Serious About Traffic Regulation in Doha, Qatar
We were all at dinner, having a wonderful time when the traffic issue came up.
“There’s so much traffic now!” they were all saying.
To me, traffic in Doha is pretty tame. It’s been six years since we were here for the first time, and Doha was still “sleepy little Doha.” We took photos of the changing skyline almost monthly from the spit where the Bandar restaurants used to be (one day they just disappeared!) and gasped at how fast Doha was changing.
There are a lot of changes. Traffic on the ring roads has been greatly streamlined, although it seems they continue to engineer D ring, over and over again. I just hope one day they will get it right and it will be open, all the way from the road to the north to the airport.
There are traffic lights at the roundabouts, and the traffic flows so smoothly I am astounded. There is still a lot of traffic around the seven to nine at night shopping/dining/visiting time, but the traffic lights have regulated the formerly death-defying roundabouts.
“Go! Go!” I told AdventureMan as the light started flashing green, and he just looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
“Flashing green means STOP!” he informed me.
“Flashing YELLOW means stop,” I informed him right back.
“Not in Qatar,” he said with the tone of voice that says ‘don’t argue this point with me.’
At dinner I learned he was absolutely right. If you enter a traffic circle on a flashing green and the light changes, the cameras – they are everywhere – will take your photo. They will take your photo and you will have a fine, a whopper of a fine, QR6,0000. That translates to around $1,700 in US Dollars. Gasp. And – here’s the cruncher – it is ENFORCED.
There was a time when I lived in Qatar before when the huge SUV behind me pushed me into the roundabout when I wasn’t moving fast enough for him. You still see the cowboys drive up on the sidewalks to cut across an empty field, but there are fewer and fewer of those empty fields left in Qatar. There is none of the speeding and weaving along the ring roads we used to see – there are cameras EVERYWHERE. People get fines for waiting at the airport doors, instead of parking. People get significant fines for going even 10 km over the speed limit. Points are assessed for moving violations, and they add up fast.
I’m going to have to improve my driving skills. I developed some aggressive habits, driving in Kuwait, and I am going to have to tone it down to survive the cameras in Qatar.
I am very interested to see how rapidly behavior can change when penalties are enforced. I am truly (and happily) shocked an how effective it can be. I await with great interest the year-end statistics, to see how the accident rate has been brought down – I bet we all get a very good surprise.
Moving: The Challenges
When I was a young military wife, with every move I would fume at AdventureMan “You walk right into a job where everyone knows who you are; you have a life all cut out for you! I have to find the right grocery store, the right dry-cleaner, the right tailor, the right key-maker, (blah blah blah, whine whine whine)”
This move, by the Grace of God, has been so much easier. Honestly, God sent angels to smooth the way, even the delay in travel was a protection against the heartache of losing a beloved pet. Having my good friend here, who passed along transformers, lists, phone numbers, a great cleaning woman, recommendations – priceless. Having maintenance people show up the very first day and take care of all the little things that can take months – priceless. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of at least three great supermarkets – priceless.
I have two large supermarkets very near, two more relatively near, and two more within maybe 15/20 minutes, depending on the traffic.
At the LuLu, which is HUGE, I found these wonderful local eggs (this is just the wrapper, and yes, I am that shallow, I bought these eggs because they are local and because I love the wrapper, I think it is adorable:
At the MegaMart, I am blown away by how much Skim Milk they have. In Kuwait, I would schedule my trips to the market by when milk was delivered in order to get my skim milk:
The MegaMart also has a huge Japanese food section, a slightly smaller Philipino food section, and holy smokes! Look at this:
Not just taco shells or “taco dinner” kits – a whole section with a huge variety of Mexican food supplies. Hmmmmm. . . .I think I know what’s for dinner tonight! 🙂
Turkey Central
Going back to Turkey Central on Merqab Street in Doha, was both like a home coming, and a big surprise. It was the second place AdventureMan took me when I arrived the first time in Doha (Fakr al Din, the first place, is no longer there), and it was a place a lot of people hung out.
Through the years, it has had a roller-coaster reputation, sometimes closed for renovations, sometimes closed for health / sanitation violations, but – when open – packed with people in search of reasonably priced, outstandingly tasty dishes.
It’s not one of AdventureMan’s favorite places, but it is one of mine! 😉 So the night we went to the Doha Clinic to get our blood-types – beginning the endless process of paperwork and hurdles for our residency in Qatar – he agreed to take me to Turkey Central.
Oh, YUM.
In the first place, when we walked in it all looks immaculately clean. Cooks and servers are wearing hats to keep stray hair from falling into food. Tables are now granite, chairs are comfy.
The food is wonderful. The place is packed. Our old friend sees us come in and comes over to greet us. We feel at home.
