The Fingerprint Factory
Drama Drama Drama. It used to be the last dreaded event before getting your residence. You had to have fingerprints taken and it was in this big mob-scene, huge mobs of people and hot hot hot, no air, and the ink was HORRIBLE, and even if you brought your own soap and washed right away, you still had ink under your fingernails for days. It was a hellish experience.
Today was the day. It started with drama – when I got to where I was supposed to be at 10:10, the receptionist told me I was supposed to be there at 9:30, I had missed my appointment. I was really sure my husband had told me my appointment was at 10:30, so I waited while she called, and it was one of those experiences where she was NOT happy being wrong, and I got to sit out in the not-air-conditioned hall to wait for my group to go.
When my group got to the fingerprint place, there was no mob. There WAS more drama. There was only a very nice be-thobed gentleman who said that the fingerprint computer was broken. It was broken yesterday, and they got it working again this morning until 9 o’clock, but now it is broken. I asked “how long until it is fixed?” but it was one of those insh’allah things, no one knows how long it will take to get the system up again. We would have to come back tomorrow.
And then, just as we were walking out the gate back to the van, he called to us “Come back! Come back!” The fingerprint machine was working again.
Inside, it was orderly and air conditioned. Take a number, take a seat. Wait your turn. Very cool, watching people’s fingerprints, handprints, etc show up in huge prints. If there was any blur, the machine showed red – like a red thumb – and it had to be done over again.
For some reason, I had to have several done over again. I don’t know if it was me, or if the machine was just finicky. All I know is that the system was up long enough for me to get my fingerprints taken, and there was NO mess. None. Wooo HOOOO.
I still have my old Qateri driving licence. I am praying – please keep me in your prayers – that they will just renew it and I won’t have to take a road test on the roads of Qatar. Although – after driving in Kuwait – I can drive anywhere. 😀
Happy Birthday, Mom
“You make me sound so OLD!” my Mother scolded me, when I wrote about how she was 85 years old and still living on her own. Mom keeps active. She can’t do all the things she really wants to do – travel, mostly – because she can’t manage a heavy bag or standing too long – but she keeps up her own place, fixes her own meals, goes out with friends, exercises, makes and keeps her own appointments. We should all be so fortunate, when we hit our 80’s.
(This is not my Mother’s birthday cake, but when I looked up cakes I found this on Kay’s Cakes.com and knew it was a cake my Mom would love, if she loved cake. Actually, she loves Lemon Meringue Pie, and that is what she really had at her birthday party.)
My younger sister has shown her a couple really nice places where she could have more assistance on a daily basis, beautiful places with activities and transportation for elders.
(I can already hear her wincing at using the word ‘elder’)
She doesn’t want to be surrounded by old people. She stays young by being as active as she wants to be.
She has signed up for a three-day mini university course at a nearby university, where they use the college facilities during the summer months to offer interesting mini classes. One of the four classes that she has signed up for is Early Islamic Spain. I’m impressed, Mom.
She keeps up with the news, sends me clippings, reads books we tell her are worth reading, and keeps up with her friends. She is good at managing her money, and researching her investments. She does better than most women half her age.
Happy Happy Birthday, Mom, and many more to come.
More Doha Museum of Islamic Arts Photos
I have been so blessed. Since I moved back to Doha, five sets of visitors have come – in a mere eight weeks. My most recent guests were the most fun kind – they loved everything I love, especially the Souq al Waqif and the Doha Museum of Islamic Art. Even though we had a dust storm their entire visit, we laughed and had a wonderful visit.
I got to re-visit my Iznic pieces, most of these centuries old:
And last, but not Iznik, a showstopper necklace that just knocks my socks off every time I see it.
Those large chunks of rock? Real emeralds, the size of pebbles. Real diamonds, the size of ice cubes. Real pearls, a little wobbly, some of them, but they add such gloss and character. What red blooded woman wouldn’t love this piece?
The Museum, on Saturday, had many groups – closely-dropped Americans from the military base, black abaya’d school girls, a grouup of one mixed – maybe a religious family group, visiting particular exhibits of religious interest – and the Museum welcomed so many visitors and absorbed them without us feeling the least bit crowded. . . well, maybe once when we watched a group of about 40 enter one very large elevator. We chose to take the next elevator, which we had entirely to ourselves.
It was never noisy – the water from the fountain tamps down the sound. Even the normally intrusive ringing of the security guard phones was stilled during the afternoon visit. Pity the Book of Secrets exhibit is now closed.
Every time I go to this museum, I am awed by the beauty, the expense, the spaciousness – and in amazement that this beautiful facility is a gift to the people – there is no charge for admission. I just really really wish they would put in a coffee shop!
It was another delightful day at the DMIA. 🙂
Residence
We all know the drill, the expat drill we all go through to become residents. Residency is not something to be sniffed at, if you don’t have it, really bad things can happen.
