Doha Changes
As well as the bulldozers razing entire areas, there are smaller changes taking place in Doha. A supermarket, The Q-Mart, open the first time I was living in Doha, and still open when I got here, has closed – for good – as the guard told us when we went to buy some produce. Q-Mart always had the best produce.
And when I went to show some visiting friends the Esphahan, the Iranian restaurant down at the Souq al Waqif, the door was closed tight and this sign was on the door:
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. 🙂 )
The Kitty Ritz Pet Hotel in Kuwait
I’ve been wanting to tell you about a wonderful place we found in Kuwait, the Kitty Ritz.
(this is a photo from the KittyRitz website)
The Qatari Cat stayed at the Kitty Ritz for three weeks last December. Located on the top floor of a building in Salmiyya (and yes, it’s walk up all the way), the Kitty Ritz has separate “rooms” for each cat with a bed, cat dishes and cat litter box. You can bring your cat’s favorite blanket, favorite toy and even food, although they will provide your cat’s favorite food if it is available in Kuwait.
They have cat social play, where cats who are good with other cats can mingle and play outside the cage for a while. If you cat is not so good with other cats, he can be outside later, with no other cats.
The cost was reasonable, not cheap, but not so expensive we wouldn’t keep him there.
We weren’t really sure how The Qatari Cat would do. He is spoiled. He is an only cat. He is pampered. We weren’t sure how he would handle being around a lot of other cats, strange noises, strange smells. It’s kind of like sending your child off to kindergarten. You have to drop off, say a cheery “bye bye!” turn your back and LEAVE before you lose your courage, or worse – start crying.
One of the things we loved was that they sent us photos of The Qatari Cat. Now the truth was, The Qatari Cat was not a happy camper. In the first photo they sent us, he was in his cat “room” looking totally fuming mad, like “go away and LEAVE ME ALONE!”
In the second photo, sent a few days later, he is having a bath, and he is mad as hell. You might think this is tragic, but actually, it was hysterically funny. We knew he had survived, we hoped the people bathing him had survived, and we knew he wasn’t bored.
By the third week, there were photos of him out with the other cats. He was adjusting.
When we picked him up, he was all sweet-smelling and clean, and oh-so-happy to see us.
The Kitty Ritz has some of the happiest, healthiest looking cats I have ever seen staying in a cat hotel. It is nice and warm, the people truly like cats and are sweet with them, and it smells CLEAN. We knew they took good care of him, and we knew he had a good time. For the Qatari Cat – he might look angry, but the very worst thing is being bored and lonely. The Kitty Ritz was just the place he needed to be.
You can find them online, fill out their simple questionaire, and send it to them as an attachment via e-mail.
Baking Cookies for Palestine
When I was just starting out my own life, I had an idea what kind of life I wanted, but I had no clue how to get it. When AdventureMan and I met, we had the same vision, it was so cool, so unbelievable. We married, and this amazing life has unfolded.
Not everyone is born to move. You have to be good at change. Change can be daunting. Some people are better at staying in one place, sinking deep roots, developing lifetime relationships. Some people – like AdventureMan and me – have a need for stimulation, and we get it by changing locations. We feel so blessed.
It is always painful leaving the place we have been living, pulling up roots is just plain painful. The transplantation process takes time for the organism to adjust, for new roots to develop and take hold. Sometimes, the plant fails. In our case, we have had our failures to thrive, but for the most part, every move has helped us to learn and grow in new ways. We feel truly blessed; we have the lives we were born to lead.
Arriving back in Doha, I called my good friend. We have never lost touch, with e-mail and visits we have stayed in contact, and now I am calling her so she has my new number in Doha.
“You must come Tuesday morning!” she enthused, “We are baking cookies for Palestine!”
This wonderful woman was my teacher for reading and writing Arabic, and she did a great job. I read and write about as well as a five-year-old, but I can sound out words, and can write my name. Best of all, I adored this teacher, and when she called and asked me if there was something I could teach her daughters during the long hot Doha summer, I said “yes” and a new adventure began.
One of the things that happened is that I learned I never really knew what the day might bring. Getting to know her, her daughters, and her family better, I learned now ignorant I am of how totally differently others live their lives and see the world. I was learning all the time, and most of it was from the daughters. On one occasion, the daughters called me at 6 in the morning – they are never up at six! They asked if I would take them to the hospital to see their mother, and I sleepily said “Yes, of course,” and asked what time they wanted to go.
“Now!” they replied, joyfully, for this was a birth.
My sweet daughter-in-law was visiting, with our son, and so the two of us rushed over to pick up the girls, who came loaded with carafes loaded with coffee, boxes of finjan (tiny Arabic coffee cups) and sweets, loading up the car with goods and joyful laughter. When we got to the hospital, we had a quick visit with the Mom and then – the guests started arriving.
First – the room. Our friend was in a king sized bed, surrounded by lush curtains which could be pulled. She had a marble floor and a marble private bathroom with private shower, and a small dressing room. There was a visiting area with velvet covered seating for around 16 people, and mahogany paneling everywhere. This is the poshest maternity ward I have ever seen.
Many of the guests were stopping on their way to work. “When you visit someone in the hospital,” the girls informed me, “a thousand angels pray for you, for having made this visit.” These visits are de rigueur, an absolute must. We were there an hour, a constant stream of women came and went, staying around ten minutes, each receiving a small coffee. Then, the girls told us we could go, that they would stay to take care of serving the coffee and sweets.