We decided to try some new mezzes (appetizer / salads) instead of our same old, same old hummous, tabouli, mouttable. We tried the chili salad (made of sweet red peppers, not the hot kind, and excellent), the baba ghannoush (actually, we have had this before at TC and love it ) and the moussaka (no meat moussaka) which we both agreed was THE BEST.
The best part of all is the Turkey Central bread, hot, fresh from the oven, and covered with sesame seeds:
AdventureMan ordered the Mixed Grill:
and I ordered my old favorite, shish taouk (marinated, grilled boneless chicken pieces):
Too much food! I walked out with a big bag of leftovers, enough to cover a week of lunches!
Our Neighborhood Mosque
Among expats, we have a joke – “Turn right at the mosque.” It’s a joke, because we all start out giving directions like that until we realize how many mosques there are! You can’t even say “turn right at the white mosque” or “turn left at the blue mosque” because many of the mosques have a decoration or two that could also qualify. Giving directions that include mosques, in a Moslem country, is just not do-able.
To get to our house, you turn right at the mosque. 🙂
This little mosque is just yards from our house. During the nights of power (during the last ten days of Ramadan) you can hear people praying quietly the entire night through. It never bothers me; if I wake up, it makes me feel safe and I go back to sleep again. It is a totally different sound from the angry sermon type sounds that you can hear from some mosques on Fridays – it is soothing and soulful.
I am sorry, it is beautiful at night, but I will have to work at getting a better photo for you.
In the back of the mosque, they have a garden, with vegetables growing, I am guessing to help out the poor in our neighborhood to have fresh food with their rice.
The Doha Anglican Church
Back in Doha, church at the same time as always but for once, we are late because we didn’t realize the traffic pattern had changed, and we got lost, briefly, making us walk in after the service had started. As we walked in, we were greeted by a man we knew well when we used to attend, and he was so happy to see us! The congregation is about double the size as when we used to attend, may familiar faces, even after all these years, and there are our old friends, and they have saved two seats for us. 🙂
The service was a happy combination – familiar service sheet, familiar – and much loved – music, but some new things, too, more people serving, a little more formal service, and a priest-policeman who gave a powerful testimony. Soon, we understand, we will be able to start meeting on the new compound, where the big church will be built, and many congregations will share the same buildings, as they do at the Kuwait NEC.
Later, talking with my friend, we were talking about the policeman-preist’s testimony.
“I’m a little confused,” my friend started, “I got the impression testimony was an emotional story about how people get born-again, and he used those words, but it wasn’t like in the evangelical churches.”
“Yeh,” I responded, “being ‘born again’ encompasses a wide variety of experiences. You get the impression it has to come like a mighty wind, blowing you away, but this guy talks about listening to the gentle nudge, that is also the work of the holy spirit.”
“It was so gradual!” she exclaimed. “I thought it had to be like one great emotionally moving experience.”
“So what happens if you are born in the church, you are baptized and you believe from the time you are a little child?” I asked her. “And what happens if after being ‘born again’ you make some huge mistake, do you get ‘born again born again’?”
It’s all a question of style, how the holy spirit comes to each individual, how we believe. It isn’t right or wrong; it is how the spirit speaks to you. One of the things Jesus said over and over was to concern ourselves with our own relationship to God, and not with our neighbor’s short-comings. He said we each had enough of our own short-comings to keep us busy for an entire life. When he wants us to be involved with our neighbors – and we know who our neighbors are – it is with an open and helping hand, not a pointing finger.
The essence, in my mind, is the belief, and the listening, in your heart, for the whispers of the holy spirit. I pray to hear it, when it whispers. There are enough gales in my life – like moving, for example – I don’t need a mind-blowing, scales falling from my eyes experience, although the spirit has used one or two in my life to get my attention. I mostly just need to listen better.
Pigeon Update
One egg hatched! There is a tiny, scrawny, downy little creature. I don’t want to take a photo because I don’t want the Mama pigeon to be gone too long, even in the heat, the little baby needs the Mama. Pete is now sleeping in that room where he can keep an eye on the pigeons.
Some Are Silver and the Others Are Gold
Life gets funny when you move. Like 5 minutes after I landed, my Kuwait phone stopped working except for advertisements. The company provided me with a loaner, just so AdventureMan could keep in contact with me, and then like a light bulb going on in my head, I checked to see if the problem was lack of money – yep.
I used to have a phone plan. I am not a big phone user. I discovered those wonderful Hala cards, and at the very max might use 10KD per month – I really am a light user.
When I arrived, my good friend two villas down had her movers – she is leaving. We had like six days of overlap. Three of those days, she had her movers there and I had people here helping me get the new villa set up. We would grab a few minutes when we could – not even enough time for a cup of coffee, but as I left, I thought “this is just like old times.” We’ve both always had busy lives, and we would grab time together when we could.