So today was the day I needed to get my medical exam. What a difference from the last time, six years ago.
Six years ago, we went to an old, dilapidated hospital in the center of town with terrible parking. There were long lines in the hot sun everywhere. I don’t remember there being any air conditioning. What I do remember is walking down a hallway littered with the used cotton balls people had discarded after having their blood taken for the blood tests. I was nearly ill – blood carries diseases, and here were these bloody balls all over the floor.
When it was my turn to have my blood taken, the women who took my blood – six years ago – was eating salted pumpkin seeds. I saw the thought cross her mind that she ought to put on the gloves, right there in the box on her desk, but if she did, she couldn’t continue munching, so she decided not to. I watched her take a fresh needle – I was saving my protest to insist on a fresh needle had she decided she could re-use an old one. I choose my battles.
I closed my eyes and prayed. She did OK, she got the blood she needed and was still munching on the pumpkin seeds as I left to go get my X-ray.
In the X-ray room there were all these women in USED hospital gowns, one would take one off and the next woman would put it on. I had been warned to bring a white T-shirt, and that would be acceptable, which it was. There was no dressing room, just one big changing room.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Fast forward six years – new, modern air conditioned medical facility outside the city with lots of parking. I’m already feeling more positive, although I do have my clean T-shirt. The phlebotomist is in a white jacket, clean and neat, and is supplied with all kinds of sterile supplies. The blood work takes maybe 30 seconds, thanks be to God, because I am a little squeamish about people taking my blood, and one time, I even fainted, but just for a few seconds. Not this time – it was over before I could even get too worried about it.
The X-ray was orderly, and there were stacks and stacks and stacks and bags of clean gowns, and even three fairly clean changing rooms. I still wore my own T-shirt, since I had it. The only thing that bothered me was that there were bins to put the used gowns when the X-ray was finished, but the women tossed them on the floor! There is a part of me that almost picked them all up and put them in the bin, but they called my name just as I was about to do it.
The process was so orderly, so painless this time! And, God willing, soon I will be a legal Qatar resident and even, soon, insh’allah, a legal driver. I still have my old Qateri driving license, it will just need to be renewed. (I also have my 10-year Kuwait license, because in expat world, you just never know. I also have my lifetime German driving license because in expat world, you just never know. And I have my stateside driver’s license to take care of me there. 🙂 )
Souq Al Waqif and The Tajine
I can’t let Little Diamond leave Doha without one more visit to the Souk al Waqif. She used to go with me in the old days, when the souk was really really really HOT, and stuffy, and even a little dirty, and the pathways were dark and potholed, so you could easily trip or fall down. Some people I would take loved the place, some didn’t want to set foot inside. It was considered dangerous, and off limits to the military folk.
I miss the scribes. I miss the shoemakers. I miss the little hardware stalls, where when I would ask for masonry nails, 3/4″, they would take me by my sleeve to the man who sold masonry nails. It was a sweet souk then.
It is a WOW souk now. Many of the vendors are the same, even though some have gone missing. There is still the canvas sailmaker, and the fishing supplies man, and the bird souk. There is still the HUGE kitchen souk, and I don’t mean it is a large store, I mean it is a store for giant people, who cook in pots the size that a grown man or woman – or both – could hide in!
When we lived in Jordan, we used to be invited to feasts, Mensefs, a huge rice dish, served with goat most often, sometimes chicken, rarely lamb or mutton (sheep) if it was a really really special occasion on huge round trays. The trays in the Souk Al Waqif would probably serve twenty men at one time, they are so huge.
People say you can’t stop progress. When we lived in Doha the last time, the municipality put in meters for paid street parking. Qatteris were so outraged that the meters were ripped back out without ever being used. I wonder where all those hundreds of unused parking meters ended up?
Today there is a story in the paper about paid parking going in at the Souq al Waqif, and they quote five or six people who are wildly enthusiastic about the idea and all I can wonder is . . . where did they find people who would publicly say they were in favor of PAYING for parking that they always have had for free? The article says that now they will have less competition from large trucks, but when we are there at congested times, it is normal everyday SUV’s and family goat-trucks that are competing for the parking spaces. I wonder if the public perception has changed so much in five years that people are now openly praising paid parking?
It isn’t costly. It’s going to be like 3QR – less than a dollar. It also isn’t covered, and when you park your car in the lot, it is hotter than anything you can imagine when you come out, even if it is only 0930 and only been sitting there for an hour. The best time to go is night, during these hot summer months, and even so – the place is hopping. Even on a week night, there are so many good restaurants down in the Souk al Waqif restaurant row that it is a go-to place for a dinner out.
We tried the Tagine, as we all like Moroccan Food.
The greeting was warm, and the service was attentive.
