Full credit to the Indian embassy here; they processed our visa in just three days, instead of their usual seven and everything went without a hitch. No queuing either to drop-off or pick-up our passports. I’m impressed and just hope that the rest of India lives up to this standard; although I fear that it might not…

With renewed confidence, we jumped into our hire car and headed out into the desert again. This time towards Fujairah on the east coast of the country for exploration and a spot of scuba diving. Unfortunately I can’t give you a gallery today. For one, most of the pictures would be of the desert. The one other time I got the camera out invited a flurry of “no camera, no camera!” from the conservative locals.

The diving looked as though it would be great. For once the temperature of the water was warm enough for Squiffy not to worry about how many wetsuits she should wear. Thirty-two degrees celsuis, unbelievable! I dove wearing only shorts and a button-down shirt. Which made driving back to the hostel wearing a towel instead of a shirt, a bit awkward in such a conservative state…

Unfortunately though, Squiffy had a terrible dive. Whilst the temperature was right, everything else went wrong for her; ill fitting mask, inadequate weighting, and a frustrating inability to equalise, meant that I had to drag her along at only twelve metres, all the while she closed he eyes to prevent further salt water stings. It was a real shame for both of us. She sat-out the second dive, this time a wreck dive and I buddied-up with a nice couple that have recently moved to Dubai (hi Dave & Ela!). It was my first wreck dive and, whilst I’m not qualified to go into a wreck, just swimming around the outside was really very interesting.