Sophie’s World

When we were in Dubai in April, we travelled with Norwegian Airlines. Norwegian is a budget airline and operates from Dubai Airport’s Terminal 2.

According to the Dubai Airport website, the renowned Dubai Duty Free covers 5 400 square metres of shopper’s paradise. Well, it’s certainly not located in Terminal 2. There’s only one shop in Terminal 2. A rather uninteresting one at that. That, and a few cafeteria-style eateries.

Take the airport bus or bullet train or whatever - and pop over to another terminal, you say? Well, there is an airport shuttle, but you’ll need time: Terminal 2 is half an hour away from Terminal 3. Not that that should deter you. Most flights from Terminal 2 are delayed. Very much delayed! You see, Dubai’s Terminal 2 is departure point for flights to “bad”, obscure or dangerous places, often all three. And Oslo.

Not many businessmen or -women wandering about Terminal 2 this evening. Don’t see many hunched over laptops. Most seem to be migrant workers, aid workers or tired journos. And Norwegian tourists. Not many wheeled carry-ons here. More worn-and-torn holdalls, plastic bags and cardboard boxes. Held together by tape.

The notice board resembles a fascinating directory of unknown or spine-tingling destinations. Have you ever heard of Gheshm? Or Ahwaz? Or Ashgabat? Or Bald? I’m especially fascinated by Kish. Kish appears on the board a lot. Where is Kish?

Reading like a list over the world’s most troubled spots, flights to Kabul, Kandahar, Mogadishu, Srinagar, Asmara, Tehran-Imam Khomeini, Baghdad, Kirkuk and Erbil take off from Terminal 2. On never-before-heard-of airlines like Queshm Fars Air, Nasair, Pamir Airways and Jubba Air. And of course, Kish Air. Many fly outdated Soviet Tupolev or Antonov aircraft. Some are banned from entering European Union air space. Like Ariana Afghan Airways.

This night, the notice board shows all flights are delayed. Some are delayed until the next day! Oh no, I think. It’s almost midnight. The idea of spending 24 extra hours - or even 2 - in Terminal 2, seems unbearable. Especially with a tired 7-year-old along. Then I notice one flight that isn’t delayed. One! That’s our flight to Oslo.

I have an urge to go back to Terminal 2 and try one of those unknown destinations. Maybe even one of those unknown airlines. Kish. It’s gotta be Kish.

On the way back to Chisinau, our driver, Boris, stops by his house and invites us in. We’re about 15 km from Orheiul Vechi in a little village called Ivancea, populated by Ukrainians since medieval times. Ukrainian, rather than Moldovan, is the local language.

The house is cosy. Outdoors, fruit and vegetables abound. Behind a fence, chickens roam about, safe from nightly predators.

When two birds start fighting in the top of a tree, Boris gets out his gun. We’re Scandinavian and never see guns, so we’re a bit apprehensive. But Boris assures us he’ll not shoot the birds, just fire warning shots to scare them off. So he does. Have to protect his cherries. Next, he climbs up a ladder and picks heaps of sweet, delicious cherries for us.

His wife brings us a big bowl of equally delicious strawberries, way too much for us to eat. No problem, though – the remaining berries are put in a bag for us to take along to Chisinau and enjoy later.

Walking around the countryside, lazing in the sun, munching berries, smelling the flowers…. this would make a nice, relaxing little overnight- or weekend stay.

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