The food was excellent. Now I have an admission to make, one I have had to make frequently – I forgot to take a photo when the food was served, so all you can see is the mostly eaten remains. I am so sorry, sincerely sorry, but it smelled SO good, and we were SO hungry.
We sat overlooking the souks. There is a wonderful terrace for outdoor dining, but it is just a little too hot and humid for us to enjoy eating outside right now. We can hardly wait for October, when those cooler breezes start blowing.
These are the pre-starter nibbles, delicious olives, a tangy spicy Harissa paste, and delicious fresh-baked bread that melts in your mouth:
We ordered the mixed hot starters, which all disappeared before I thought to take a photo, and Little Diamond had the Addas (lentil) soup, also very good, also not photographed. We had the Moroccan Salad and Zaalouk, an eggplant/ tomato salad we adore. Yep. We were so hungry I forgot to take photos.
AdventureMan ordered Chicken With Slim Bread because we had never heard of it before and it sounded interesting. It was good. He shared with me. 🙂 He also chose the CousCous with 7 Vegetables, because when we lived in Tunisia, we were told traditionally it was always supposed to have seven vegetables (and one was always squash, and there were always garbanzo beans, and there was always tomato, and pretty much always carrot – it was always a very vegetable-y dish). It doesn’t sound like we ordered that much, but it was so delicious, and so filling, that it there was food left over.
The bill was reasonable. Wine and beer are not available, and that keeps the totals lower. We rolled ourselves back to the car, already planning our next trip to his delightful restaurant.
Once the sun goes down, the heat isn’t so bad. The Souq Al Waqif is so much fun at night. Everyone goes there – the locals, the expats, the tourists – it thrills my heart to see a public space so well loved, so well used. There are some very cool art spots going in, too!
One of my good friends told me there is a blog in Arabic that talks about searching for a restaurant I had written about in Mubarakiyya, only to find out it was in Doha. The blogger had invited guests. I felt so bad. So I will add this: WARNING WARNING THIS RESTAURANT IS IN DOHA, QATAR, NOT IN KUWAIT!
Doha Cat Television
“Cat channels?” asked Little Diamond, mystified, listening to a conversation at the dinner table.
Oh yes. He’s got the Gardener channel, two or three pigeon channels, the songbird channels, the cleaning lady channel – life is very interesting for the Qatteri Cat. Today, I set up the Quilt Room Cat Sleeping Station – he likes to be in the same room I am working in, and it is a help to me if he has his own place so he is not on top of my work. (My friend who organized my quilt room thinks the Qattari Cat is spoiled, LLLOOOLL. OF COURSE he is spoiled! He is an only cat!)
Here is the cat sleeping station:
Here is how the Cat Sleeping Station is utilized:
But then – the one remaining sort-of-non-flying-baby-pigeon has begun spreading his wings, little by little. Yesterday morning he was on top of my car – this is a giant step for a pigeon who walks everywhere. Last night, he was on the garage room – an even bigger step.
No sooner had I set up the Cat Sleeping Station then the little walking pigeon figured out how to make it to my windowsill:
Never a dull moment for the Qatteri Cat:
The Doha Mumtaz Tailor
As a last resort, we head to the Mumtaz tailor to see if he knows where we might find the exact fabric for Little Diamond’s pants. No, says the Mumtaz Tailor, but actually he saw a lot of it just a couple years ago, but it is all gone now.
This tiny little shop, just off Karabaa, is probably not one you would go into if someone hadn’t taken you there.
One of my stitch-group buddies took me on a Doha tour just before she was leaving, took me to all the tiny shops you would never know about if a good friend didn’t take you there. The Mumtaz Tailor is a gold mine. If anyone has just the buttons you need, that zipper in an unusual shade, the lining to go under the cut out brocade – he’s got it, or he knows who does. He also has all the tools-of-the-trade that people who quilt or sew need – good scissors, measuring tapes, embroidery threads, hoops, a whole host of things you don’t even know what they are until you need them. The Mumtaz Tailor has them, tucked inside his fairly small shop, from floor to ceiling, and he knows where they are.
One year, I bought about twenty hajj towels, the very large, thirsty cotton white towels available here in sets of two for men making the hajj to Mecca. I took them to the Mumtaz tailor and he embroidered my family member’s names in English on one end and in Arabic on the other end and I even got to choose the colors. It was the hit of Christmas; a totally unique gift from Doha.
Although he didn’t have the fabric we sought, the minute we walked in I spied a bolt of the only batik fabric I have ever seen in Doha. Six years ago, I bought several meters of this and I have been looking for it ever since, with no success. I bought five more meters. Wooo HOOOOO!
