Frequent Traveller (Cathy Dixon #1)

by Pandora Poikilos

  First documented by Marco Polo, this island nation was conquered by the Portuguese and later by the French in 1885 and gained complete independence in 1960. Politically, it has suffered severe setbacks in the form of continued protests against government censorship of media and freedom of speech.

  At least two governments have been overthrown and the most recent protests led to the death of at least two hundred people who protested against deteriorating living standards. The ongoing protests have led to the island’s dismissal from the African Union and the British government shutting down its embassy, creating a severe dent in international relations.

  Nevertheless, smaller sections of the island continue to thrive from its wildlife tourism efforts which bring in at least one million tourists, annually, most of them French. Being the third largest island in the world, many of its hotels and holiday resorts cater to people intending to make long trips, touring the various parts of its five thousand kilometre coastline. More than eight hundred hotels have popped up across the island and while not all the properties meet international standards, the government remains lax about enforcing strict tourism guidelines, with the underlying belief that even low-end hotels provide jobs, for the already impoverished community.

  Any tourist will find travelling in Madagascar a challenging process with its limited road structures and facilities. However, they can be assured of breathtaking scenery that can never be experienced anywhere else in the world and if planned properly, could be the trip of a lifetime.

  MoonStar Fianarantsoa was centrally located in one of Madagascar’s most populated and colourful towns. One of the newer additions to the MoonStar chain, the property was playing host to the annual General Manager’s “I Am A Champion” Cocktail. Every year, seventy corporate guests who had purchased the most number of room nights, alongside seventy General Managers from the top selling MoonStar properties were treated to a four-day getaway at one of the chain’s newer properties.

  As with all her other marketing communications efforts, Cathy maximized the event for the most mileage with the media, who of course, were also invited. Besides an evening cocktail for General Managers and corporate guests which was the main event, it was customary for Corporate Office to offer a charity event for the local community during one of the four days. The last day was usually set aside for media Q&A sessions with General Managers of their choice, including a property inspection of the hotel in which they were staying in. All in, the “I Am A Champion” getaway and cocktail was a publicity opportunity where the media discovered the destination, the property and the MoonStar chain.

  For events like these, precision was a necessary element for all departments. Cathy made sure all her team members were updated on changes related to the event and the guests who were involved. With more than twenty of the most popular travel publications lurking and waiting for a mistake, Cathy vowed never to make it easy for them.

  At the moment, the evening cocktail was in full swing. The theme of the night was “Slumber Party” which was an excellent opportunity for guests to forget about their usual black and white suits and to opt for more relaxing attire. The Fanorona Lounge was decorated with colourful silk bed sheets, single and double beds had been dressed up as chairs and sitting spaces. Guests also had the opportunity to choose from a variety of mini-spa treats such as foot massages, manicures and pedicures.

  Ongoing photo sessions, at the MoonStar Walk of Fame which was decorated with life-sized cut outs of various MoonStar properties around the world were also available. With a professional photographer clicking away, guests were able to bask in their momentary celebrity status as they had their picture taken.

  “You people sure know how to throw a party,” Laura told Cathy.

  Cathy acknowledged the remark with a warm smile and a quick peck on Laura’s cheek.

  “Thank you so much for covering the event. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other and it’ll be great to catch up,” Cathy said.

  Laura was a fifty-seven year old freelance travel writer for the extremely popular Luxury Travel Magazine. Having worked in the hospitality industry for almost thirty years, she had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of the industry. These days very little could surprise her. As much as she did not like to show favouritism to any particular hotel chain, MoonStar Hotels & Resorts was one of the few properties that did little wrong.

  Maybe it was Cathy’s watchful eye or her raging temper that people feared to confront when a mistake occurred. But then again, maybe they just knew how to cover their tracks and it was a matter of time before she got her hands on a juicy negative point about one of their properties, if not the entire hotel chain.

  Cathy stood at a corner of the bar and looked around the lounge. It was past 8:00 p.m. and the event had been in full swing for two hours with at least another four hours to go. Under normal circumstances, one would never find a hotel General Manager, a CEO of a private company and a journalist in the same room, let alone laughing and sharing funny anecdotes. Some of them even took part in organized activities such as ‘Blind Chef’, where they had to guess the names of ten food ingredients while blind folded and ‘Speed Meet’ where they moved around the room asking five different people a set of questions and remembering the answers without writing them down.

  “Two days more and then I can breathe,” Cathy murmured to herself.

  No matter how much effort was poured into making sure an event was well-planned, she knew things were bound to go wrong. As it was, Housekeeping had forgotten to make the beds in two rooms set aside for the media; one corporate guest had put on a dramatic act of being unable to breathe when he was accidentally given a smoking room, instead of a non-smoking room; while one General Manager insisted his back ached because Housekeeping had furnished him with an extremely coarse bed sheet.

