Doha: Keep Your Camera Handy
Today I had one of those experiences I have so often in Doha, a “no-one-would-believe-me” moment, but I have learned to keep my camera handy, and fortunately we were stopped in traffic so I could snap this one without endangering any lives, especially my own.
Traffic is steady, busy, but pretty mellow. Yeh, there are the normal “I’m-going-to-make-a-left-turn-from-the-right-lane” guys; I’ve lived here for so long it doesn’t even rate a roll of the eyes. It’s part of the Doha / Kuwait driving culture.
This, however, I only see in Qatar. Mr. I’m-So-Important-I-Can’t-Wait is this guy in the white Land Cruiser.
He is sitting half on top of the street median, trying to get back into traffic going in his direction. To get there, he drove down the wrong way down the street on the other side of the divider. At first, there was no traffic, but when traffic came, he got up on the divider so he was only HALF blocking traffic from the other direction, and he is bullying his way back into the line he was too important to wait in.
I carry my camera now, every day, in my purse, because I know if I just tell you about these things, you won’t believe them.
I have seen this also at major roundabouts. Some yahoo drives up the other side of the road to the roundabout to avoid waiting in the line. Up over the medians, facing oncoming traffic. I know, I know, what are they thinking?
In Kuwait, I was sickened by the number of young men killed on the roads every week, every month. If it were an epidemic killing young men, people would do something about it, but tell these guys to obey the law? Make them pay fines for reckless driving? Make them wear seat belts? Their behavior tells me that no one has ever held them accountable for their arrogant and dangerous driving habits.
While we are told that “no one is above the law” somehow the message hasn’t made it to these guys.
November 9, 1989 The Fall of the Wall
Twenty years ago tomorrow, and I still hold my breath in wonder.
I was doing a very untypical thing for me – I was headed for the Czech border with three military-wife friends, to buy crystal. There was an unusual amount of traffic, all coming from the border, and the cars – not the normal beautiful cars you find on the German autobahns, but the fiberglass cars coming out of the Soviet Union and Eastern Bloc – miles and miles and miles on end, all headed West.
When it happened, we didn’t have a clue. There had been rising signs of unrest in the East, but that happens, and has always been ruthlessly put down.
The US had been in Germany forty years. In the most recent years, all the posts and all the military housing had undergone significant updatings – significant and expensive. If you asked anyone about the possibility of the wall coming down (Berlin Wall, for those of you who were not alive) they would just laugh.
“We’ll be here forever,” they would say.
So too, would Germans say.
“We’ve been divided for too long. We think differently,” they would say “We could never be re-united.”
In one joyful night, that all changed. As we reached our stop and went for dinner in our Gasthaus, the television showed the cars flowing over the borders, and the young dancing on the wall in Berlin. It was one of those rare occasions when the world held it’s breath in wonder and amazement; we did not know this was a possibility. Such joy!
Germany has struggled to make the reunification work. Even now, in the west, Germans will gripe about how all their tax monies are going to the east, and those from the east are taking their jobs, but in essence, the reunification has been a success, and the greater Germany is an amazing fact-of-life I never thought I would see in my life.
I still celebrate November 9th in my heart. Twenty years! It seems like yesterday.
Driving in Qatar
You probably think I am cursing when I am talking to you on the road.
I am not.
I am saying “Your poor father! He told you about turn signals! Weren’t you listening???”
I am saying “If your mother could see your bad manners, she would be so ashamed of you!”
I am saying “Hahahahahahaha! You got your picture taken!”
Moving into my lane when I am already in it, is bad manners. Honking at me to make me let you in is WORSE manners. Didn’t you see me? Oh! Here’s a thought – did you check your side mirrors before you thought to change lanes??
Have you noticed? I let the guys in who USE THEIR TURN SIGNALS! They are communicating in a polite way. I let them in in front of me. I am nice about it.
Back in Traffic; How Do You Alphabetize / File?
So today I became, once again, a legal driver in Qatar, five months to the day from my arrival. Yep, for those of you who never have the joy of trying to maneuver through the complexity of getting a license in a foreign country – you have NO idea. NO idea. There are people who try and try to get a license and never do.
We are really lucky. We have some very good people who help us get things done. Somehow, it’s my turn to be lucky today.
When I showed up at the office, however, one of the HR girls told me “Oh! Flana is not here today! You will have to come back.”
You all know how nice I am. I smiled at her and said “my husband told me to be here today to get my driver’s license. Someone is going to help me.” Smile again, big smile.