The entire episode, we never had one clue as to what we were doing, or what was going to happen next. I learned just to go with whatever was happening, stay quiet, watch and learn. Sometimes, I ask questions, if there is a quiet moment.
So when my friend says come bake cookies, I go. I remember when she first baked her first cookie; she called me to come. She didn’t have a mother, growing up, and there were gaps – like how to bake cookies. We spent a morning learning how to make mamool, and it took me three days to get the smell of butter out of my hands. It was so much fun.
As I entered the workroom twenty pair of eyes looked up at me. Everyone was neatly dressed in aprons and headscarves, but my friend wasn’t there! I found my friend, we exchanged greetings, and she came to workroom to get me started. I had my own apron with me, and they provided me with a headscarf; we all looked a lot alike, little baker women. As a beginner, I got to put out the dough, later put the date paste on each piece of dough, later roll the dough around the date paste and put a hole in the top.
Most of the women, vastly more experienced than I, were using little tweezer tools to crimp the dough into the fabulous tiny ridges you can see in the photo. My friend explained that one of the women’s husbands had made the special tools for making the holes in the dough, and the table for them to use packing up the cookies and wrapping them, another had provided a portable oven for baking the cookies, another donated semolina (the flour) and another the dates.
Working once a week, making these beautiful cookies, (biscuits, if you are British trained) the women have built two wells in Palestine, and are currently building a bakery. They took their grief and outrage over Al Raza and turned it into the most amazing effort for good. They feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, they clothe the poor, they take care of families whose men are imprisoned.
“You must come back!” one woman says as I am heading out the door. “You are a good worker!”
I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 🙂
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!
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.
Map of HIV Spread in Europe by Vacationers
Fascinating news from BBC Health News:
Scientists who have mapped HIV’s spread across Europe say holidaymakers infected abroad are largely to blame.
By analysing samples from 17 European countries, the international team tracked the movement of the virus around the continent.
Their map shows Greece, Portugal, Serbia and Spain are big HIV exporters, with many tourists to and migrants from these countries leaving with the virus.
The UK is an exporter and importer, Retrovirology journal says.
The same is true of Israel, Norway, the Netherlands, Sweden and Switzerland, while countries like Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Germany and Luxembourg are largely importers of HIV, the researchers say.
In Poland, HIV is contained but is spread among its inhabitants because of injecting drug-users, the research group found.
To construct their map, the researchers looked at the most common type of HIV circulating in Europe, known as HIV-1 subtype B.
They tracked its migration by creating a family tree for the virus, looking at detailed genetic characteristics that reveal how the virus has been evolving over time.
DIRECTION OF HIV SPREAD
Exporters: Greece, Portugal, Serbia and Spain
Both exporters and importers: Israel, Norway, the Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland and the UK
Importers: Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Germany and Luxembourg
Lead author Dimitrios Paraskevis, of the University of Athens, said: “Popular tourist destinations like Greece, Portugal and Spain probably spread HIV with tourists infected during their holidays.”
In the case of Serbia as an exporter, it is most likely down to its inhabitants travelling to other countries and carrying the virus with them, he said.
“To a large extent HIV spread within Poland is due to injecting drug-users, who make up around half of the HIV-infected population.
“Viruses move around with travellers – thus health programmes within countries should not only target the national populations, prevention efforts must also be aimed at migrants, travellers and tourists – who are both major sources and targets of HIV.”
Rowan Harvey, of the Terrence Higgins Trust, said: “HIV isn’t constrained by borders, it’s a global epidemic and there are bound to be patterns of transmission between countries.
“Tourists travelling abroad should definitely pack condoms, but people should also be aware that HIV is at its highest level in the UK as well.
“To protect yourself from HIV and other sexually transmitted infections, safer sex is essential both at home and abroad.”
Sanitary Germans
After all my years living in so many different places, I’m fairly blase about toilets. In Tunisia, there were no such thing as public toilets, and while exploring Tunisia, we always had to look for “the potty in the wadi”, i.e. a bridge with no-one in sight. I would run, pee as quickly as I could, and finish just before some curious child – or children – showed up. No matter how remote the place, I can’t remember a single stop that a child didn’t come running about sixty seconds after we stopped.
So I got a big smile at the public toilet in Germany – they started installing these about 20 years ago – that even cleans itself. I thought “I wonder how long these would last in Kuwait?” where they could put people our of jobs.
Yesterday, I used a public toilet in a very nice mall in Kuwait, but when I got there, a woman – I am guessing the “cleaner”, and I put it in quotes for a reason, was stretched out and sleeping. I looked in several stalls, no toilet paper, no problem, I carry my own. It didn’t seem all that clean, no paper for drying hands, either, and as I am leaving she holds out her hand and asks how I am, how is my health, etc. I usually tip – but I didn’t tip yesterday, why tip someone who is not doing the work she is paid to do? She didn’t even stand up, just held up her hand!
New Study Links Oral Sex to Throat Cancer
No, this is not an April fool’s joke. The article is found in Thursday’s BBC Health News, you can read the entire article by clicking on the blue type here.
Oral sex linked to throat cancer
A virus contracted through oral sex is the cause of some throat cancers, say US scientists.
HPV infection was found to be a much stronger risk factor than tobacco or alcohol use, the Johns Hopkins University study of 300 people found.
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