In the USA, when kids go to camp, we learn songs. It occurs to me that many cultures transmit cultural values in songs – I know I can still remember French and Spanish songs I learned in language classes . . . there must be something about singing that imprints things in your memory. One of the songs is:
Make new friends – but keep the old,
One is silver and the other is gold.
You sing it once, all together, and then you divide into four groups and sing it as a round until it is all finished. You sing it when you are leaving camp, and you cry.
Of course, we are all grown up now. We don’t cry when friends leave. (Liar! Liar!)
The movers are gone, my friend SMS’d me “how about a swim tomorrow?” and I SMS’d back “Sure!”
We lolled around in the pool, sort of theoretically exercising, but her equipment is en route back to the USA and mine is en route from Kuwait, so we were pretty lax, sort of bobbing around and laughing and catching up. She is trying to bring me up to speed on what is going on in Qatar, and I am trying to remember everything she is telling me. We walk home, head in our separate directions again. I have a loaner car, and I get to go grocery shopping ALL BY MYSELF!
I am down to putting away my last two bags of groceries when my loaner phone rings and it is my good friend saying “I have to drop my son at school, have you eaten, want to have a late lunch?” and I laugh and say “sure” and we plan to meet at 1:30, but the QTEL (Telephone) man comes (the company sent him so I wasn’t expecting him) and the problem is too complicated, so he will come back and I just barely have enough time to get to the meeting-up restaurant.
Ooops – no, forget that, I am going to be late, I had forgotten about the traffic, so I break the law and call my friend on my mobile and say “I’m going to be another five minutes at least, I am so sorry, go ahead and order for me” and she just laughs.
We have a great lunch together, still catching up on all I need to know, and I ask if they have plans for dinner tonight and she says “no” and I say we would love to have them come to our house for something simple. Like I have napkins; the ones she gave me because they were leaving, but I don’t even have a tablecloth with me, it will be something casual like spaghetti and salad and garlic bread and she says she thinks they would just love that kind of evening but she has to check with her hubby.
We talk talk talk and then her hubby calls and she forgets to ask if he can do dinner with us, but then my hubby calls and says we need to do blood work for our residency and can we do dinner another night (we already have another date set up with them) and so I get off and have to say “uh, I am sorry, but I have to take back that dinner invitation.”
This all seems convoluted and round about, but this is where those GOLD friends come in. She just starts laughing (I love it when she cracks up) and says “OK! But I’m NEVER going to let you forget this! You WITHDREW an invitation!” and then we are both laughing and oh, Lord have mercy, I am so thankful just to have a little overlap with this crazy friend, and oh, how I am going to miss her.
Some friends are just THERE, they know what the important things are. This friend has me all set up with a really good cleaning lady who will start on Saturday, she told me the really good tailor she has found, the best car rental place, and which car wash guy to keep far away from. She borrowed a cup of laundry soap. Tomorrow, she needs to come here and iron her son’s shirt for graduation, and she and her husband are bequeathing to us their leftover (legal! legal!) booze. Here is what takes it beyond gold – our husbands like each other, too. Our cats . . . not so much. Her cat wants to make nice, my cat gets all hissy.
Inside this grown up expat body is still the little Girl Scout from camp, making new friends, and treasuring the old . . .
Pet Peeve
Well, it’s not so much a pet peeve as a personal preference. When I arrived in Doha, I found “sets” in all my bathrooms.
They weren’t garish, as you can see, they were just there, thick and fluffy, a toilet seat cover, a toilet mat, a bidet mat and a bathmat. None of them had rubber backings, which I consider a basic for a bathmat, which I DO like.
The others, I just consider dust catchers, and worse – unsanitary. Germ catchers. I took them all off, even though they were all brand new, I like the cleaner to be able to really clean all the bathrooms.
When I went to put them in the cupboard, the cupboard almost exploded with totally new “sets” all of which had been taken off by former corporate occupants. It is a total hoot.
I have asked AdventureMan to ask what is needed to get rid of these – if the sponsor wants them back (eeeewwwwwwww!) or if I can put them out for the trash guys who can sell them to someone who will sell them in the weekend market?
We also have a cupboard full of used DVD and Video players; I think previous occupants have been afraid to get rid of them. Another cupboard with four broken coffee makers, LLLOOOLLL.
Pete’s Pigeon
“There’s an ongoing problem with the pigeons,” the former resident told my husband.
I remember the pigeons. We all have these two story entries, and the pigeons love them. The problem is, that they nest, and so when company comes, there might be pigeon droppings in your entry – aaarrgh.
