Qatteri and Kuwaiti Gazingas
We’ve lived in so many different places and dealt with so many currencies, you’d think we’d be used to it by now, but there is always that confusing time at the beginning, when you are mentally trying to multiply and divide and figure out how much things cost. Generally speaking, we call it the gazinga problem, gazinga being our family generic term for whatever currency we are currently using.
I think the cost of food in Qatar is cheaper, but to figure that out, I have to think what it costs here, translate that from Qatteri riyals to dollars, and then to translate that to Kuwaiti dinars. For example, the Vanilla Caramel coffee stuff I like is 2.250 in Kuwaiti dinars (when I can find it) which is about $8.25, and in Qatar, it is QR 15.50, which is $4.25, a significant difference.
Life in Kuwait became much simpler when my Kuwaiti friend told me “Just think about a Kuwaiti dinar being roughly equivalent to the dollar. Otherwise, you will go crazy.” He was right. When I would go grocery shopping and just think of it in dollars, life became much simpler. Every now and then, when I would multiply by 3.65 to figure out the cost in dollars, I would gasp and put the item back on the shelf. Life is simpler if you just go with it. Mostly, I would look for locally produced vegetables, eggs, etc., and that kept grocery costs down. It’s the imported stuff that gets crazy.
So, irrationally, when I have 500 riyals in my pocket, I feel RICH. I feel secure and protected. (500 riyals {$138} is approximately equivalent to 35KD {$128}). I can’t tell you the number of people who come into town in Qatar and offer to take us to dinner (we’ve learned – we always carry extra cash!) – and then when the bill comes, they are stunned – and embarrassed – that they don’t have enough riyals to cover the bill. It’s not that the places are that expensive – although some of them are – but that it all adds up so quickly, and a couple hundred gazingas may not cover a dinner for four.
In both Kuwait and Qatar, I make it a point to quickly learn where all the cash machines are, the ones for my bank, and the ones that you can use your US credit card in and get cash. You just never know when you are going to find something in a shop that doesn’t take credit cards, or find that you are low on cash and still have a couple stops before you get home. Like knowing where the clean toilets are; it’s a matter of survival. 🙂
In Qatar, 100 Qattari riyals is about $27.50, so when doing rapid calculations, I figure it is around $25, then I add a little.
We are working on getting rid of the pigeons. It took a while – when AdventureMan went to the management and said he wanted the pigeons gone, they didn’t understand him. We say “pijjens” and they say “oh! pij-ee-owns!” The cleaning crew came and cleared out the awful nest yesterday, and only one pigeon came to try to spend the night. I threw pencil erasers at him (I had to gather them all up this morning) and then clanked a big stick. Today I am going to buy a water pistol.
The cleaning crew asked if I wanted to have my windows washed, and oh, yes, I did. It really helps to have lived here before. I know that if you want your windows washed, you can go to the desk, they will schedule it and they charge you around 500 riyals – still a bargain, by stateside standards – about $128 for a two story house with some very hard-to-get-to windows. But if you ask the cleaning crew on the compound, they will come during their time off and charge about half – and all the money goes to the guys who clean the windows. I now have bright, shiny windows – I don’t think they had been washed on the outside since I left over three years ago. Now – they sparkle!
Banks in Kuwait and Qatar are way ahead of banks in the US with their use of technology. When I took money out of our bank account yesterday, AdventureMan called me immediately and asked if I had just taken money out of the account. They had SMS’d him what had been taken out and what was left!
My household goods were delivered two weeks ago today. There are still a few remaining little nests of things that need places, but – not much! We walk around the house with that satisfied feeling of knowing things are in their place, where we can find them insh’allah, when we need them, and there are no more boxes, no more piles – it looks pretty good! Even AdventureMan got his room all in order – Now he walks out of his room and says “Oh! It feels so good to walk in and everything is put away!” and he has a huge grin on his face.
Little Diamond arrives tomorrow night. We can hardly wait. 🙂
Progress
The living room is now an island of sanity, but the women’s majlis has descended into semi-insanity until I get the book cases there together.
The kitchen remains an island of sanity, as does the guest bedroom.
The master bedroom has some insane corners.
