Since the latest escalation in the Middle East began, travel experts have filled column inches reassuring Australians not to cancel their European holidays. They have offered alternative routes, industry insights and plenty of conflicting advice. Go this way. Avoid that. Travel now. Stay home. It has become something of an advisory minefield.
What I have noticed, however, is that very few of those offering guidance appear to have made the journey themselves since hostilities began.
I write this from the United Kingdom, having arrived yesterday after flying from Sydney to London via Shanghai with China Eastern Airlines. I travelled with my wife and our two-year-old daughter. We were not embarking on a discretionary holiday that could easily be postponed. We were coming for my sister-in-law’s wedding – a milestone event involving a very small contingent of long-haul guests. Delaying the celebration for our convenience was never a realistic or fair option. It was not our day.
Like many travellers, we had booked months earlier, securing seats with Qatar Airways for our familiar Sydney-Doha-Manchester route. When hostilities escalated and uncertainty grew, we followed the lead of many and made the decision to change course and rebook via Asia to avoid the Middle East altogether.
As our departure date approached, Qatar Airways was operating a very limited schedule, largely repatriation flights for those stranded in Doha or ending their trip there. There were no flights to Sydney or Manchester, so alternative arrangements became essential – and expensive.
Our revised itinerary brought us into London Gatwick instead, with family undertaking a five-hour drive from England’s north-west to collect us. We briefly considered catching a train north, but thousands of others had clearly had the same idea. Fares had surged to more than $1,000 – hardly a sensible option after nearly 24 hours of travel with a toddler.
Walking into Sydney Airport on the afternoon of March 24 though, my first instinctive thought was simple: What war?
The terminal was bustling. Check-in queues snaked across the floor. Families clustered around departure screens. Business travellers hurried past with coffee cups and carry-ons. If you had no knowledge of global events, you could easily have believed everything was proceeding as normal.
Security and immigration were routine. Passengers waited at gates as they always do. Flights to Dubai and Doha still appeared on the departure board, though on this night, they would later be cancelled. The uncertainty surrounding transit through the Middle East must be deeply stressful for many travellers – which perhaps explains why so many have postponed trips or rerouted through Asia, as we did.
Unsurprisingly, our China Eastern flight was completely full. I suspect many onboard were travelling out of necessity rather than leisure, relying on the airline to get them to their destinations without venturing anywhere near the conflict zone.
Personally, I felt little anxiety about flying in the current climate. Had we persisted with our original plan to transit through Doha, my mindset may have been very different. Choosing an Asian route instead provided reassurance that we would still make it to an important family celebration safely.
Onboard, the experience was entirely ordinary. Meals were served. Drinks were poured. Passengers selected films or drifted off to sleep. Children, like mine, fussed and were comforted. In the pressurised bubble of a long-haul cabin, global tensions felt distant.
Anyone who has transited through Dubai, Abu Dhabi or Doha will know how impressively those airports cater to weary travellers. Even in the pre-dawn hours, they resemble bustling shopping centres during Boxing Day sales, with restaurants humming and duty-free lights blazing.
Shanghai Pudong Airport was a stark contrast.
After landing, we endured four separate document and passport checks – plus security screening – before reaching the departures area. It felt excessive and, at times, bewildering, especially as officers queried why we were carrying so much toddler food, toys and bottled water. What could we possibly need with all that? In the end, compromises were reached, some of it was jettisoned to appease authorities and we went on our way.
More surprising though was how quiet the airport was. For one of Asia’s largest cities, the terminal seemed virtually shut. Two or three food outlets were open. One coffee shop. Vast, cavernous concourses echoed with footsteps. It felt almost post-apocalyptic, as though we and our fellow passengers were survivors navigating an abandoned space.
There was little to do but sit and wait or attempt to decipher vending machines without English language settings.
Our daughter, whose sleep routine had been thoroughly disrupted – as it would have been regardless of airline choice – handled the journey remarkably well. With her usual cot replaced by a cramped economy seat, she alternated between restlessness and curiosity. My wife and I took turns walking her around the deserted terminal so she could stretch her legs while the other watched our backpacks.
Both sectors of the journey featured intermittent turbulence and seatbelt warnings, though nothing violent or unexpected. Ironically, the most dramatic moment came not over Asia but on arrival in London, where typically strong British winds made for a hair-raising descent. The pilot, however, executed a masterful landing and guided us smoothly to the gate.
Before the conflict erupted, we had anticipated the familiar efficiency – and even enjoyment – of transiting through Doha enroute to Manchester. Our hastily arranged alternative via Shanghai proved perfectly adequate in getting us well clear of danger, even if it lacked the spectacle and convenience of the Gulf hubs.
If there is a lesson from the experience, it is this: global conflict may reshape travel plans, complicate logistics and inflate costs, but long-haul journeys themselves continue. Airports remain crowded. Flights remain full. Families still find ways to reach the moments that matter.