I’ve always loved the sound of pigeons coo-ing, so it didn’t bother me so much. I pay the gardener a little extra and he makes sure the entry is cleaned every day. When guests are coming, I scrub any late additions myself.
LLLOOLL, I can see they have installed beds of nails to keep the pigeons from roosting.
Our resident pigeon has two perfect eggs; she pooped enough to build up a foundation above the nails, and now she roosts, safely, on the sharp nails. She takes turns with another pigeon, I am guessing the male, sitting on the eggs.
Sorry for the poor quality of these photos, but the windows are dirty, salt streaked, and I am shooting through a screen. Also, I don’t know which one is the daddy or mommy pigeon, or even if they are daddy and mommy or mommy and friend. I don’t know that much about pigeons, I just love the sound of their voices. I guess I should be appalled by the pigeon poop, but I feel lucky to have two pigeon eggs, and protective pigeon parents, it seems like a good omen to me.
It would be a health issue if any of the pigeon windows opened, but none of them do. When the eggs hatch, and the pigeons fly off, I will get the guys with the tall ladders to come clean the dropping off – again – and hope they will roost in another spot next nesting season.
Pete thinks this is the greatest show on earth. He has windows all over the house, and there is always something happening. The gardener is watering the lawn in back (well the dust in back, but we are going to have the trees cut back so the lawn and bougainvillea will grow once again), washing off the entry in front, the birds are flying in and out of the trees, the pigeon is roosting on her eggs, or flying off to find some bugs or whatever pigeons eat. He is losing his excess weight (I hope I am too!) running up and down the stairs. He is NOT bored! Anything but bored! He loves this place.
Safely in Doha
Yes, my friends, we are safely in Doha, with the normal out-of-touch sort of things that happen when you move. For some reason, and partly it’s because I am a technology dunce, unless things are clearly spelled out in the instruction booklets, I could never figure out how to include the plus sign in phone numbers, and without them, things don’t seem to be working. I still have my Kuwait phone, but I all my messages fail, and the only ones I am getting are from advertisers.
Just after I wrote the last entry, a team of FOUR customer service – or maybe three and some slightly more elevated personages – a guy in a suit with a radio – came to get me in the lounge; they were taking me to see my cat. The lounge – God bless them abundantly – came up with a plate of salmon for Pete, and with my escort, we went down to immigration.
This is the really funny part – and it’s all technicalities, but my residence visa has been cancelled, and I have been stamped out of the country, so I cannot go to Lost and Found where Pete is being held pending our flight, the immigration police are very clear about that, but since he is just baggage, they can send someone to bring Pete to me.
Surrounded by my escort, and now also by four or five immigration policemen, they bring Pete to me, and I get to give him a little scratch under the chin and collar, he gets to hear my voice. He is not terrified, but he is healthily intimidated by all the unknown persons and noises – and he is alert, so alert. He is not hungry. His pupils are dilated. I only keep him for about three minutes when I send him back; I am holding up about ten people at this point, all of whom dropped their duties so that I could comfort my cat.
When it came time for my flight, I asked the lounge to call Lost and Found and find out when the cat would be loaded, and the answer was – he was just being loaded now. I checked again at the gate, and they were prepared. Everyone apologized profusely, and explained that the pilot on the first flight just could not take a chance; the ventilation in the pressurized cargo compartment was not working and he didn’t want to put Pete at any risk. God bless him. I don’t mind the inconvenience; I honor his carefulness. Sometimes what appears to be an inconvenience is really a protection; the blessing I had this time was to know and understand that this, truly, was a blessing.
But I also needed to tell you about it, or you might have the wrong impression. It was not an airplane annoyance. It was a conscientious pilot. Thanks be to God.
Pete was carted separately to and from the plane, and hand carried to me in arrivals. LOL, I had no other baggage, just Pete! I got through the screening quickly, AdventureMan had schmoozed his way into arrivals and was there with the importation paperwork, and we were out of the airport in a flash, and in our villa a mere ten minutes later.
Another LOL, by the way, at all of you who like the name Qatteri Cat better than Pete! Honestly, one reason I don’t unveil is that as long as I am Intlxpatr, married to AdventureMan, I am so much more interesting than the very ordinary person that I really am!
Pete will always be the Qatteri Cat, because he was found, as a small, tiny, hungry kitten, wandering on the Doha Corniche by a family who had to give him up when he was around 5 months. I loved him the minute I saw him, but he only had eyes for AdventureMan. And poor AdventureMan, he was so worried about Pete he was in a nervous tizz when we arrived, he had been so afraid something would go wrong.
Seeing the two of them reunite in Doha was a beautiful sight. Pete’s food and cat litter were all set up, and he has a whole new environment to explore.
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