Christmas day in DubaiDubai airport is a shrine to consumerism. Miles and miles of duty free shopping mingled with cash in a hundred currencies all exchanging hands in the different languages of the globe.
Through the throng, a little bewildered from a plane ride watching Ivan warming up his magic hands we marched towards the first meeting of the Dosa Boys.
For a Kiwi, a Londoner and a sort of confused Vietnamese guy meeting an old sort of Jewish mate after years apart, what could have been more appropriate than the place we finally met...The Irish Village in Dubai. I haven't seen Matt for ages, on the phone when we texted him he texted through that he was "At the entrance in a big red Santa hat - you can't miss me."
So me and Ivan scoured the entrance of the airport for about hald an hour before the penny dropped that he was actually at the entrance of the pub. We're meant to be navigating the whole length of India and we can't even find a guy in a red Santa hat in a pub. Oh dear...
Nick turned up as the first round came in, looking a bit rough. He'd had a long day.
Apparently he had blagged a 400 quid meal in the Burj al Arab, the most expensive restaurant in the world that afternoon among other frolics and he was lookin a little frazzled. But in Dubai, with friends we toasted our first drink. The Dosa Boys had finally met!