  'Yes, the charity lunch tomorrow, the media Q&A on Sunday and then it’s all done,' she thought as she made her way to greet some guests.

  A little while later, she sipped her wine as she watched the emcee of the night start the lucky draw announcements. After this last planned activity for the evening, guests could choose to either, retire for the night, venture out for some local snacks or dance till the bar closed at 3.00a.m.

  “Cathy, we have a slight problem. I just spoke to Banquet and we were finalizing tomorrow’s lunch. Apparently, purchasing didn’t buy head scarves to tie around the kids’ heads ... she bought handkerchiefs ... like really big, ugly ones,” said one of her assistants who was careful to whisper in Cathy’s ear, making sure other guests would not hear this.

  “Oh what the hell! Where are they?” whispered Cathy, annoyed.

  “Let’s go to the Valiha room. The Banquet Manager, his name is Nick ... he’s already there with his team, setting up the tables and décor.”

  Her heart racing, Cathy felt certain the situation was disastrous. The theme for tomorrow’s charity lunch was "Pirates Aboard" and two hundred children from various orphanages around the town had been invited. With the media around, this presented the potential of reflecting a poor image on the hotel. If a main part of their costume was missing, it would look as though the property was purposely providing shoddy service, since most of the children were orphans.

  “Nick, how bad is it?” Cathy asked loudly as she walked into the room.

  “I’m sorry. I should have checked earlier but then again who would have expected such a mistake. I specifically told her to buy head scarves, like pirates would wear. I even gave her pictures,” came a disheartened reply.

  Cathy’s heart sank when she saw the handkerchiefs. Without a doubt, no child of any age would find the plain, pale colours, pirate-like.

  “What about Banquet’s props? Is there any extra cloth that we could cut up into squares? You guys must have loads, especially after the jungle night theme you used during your opening,” Cathy said, her mind racing for a solution.

  “Well, yeah we could ... but that’s two hundred pieces Cat
hy, and it’s past 10:00 p.m. That’s a lot of squares and there are other things to be done as well,” Nick said, not at all looking forward to cutting cloth instead of arranging tables and cutlery.

  “Tough. I’ll get my assistants in and see if Front Office can spare anyone. We’re just going to have to give it a shot and do as many as we can. First, let me pop back to the lounge to check on the cocktail and I’ll come back here to help,” said Cathy, already making her way back to the lounge.

  Cathy knew she could not afford any mishaps. Sleep or no sleep, everything needed to be perfect before 12.00 noon the next day. Even before she reached the entrance of the lounge, she heard a loud voice calling her name.

  “Cathy dear, just a reminder. I need an extra towel in my room. I called housekeeping earlier and checked half an hour ago. I still haven’t got it. Can you make sure it gets to me before 11:00 p.m., please?” Laura said.

  “Certainly Laura, I’m sorry it was overlooked but I’ll have it sent. Are you having a good time?”

  “Yes, I am. Although, it’s getting a little too noisy for me, so I’ll be heading up to my room in a bit. What about you, dearie? Is something wrong, you seem a little worried?”

  “No, not at all. Just making sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”

  “Really now? Well, MoonStar has yet to screw up any event I’ve attended so I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Well, goodnight, Cathy and don’t forget the towel,” Laura said, not entirely convinced that things were going according to plan.

  Cathy watched as Laura walked towards the elevators. Even if not all reporters were waiting for MoonStar’s downfall, Laura was the one person who would welcome it, if it ever happened.

  After placing one assistant to keep an eye on the General Manager’s Cocktail, Cathy rallied as much support as she could, even off-duty associates to help with cutting the head scarves for the children. Children aged five years old and above up were expected to be at the function and MoonStar associates had already been informed that twenty children were bound to wheelchairs while fifteen were hearing impaired.

  Signage directing children towards the function room and restrooms had to be clear and corridors accessible. Inside the room, more than two thousand balloons had been blown up and released towards the ceiling, providing a colourful sky. The long tables were adorned with black and white bowls, plates, cutlery and even a pirate mug which the children could take back with them.

  The Executive Chef would be preparing drumsticks, nuggets, potato wedges, baby steaks, giant meatballs, caramel apples and had arranged for pop corn and candy floss machines to be placed in one corner of the room. All they needed to do was to finish cutting two hundred pieces of head scarves, fill the goodie bags and they were done.

  It was 11:00 a.m. the next day when disaster finally snuck up on them and shattered their hard work. The Banquet team was busy placing the final touches to the décor when they were informed that twelve children had arrived early. With check-out time just around the corner, Cathy knew it would be chaos to have them in the lobby and looked to Nick for a solution.

  “I'll take them up to the lounge. We could wait there,” suggested Nick.

  “Sure. You go do that and I’ll wait for the other kids,” said Cathy, relieved.

  A few minutes later, a child screamed. Cathy looked up to see Nick running out of the lounge, pulling the children behind him.