The office and the quilt room are the big challenge.
One little Pigeon has flown, but . . . he doesn’t seem to be able to get back to the ledge. He is hiding behind a large flower pot on my porch. Theother one shows signs of being interested, but hasn’t taken the leap. I wish the little one on the ground would fly – until he does, he is just . . . cat food!
And in case any of you are really reading this far – I’m going to become a grandmother! WOOOOO HOOOOOOO!
Sealine Resort, Doha, Qatar
Qatar just isn’t that big. You can take a day trip, and actually, it’s more like a half a day trip, or even an hour trip. AdventureMan wanted to find his way to Wakra and to the SeaLine Resort, and I wanted to see the big dunes, not as big as in Namibia but pretty impressive, with their sinuous lines.
There are about a hundred different vendors renting out ATVs for racing across the dunes, even in this heat, and it was not easy finding virgin sand dunes, untracked by ATV wheels. We went on an ATV dune safari in Namibia, out of Soussesvlei Lodge, and it was fantastic. I love ATVs. I expect that anything that is so much fun can’t be good for you. It’s probably bad for the dunes . . . anyone?
When we got to Doha before, six plus years ago, I rented a limo and driver to take me and Little Diamond out to the resort and dunes. He kept showing us things on the way, like Wakra, etc. and we were a little restless. But it only took like 20 minutes, even with all the sightseeing, and we were there. We ran up the dunes, we looked for seashells, we walked in the sea, we did everything – and we were back in Doha by 11 in the morning. We laughed – we hadn’t realized, looking at the map, how close it was. The driver must have thought we were crazy.
Sealine also looked a little seedy to me – then. This time when we drove up, it looked very different. It looked all spruced up. The people working there had on clean, neat looking uniforms, and they looked like they were doing their jobs. We took a look at the chalets (cool) and at the villas (also cool) right on the umm. . . errr. . . SeaLine! Waves rolling up, almost to your doorstep – it is pretty lovely. We were planning a stay there when we noticed multiple vehicles at most villas and chalets – and whereas we love to go to sleep to the sound of waves, we kinda thought hmmm. . . this could be a place where the party starts around midnight.
It’s beautiful.
This shot is taken from the main section of the hotel, but to each side, where the chalets are and the villas are, the sea is almost right on your doorstep.
Qatar is a conservative country. There are separate areas for men who are not accompanying their wives and children.
And there is a whole different kind of beachwear! (I blurred the faces to protect their privacy.)
As we were leaving, we spotted two little Qatteris finishing their brunch with gusto!
Ready to Fly Away
The baby pigeons are up, walking around and fluttering their wings – until I open the window to take a photo, and then they go into the if-we-hide-our-faces-she-can’t-see-us-mode. Daddy pigeon makes noises deep in his throat which I understand to mean “Go away.”
This may be the last photo. They seem to me to be getting ready to fly, and once that happens, we will clean out the area and hope they don’t come back. I love the sound of their voices, but I totally hate pigeon poop.
Photos of Chaos
. . . this is just the upstairs area. The kitchen is already good, the downstairs living room – haven’t even started. This is what chaos looks like:
” . . . And miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.”
Enough! vs “Just in Case”
As I unpack boxes . . . and boxes . . . and boxes . . . I find myself thinking “How much is ENOUGH??”
What is it with women and shoes? Just before we moved, I told you about our short trip to France and Germany when I bought some truly yummy shoes but now, as I am putting shoes away, I wonder how many pairs of shoes I really need. I have some – the French shoes – that I actually wear all the time, in fact some of them are old friends now and really need to go to shoe heaven but I keep telling myself “Just one more time!” before I send them on their way. Others, I have bought “just in case” and they are pristine. One actually still has the shoe store tags on them. I have a lot of these, and every time I consider giving them away, I think “but what if I need to wear that particular dress that those shoes go with??” and I hold on for . . . another move.
Moving often motivates me to part with my old friends, and even with some new friends (we’re talking about shoes here) that didn’t quite make the grade. Then again, as I am unpacking, I am wondering “will I really ever wear these again?” And – once again, I hang on to them, just in case I MIGHT need them at some hypothetical time in the future.