Sure enough, someone is going to help me, and it is someone who I like, someone who has helped me before and who is always calm and patient and knows how to persist pleasantly until he gets what he wants from the bureaucrats. In fact, I admire him, because people end up liking to help him. He is low key. He takes me to the driver’s station, where, because of my advanced age (DO NOT ASK) I have to have an eye test. This leads me to wonder. Doesn’t everyone have to have an eye test?
Then I wait, in the special ladies’ majlis:
I had to wait quite a long time, but I was comfortable, and while I was waiting, I read all the driving safety signs they had up along the ceiling. They were all in English and Arabic, and they were great thoughts, but too many words. Like if you are reading that many words: If you are driving too fast you may not get home alive (that is not a real one, but that was the gist of most of them) so I was creating a new driving safety campaign called the equal campaign:
Speed + Texting = (shows a vehicle turned on its side and all smashed
Speed + Weaving = Two or three crunched vehicles
Texting + Driving = QR (enormous fine)
Something simple to read, graphically simple, something you can glance at and get the meaning.
When I got my driver’s license, I was really happy, except for one tiny little thing – it’s kind of my name but not exactly my name. It’s an easy mistake to make, names can be complicated, but . . . it isn’t my name on my license. It’s my face, it’s my information – it isn’t my name. For half a heartbeat, I consider saying something and then Wisdom kicks in and I zip my lip.
So then, driving home in traffic, I got to thinking about names and how we file things, alphabetically, and even Europeans sometimes file us wrong, which has led us to first class seats because airlines can’t find us, etc. It isn’t always such a bad thing.
Then I started wondering about how Arab speaking people file. Like do you have half the files in the “A” drawer, like Al So-and-So and Al Somebody Else, and how do the sun and moon words affect the filing, like Ar Rayyan, or Ath Thalaka, or As Shams, etc. Once you have filed someone, the goal is to be able to retrieve that information? How does alphabetization work in Arabic? How are things filed?
So being stuck in traffic might not be so bad if someone answers my question and I learn something. 🙂
Stuck in Traffic on Musheirib
With all the re-routing off Al Rayyan as we convert to the Heart of Doha, I found myself inching along Al Musheirib this week, along with the noon-time crowd. When there is nothing else to do – take some photos. We drive right by every day, but do we look?
Many of these spots will disappear.
Boutiques? (!)
And here is one of my favorites – see it, just over the street sign? Cheep and Best?
The More Things Change
“. . . When we first came to Doha,” I laughed to my friend, “the first thing my husband warned me was never never to get behind a truck carrying concrete blocks. They weren’t tied down, and now and then a bump or a lumpy corner would send concrete blocks all over the roads. They don’t do that any more. They have rules now.”
Spoken too soon.
The very next week, I saw three trucks in a row, laden with concrete bricks, moving slowly down B-ring; one red, one white, one blue. I got stuck, first behind one, then behind the second.
No one was endangered as I took these photos. Traffic was at a standstill.
Pomegranate Soup by Marsha Mehran
I saw a mention of this book in an Amazon.com referral as a book I might like, and was almost set to order it when something said “go check the stack of books Little Diamond left for you” and sure enough, I already had the book.
I use books as an incentive to get me through life’s inevitable tasks I don’t like – like “if I finish this project on time, I get to read this book as a reward.” It works for me.
When I first started reading Marsha Mehran’s book about three Persian sisters starting up a cafe in a small Irish town after fleeing Iran, I found it sour. The author has a critical point of view, and generally speaking, I don’t like hanging around with people who criticize others and judge them harshly. At the beginning of the book, Mehran introduces a lot of people, many of whom we are not meant to like.
Even the sisters are not all that sympathetic – at the beginning. But also, near the beginning, she discusses Persian cooking, the idea of balance in a meal, hot and cold, spicy and bland, so you kind of get the idea that if there is sour, then there will also be sweet. In addition, at the end of each chapter there is a wonderful recipe, a wonderful, fairly easy-to-follow recipe, and she included one, Fesanjan, that is my all-time favorite Iranian dish and now, I know how to make it, Wooo HOOOO!
Three sisters, orphaned by fate, held together by love and duty, start a cafe, which, against all odds, becomes a raging success. Raging success does not heal all the old wounds, however, nor the hearts that bear them, and we learn through the book what the sisters have borne and overcome.
