedside flashes 7:25 but even that is meaningless: is it a.m. The cheap mass-produced furniture around me and flowery drapes suggest some rented accomodation, but provide no further clues. Are those mine? The Swiss Army parka and flip flops fleece gloves and scarf next to bermuda shorts? I have no idea. I'm lying in bed fully clothed, and strewn across the parquet is a motley collection of garments that look vaguely familiar but make no sense to me. I can't, for the life of me, remember how I got here. My mouth feels dry and my eyes, heavy, are hurt by stark flourescent lighting. Some situation comedy is playing, unintelligibly, on the wall-mounted TV. It must have been the sound of canned laughter that woke me.
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