I have finally stopped buying dressy evening clothes. I have some really cool ones, so cool that when we go out to a rare dressy event, I usually wear what I love and feel comfortable in. If you have to sparkle, you want to know you look good! I always used to buy ahead – just in case – because the time to be buying a dress is NOT when you need it; when you really, seriously NEED it, you can never find exactly what you want and you settle for something that is not quite right and sometimes at the last minute you ditch it and go back to an oldie-but-goodie that you know works for you. For us, for most Americans, serious dress events seem to becoming fewer. Even charitable events aren’t as dressy as they used to be – partly, I am guessing, because of the economy, but it may be demographics. The baby boomers are getting older – they may not care about dressing up the way they used to.
I think my Mom still has a lot of her evening gowns from the days when she and my Dad went to balls . . . 🙂 but she still loves to go shopping when a family wedding is coming up.
I’ve actually done just fine with the clothes I brought with me. If not a single item of clothing had shown up . . . well, yeh, I’d have been in trouble. I would have needed a few things. I needed an evening purse for the Army birthday ball, even though I had thought to bring the dress.
The other item both AdventureMan and I have a real problem with is books. Even though I get rid of a lot of books, I pass them along, there are still a lot we hang on to, can’t seem to give them up. We haul a lot of books around, and we still have boxes and boxes of books in storage that we haven’t seen for many years. Is there such a thing as “enough” when it comes to books?
I think I am about a third of a way through the boxes. I conceive it as creating “islands of sanity” in the midst of chaos. My kitchen is always the first island of sanity, and there is always a path to our bed and the bed itself which is clear. Today, our bedroom became another island of sanity.
Little Diamond, the guest room is an island of sanity. 🙂
The Women’s majlis (the small living room downstairs) is an island of sanity.
Where is the chaos? We spend a lot of time in our upstairs family room; it is also our office; it is also an area of utter chaos.
Our living room – I haven’t even started on the boxes in the living room. It is a bedlam of insanity. Many of the boxes contain books, and I have to have places to put all the books before I can put them away. It may stay insane for a little while.
The lady who comes to help me clean came today, and I had a list of things for her to do which mostly did not include cleaning because you can’t really clean when things are chaotic. She and I work well together, she works in her areas and I work in mine with a brief chat-chat-chat now and then when our paths cross. As she was leaving, she showed me how she had broken down all the boxes, hauled them to a small room and stored them neatly, and put all the ones full of paper outside in another holding area . . . that wasn’t on the list. She is a gem. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. I’m going to have to give her a bonus this month. 🙂 She also takes care of cats when people go away, even taking them to the vet if the cat gets sick. She is worth every penny.
I start every morning around seven. I quit around five, take a shower (I need it!) and clean up. I have about an hour before AdventureMan even thinks about coming home, so I thought I would take a chance to have a chat with you.
So I ask you – what does “enough” look like? When is it prudent to buy “just in case” and when does it become consumerism?
Household Goods Arrive
Sorry, friends, I know I have been off-line, but our household goods arrived, went through customs today and were delivered this afternoon, the first day of the great Doha HUMIDITY. I really felt sorry for the guys having to carry everything in. While the current temperature reads 98°F / 37°C, the humidity is 52% – your sunglasses steam as soon as you leave your house or car. You go through about three changes of clothing a day – your clothes stick to you. You drip sweat, if you are outside for any length of time – or if your doors are open so boxes can come in. It’s pretty awful, and I am thankful that although all my stuff is pretty well baked, it was not steamed.
I got most of the kitchen stuff unpacked, and then AdventureMan and I looked at each other and laughed and said “We quit!” Moving used to be more fun.
I’ve got a couple mountains to move, and I will be back with my normal commentary.
Gross!
Our son asked how the baby pigeons are doing. They are doing fine. They are huge! Yesterday, I saw the largest one stretch his legs and take a couple steps!
I also know now how pigeons feed their babies. Pigeons are just gross, or at least these wild pigeons who have chosen my villa are gross. (I am sure that Bu Yousefs pedigreed pigeons are much more refined than these wild pigeons. 😉 ) They poop on my front porch. To feed their babies, they eat and then they come back and shake all over and make themselves throw up and the babies go wild and eat right out of their beaks.