It turns out to be a sweet book, one well worth reading. And oh! the recipes! In each chapter, there are also hints that make them even better, so you can’t just copy out the recipes and use them, you really have to read the book. 🙂
It’s a pity that two of the most wonderful countries in the world – Syria and Iran – are off limits. We’ve been back to Syria, and it was everything we remembered (see the Walking Old Damascus blog entries) but oh, how we would love to explore Iran. Sigh. The world turns, and we can only hope to be able to get there in our lifetime. Stranger things have happened.
Little Mosque on the Corner
This is for my western friends, but anyone who sees me saying something wrong is welcome to jump in and fix it so it’s right.
We have a little mosque on the corner near our villa. Now, having a mosque on the corner is nothing special, in fact, when giving directions, it is kind of a joke, because you can give landmarks and then say “and you turn right at the mosque” but there are SO MANY mosques that using a mosque as a landmark is almost sure to confuse whoever is trying to find you.
Nonetheless, every neighborhood has its own mosque, and then there are bigger mosques where everyone gathers on Fridays, we call them Friday mosques, and then there are even bigger ones where everyone gathers on the two big holidays called Eids.
But this is our little neighborhood mosque:
I think it is very beautiful.
In the back, around this time of the year, they start a garden. I think it is for poor people to have something to eat, but I don’t know. I love it that they take a tiny little space and make it useful.
We live close enough to hear the call to prayer five times a day – it seems like more. There is the “get ready” call and then there is the real thing. During Ramadan, sometimes there are prayers over the microphone (it is on low) all night. It isn’t so intrusive; when it is hot and the air conditioning is on, you can’t even hear it. It’s kind of reassuring, to me, hearing someone praying all night long.
The Heart of Doha – Disney Does Doha?
“No, it’s not DOHALAND!” I snapped at my friend. ‘It’s called the ‘Heart of Doha’ project.”
We were exploring the project in it’s first phase, the destruction phase, which is turning old haunts into several circles of hell – shopping hell, driving hell, parking hell, disorientation hell. And just as we were inching our way into a new diversion, I saw the big sign describing the future this funky area of Doha and telling us to go to ‘Dohaland.com.’
Oops. I apologized profusely and she very humbly pretended not to be gleeful that she was right and I was wrong. Well, actually, we are both right. It is both ‘Dohaland’ and ‘The Heart of Doha,’ but I shouldn’t have snapped at her over something so inconsequential. Blame it on the rain . . . umm . . . .err . . . the traffic.
Dohaland. I’m sorry, it sort of cracks me up. It’s just like Disney – JungleLand, FutureLand, etc.
I remember when the Suq al Waqif project first started, how outraged I felt, and how delighted I am to go down there now, where the shop-keepers have electricity that is reliable, even air-conditioning wafting out into the corridors, the appearance of ancient woven mats shading the twisting cobblestone street which no longer reaches out and grabs your heels, or changes levels unexpectedly. How can you be a successful curmudgeon when it turns out so positively? Even if it is a little bit Disney-does-Doha, it is so attractive!
What I love about what has been accomplished so far is how it has enhanced the experience for everyone. If you go down into the souks, you see more people. You used to see only a few westerners, now you see all kinds, even tourists, even your neighbors; you see every nationality down in the souks now, and people are actually buying things, not just killing time. There is a great variety of shops and restaurants, and even if the parking spots are tiny, there is parking.
Have you visited the website yet? Dohaland.com? I love the vision, although in one shot with people in suits crossing the streets, I want to shout “Hurry! Hurry! Or you’ll get run over!”
Here is what it is going to look like – and you can go to the Dohaland website and get a great big full screen map:
And here is what it looks like now:
These machines are like huge dentist’s drills, with points that pound down into the hard-packed Qatar soil to break it up so that foundations can be built:
It’s not unlike house-cleaning. When you pull everything out of the closets, out from under the beds, the drawers, those piles of things in the corner, for a while everything looks worse than it did before you started. Slowly, slowly, you create areas of organization and calm amidst the chaos, and slowly, slowly those areas expand, join, until the chaos is eliminated, you know where things are, and your living area is a calm and peaceful and organized oasis. I hope I get to see that day in Doha.
Update: Dohaland AKA Heart of Doha is now known as Musherib
Mermaid Fabric
One of the things my friend and I were seeking on our Souk Quest was mermaid fabric. My friend has a grand daughter who loves to be The Little Mermaid, and I knew that the exact right fabric existed in the souk, I had seen it and didn’t have any excuse to buy it.
We found it. It is perfect – sea green, and shiny scales:
Doha is full of wonderful fabrics for dress-up.
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