Doha Parking Nightmare
You could think of it as an adventure, as adventure can cause the same heart-slamming rush of adrenalin. Little Diamond and I were late to the fabric souks area, looking for a match to some pants she has loved and needs copied, as they have irrevocably split in a critical area. We circled the Souk al Diraa multiple times, hoping a spot would open up, one of a couple hundred cars circling, hoping for a spot.
Sharp-eyed Little Diamond spotted a sign for public parking. I’ve never noticed it before – it led us to a building in front of which I often park, it is now totally empty of stores. There is a sign as you enter the parking, which is all above ground, that “only Ministry personnel” can park on the first level.
We had started up the winding ramp when after two curves, we were in total dark. I have my sunglasses on, and I am desperately trying to get them off, but even when I get them off, I can’t see, we are in total darkness on an upward twisting ramp and all I can think of is what if someone is coming up in a hurry behind me and hits me???
“The light! Turn on the car lights” shouts Little Diamond, who is allowed to shout at me when she gives me good ideas. Oh yeh! Car lights . . . since I have never driven this car at night, I don’t exactly know where they are, but I make a guess and thanks be to God, the lights come on and we crawl up two more levels until we begin to see some light appear.
We check out every level – every level is full. On level three, we finally find a spot, and hurry down the filthy stairs to check out fabrics so we can get back to the tailor before he closes. As the tailor had said – we cannot find the exact fabric, but we find a fabric which is about a 90% match and that will have to be good enough.
As we head back to parking lot – the surrounding sidewalk is crumbling and one entry is chained off – we find the elevators to take us up. “Not working!” says a man standing nearby, so we head for the nearest stairwell, and almost gag on the way up. I think people maybe sleep in there at night – there are some terrible sights and smells.
There are footprints, even high on the walls:
As we exit the stairwell on our floor, we are met with the sight of a totally burned out car:
Fortunately, on the drive out, there is no area where the lights are burned out, and we drive comfortably the four levels down to the exit.
I normally get the these souks before nine in the morning and I can always find a parking spot, do my shopping and be out in a couple hours, max. I will NEVER, NEVER again, park in this parking lot. I would forego a visit to the souks rather than park in this parking lot again. It is a danger to your health!
Sandstorm Due in 72 Hours
I’m not surprised – my niece, Little Diamond, is coming for a visit. Her arrival seems to invite sandstorms! We are just praying for her safe arrival BEFORE the sandstorm hits. For my friends in Iraq – this must seem endless. For my friends in Kuwait – I hope you get to dodge the bullet this time!
Sandstorm in 72 hours: Met
Web posted at: 7/14/2009 2:57:38
Source ::: The Peninsula
DOHA: A sandstorm is likely to hit Qatar in the next 72 hours, the meteorological office at the Civil Aviation Authority has announced.
During the sandstorm, the expected visibility will be around 2 to 5km and one kilometre or less in certain areas. Sea waves are expected to rise upto between 5 and 8 feet and even upto 10 feet in some areas.
The expected sandstorm will be blowing in from Iraq, and will reach the northern, eastern and central parts of the Arabian Peninsula, up to Iran.
The Saudi Meteorology and Environment Department, meanwhile, said the sandstorm would bring winds of medium to high velocity carrying with them around 2 billion tonnes of dust.
The below-average rainfall and inadequate water in the Euphrates and Tigris rivers in Iraq have contributed to the raging sandstorm.
The storm is so strong that it has stranded Admiral Mike Mullen, the US military’s senior commander, in the restive city of Kirkuk, north of Baghdad, according to reports.
The weather department has advised people to exercise caution during the sandstorm, especially during the night and while driving.
A Small Adventure in Qatar
Here is one reason I love AdventureMan. He loves to go exploring, and Friday mornings after church are our favorite time. I am showing him some new routes, because the street patterns have changed, and where the pigeon mosque used to be, and he notices that the GATE IS OPEN!
So here is what I love. The gate is open. There is no sign saying No Entry. To AdventureMan – and to me – that means that it is not forbidden, which means that it is allowed, right?
There is no guard on duty – it’s Friday. Maybe they are praying.
And the pigeon mosque is still there! I was so afraid they were tearing it down. I don’t know what the real name of this mosque is. There used to be parking behind it where all the Pakistani drivers parked their decorated delivery trucks, and those of us visiting the souks in that area parked there, too. Now, there is almost NO parking available unless you get there at like 6 in the morning. (Actually, if you get there around 0830 on Saturday morning, you can find a parking place.) We call it the pigeon mosque because all the pigeons gather on the roof there. The mosque has been totally gutted and is being renovated.
The rest of what used to be a place filled with cheap junky stores is gone. Demolished and carted away. It’s just a big empty space. No clue yet as to what is going in.
We will have to wait for another day when the gate is open – inviting us to come in. 🙂
Recent Comments
intlxpatr on Shampoo Ginger tigerbutterya0c5ff1d… on Shampoo Ginger intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… John on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 