I know, I know, it is all part of God’s perfect plan and nothing is gross . . . but it FEELS gross to me!
As we were entering the compound the other night, we saw one of the compound wild cats, young, skinny, and oh-so-proud, head high, carrying a pigeon almost as big as he/she was. You couldn’t help but laugh, even though the pigeon was sadly dead, but that cat was strutting! He/She knew he was going to have a great meal in just a minute, once he got that pigeon to a safe, secret place!
Friday Lunch with AdventureMan at Assaba
After all these years, we know each other so well.
“Where are we going to eat today?” he asks as we leave church.
“It’s your turn to choose” I tell him.
“No, no, it’s your turn,” he insists, “I chose Ruby Woo’s last Thursday night.”
“No. You didn’t. I did,” I tell him, and remind him that I also chose another place later in the week, but it was a place that he really likes.
What he wants me to do is to throw out my idea and then he shoots it down. Sometimes I throw out three ideas, and he shoots them all down!
“What are you in the mood for, what kind of food?” I ask him. Usually he doesn’t like a lot of meat, so I am surprised, really surprised, when he says Lebanese. When we lived in Kuwait, he almost never chose Lebanese except for Tanureen, where they had such good fish.
“Yeh, but now there is no good Lebanese restaurant near where I work,” he replies, “and I am missing Lebanese food.”
I know just the place. My two pool buddies took me to lunch there back in January when I visited. I THINK I know how to get there, and, as it turns out, I do! (It’s always a disaster trying to find a place when your husband is really, really hungry.) It’s called Assaba, and it is like entering a different world. They’ve taken a very humdrum building, and re-facaded and decorated the ground level and one flight up to resemble a Lebanese Village. It is a lot of fun.
We ordered mostly mezze (appetizers) and an order of shish taouk to share. (Shish taouk is boneless chicken pieces that have been marinated in lemon juice and a little garlic and yoghurt, for those who don’t know about it. It is delicious, and often served with a mighty garlic – mayonnaise. )
We agreed that the very very best dish of all was the Mohammara, a dish made of finely chopped walnuts, red peppers and a few other things. (Mishary, on Some Contrast, printed a great recipe.)
We had hummous with something that tasted a little like liver, and baba ghanoush, and meatless chickpea moussaka:
And this is how the shish taouk looks when it arrives, with hot bread to keep it warm:
It was a magnificent meal. We ate too much. It was just so pleasant, sitting there, great food, beautiful surroundings, us all relaxed after church and mellow. AdventureMan came back from washing his hands all excited – “You’ve got to go use the Ladies Room! See if they have a beaten copper sink! I want one of those!”
I did, and this is what it looks like:
I think we might have to take another trip to Damascus, and bring it back with us. Do you know what a designer in the US would charge us for a sink like that?? We can go, find a sink, spend time in a city we love and come back for what the cost of the sink would be in the US.
I want the door:
I think I had better have it made here!
Here is the shower he wants, from Robin’s House at Nkwali Camp, in Zambia:
Even Friday lunch with AdventureMan is an adventure. 🙂
Thick
Pete, also known as The Qatteri Cat, loves living back in Qatar except for one tiny little detail. Suddenly Mom, as he thinks of me, has become particularly thick.
He, on the other hand, is making things very clear.
“Miao! Mioaw! Miaow!” he hollars, winding his way through my legs, guiding me to the nearest door the the heaven he can see – OUTSIDE!
I ignore him. He is not going outside. There are some very mean street cats out there, and also some very mean people who put out poisoned fish to kill the mean street cats. Either or both would be very bad to a cream puff who has lived indoors all his life.
“Not all my life!” he assures me, remembering his origins as a street cat – well, a street kitten, abandoned on the Corniche in Doha. And, from time to time, he would break free and spend a happy half hour roaming, and then another less happy couple hours trying to figure out 1) how to get down the very tall tree or 2)how to get out of the yard he jumped into that has a high, unscalable wall or 3) where home is. We spare him those problems and keep him inside. There is lots to keep his attention, but none of it matters, he yearns to be OUTSIDE!
Poor Pete!
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