  Shocked and unable to stomach a mishap, she hurried to meet him and as she approached, she heard him say in a loud whisper, while pulling her away from the room, “The bastards didn’t clean up after the event last night. There were beer mugs, liquor bottles ... it reeks of vomit, the food has gone bad ... Cathy, Laura was there.”

  YACUIBA, BOLIVIA

  July 2010

  Once conquered by the Spanish and later used as a training ground by the CIA, Bolivia has remained rustic and charming despite political unrest and a lagging economy. During the 1970s, Bolivia's people suffered at the hands of a corrupt government. This resulted in severe human rights violations, drug trafficking, mass murders and economic mismanagement which led to inflation so severe, the country is yet to recover.

  One of the more prominent issues that has caused a strain on international relations is the governance of energy and hydrocarbon contracts for foreign companies. Having the largest natural gas reserves in South America, each elected government has issued new rules and new payment percentages, only to be overthrown or caught in other corrupt activity, in the span of a few years. This has led to numerous inconsistencies in business agreements made with foreign consortiums. However, what it has maintained as a national treasure is a series of naturally grown salt mounds at the crest of the Andes Mountains, located on a salt flatbed known as, Salar de Uyuni.

  As a whole, the salt mounds account for 80% of the world’s lithium reserves. But, if this business venture is ever initiated, the country could lose a major tourist attraction which provides for continued income to the communities around it.

  Bolivia’s unique blend of Amerindians, Mestizos, Europeans and Africans makes it a cultural showcase of food, music, art and lifestyles, offering fascinating sights and sounds to tourists. The town of Yacuiba is one such town and is fast becoming a bustling centre for commerce and tourism. Home to at least one hundred thousand people and located at the border of Argentina, the city is also popular for its diversified cafes and nightlife.

  Since the property had opened its doors a year ago, MoonStar Yacuiba enjoyed a seasonal crowd. The property catered largely for tourist groups or foreigners who preferred staying in serviced apartments and offered a small number of guest rooms, penthouse suites and studio style apartments, for single travellers or long-term guests.

  It was in one of these serviced apartments that a shower was turned on and Linda stepped under the gushing water. She felt the cold water on her body and mentally ran through a checklist of things she was supposed to have accomplished. Uncertain she had done it all, something nagged at her. As she sponged herself, getting a whiff of the shea butter shower gel, she heard the front door. It was an unusually loud slam which meant he wasn’t in a good mood. She took a deep breath, just as he pounded on the bathroom door.

  “What the bloody hell have you been doing all day long?! Where the hell is my coffee? You know it must be waiting for me, you fool!” shouted Larry.

  “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll make your coffee for you,” Linda said in a hurry, trying to get the soap off her body and trying to rush out as fast as she could manage.

  “You open this door now before I come in and get you. I want my coffee now!” he screamed back, this time the fury in his voice was unmistakable.

  Linda could already imagine the veins at his temples ready to pop.

  “Larry ... hang on. Please, let me finish up here. Just five minutes, please,” her voice pleaded.

  A loud bang sounded as the bathroom door crashed inwards and Larry charged in. He pushed her against the wall then wrapped his hands around her neck, moving his face closer to hers. Linda smelt the beer and scent from the strip bar he had just visited. She closed her eyes and pretended to be somewhere else. Maybe, this way it won’t hurt as much.

  “You stupid woman! Open your eyes! I put a roof over your head and food in your fat belly. When I want my coffee, you give me my coffee! It’s that fucking simple! You hear me?!”

  “Y ... e ... s,” Linda stammered.

  “What?! I didn’t hear you?!”

  “I’m sorry. I am. It won’t happen again,” she said, trying to break free from his grip.

  “Look at you, with your fat bum and a face like a bag of liver. God knows why I keep you. You can’t even give me proper sex. I have to go out for it. Now, go get me my coffee and remember ... lukewarm. Not hot, not cold. It has to be warm.”

  He sounded a menacing laugh and let her go. Linda wrapped a towel around her trembling body and ran out to make the coffee.

  “I knew it. I just knew I had forgotten so
mething,” she muttered to herself, trying to stay calm. She knew full well that the bathroom door had to be fixed, at least this would give her a few pleasant minutes with Raymond. She smiled to herself.

  The next day, Raymond the property’s Resident Manager was seen on his mobile phone, his expression was grim.

  “Sure, no ... don’t worry about it. I’ll be up in a few minutes,” he said as he ended the call and looked at Cathy.

  “I hate this,” he muttered, gulping his coffee so he could finish the beverage a little faster than he wanted.

  At the moment, a European media group was staying at the property. As they did not have a Public Relations Manager, Cathy was on hand to assist. After morning briefing, she and Raymond stepped out to the snack bar for a sandwich, when reception called him to report a major problem in room 1707 where the guest needed to speak only to him.

  “Every other week, something is broken or damaged ... and it’s fine that he pays for it but how much is he going to hit her before she leaves?” he said staring into space.