Saudi Arabia? Seriously?

We have just walked in the door from our ‘Inland Sea’ tour. We knew it included ‘dune-bashing’ (flying over the sand dunes in a Land Cruiser), dinner on the beach and a tour of the area around the sea. We tried to do a little more homework but didn’t come up with too much more information so we signed up to meet the driver at 2:00PM at Cicely’s house. Nazir was there right on time – tall, dark-haired taciturn young man who really did know how to drive a car.

Things started off okay and we drove for an hour to reach the edge of the desert where the tour really began. First we passed lots of ATV rental places – I counted at least 250 ATV’s lined up for rental along the side of the road. We passed one location and watched in amazement as a woman fully covered in black except for her eyes hopped on a large ATV and took off over the sands – Abaya billowing behind her. From where I sat it looked like she even wore black gloves. Then we passed a young man in a small dune buggy driving on two wheels – he stayed that way until he was completely out of sight!

Then the fun actually began. We stopped and waited and watched a group of French tourists ride camels while our driver had someone let most of the air out of our tires (they let enough out that anywhere else it would have been declared a flat tire). We passed on the camel rides and headed out over the dunes – we flew low and climbed fast – we literally drove so close to the edge that Cicely and I grabbed each other in the back seat and made loud scared noises and tried to laugh. My daughter pointed out that my poor husband who got stuck with the front seat because he has the longest legs was almost in a fetal position against the window holding on the handle with two hands. We climbed up dunes that if you had asked any sane person – it would have been impossible – like driving up a wall and then came down the other side full speed. Nazir drove very casually with one hand and sporadically would shift gears and steer when it seemed like we were headed over the edge. We flew over the top of one sand mountain and there were several parked cars lined up with the same group of French tourists. One car at a time was driving up the side of a huge dune, spinning out, sliding and careening around while we watched in awe. We were standing around waiting for our turn and then in unison the four adults said, “No, we are not doing that!”

One of the other drivers laughed at us and said, “See that woman. She is 88 years old! She sat in the back seat and yelled, Go! Go!” Now picture a small perfectly coiffed French woman with a beautiful silk scarf tied exquisitely around her neck and tiny black patent leather loafers. For just a minute I felt like an idiot and then Patrick said, “Yes, she is 88 and probably SENILE!”

So we ended up skipping that part of the trip and moved on to drive around what I think was the inland sea – a ‘little’ inland sea – where we found some beautiful sea shells, a piece of driftwood and looked across at Saudi Arabia! Somehow we came to the conclusion that this was not really the inland sea but some sort of tidal pool and will have to check on a map to see where we really went! The advertisement for the tour shows slip-covered chairs around a table on a pristine beach with beautiful dishes of Mediterranean food. The reality was a Bedouin tent on a beach overlooking oilrigs with plastic plates and cutlery with bottles of desalinated water! The food was good, the wind was brisk and with country music playing in the background – everything was fine until they started talking about “nighttime sand duning” on the way home – I didn’t quite get the details but I do know sitting with my eyes closed in the back seat, after taking a muscle relaxer for my back and clutching Cicely’s hand – it somehow involved launching from the top of a dune with the headlights turned OFF! I am not sure because I don’t think I opened my eyes until we were pulling into the station to have our tires inflated.

The driver really was very experienced and in hindsight – both my husband and daughter regretted not doing the driving up and down the side of the largest sand dune I have ever seen in my life. I don’t.

The desert at night is clear and dark and amazing. There was crescent moon that looked like a cutout, as it was so yellow in contrast to the blue-black sky. The stars feel very near and there seem to be millions of them.

Hunting and Gathering

I have been making a few notes about interesting things in the grocery stores.

My first all time favorite was the tea, which I thought would be just like the sleepy time tea in the U.S. which I love to have a cup of when I had trouble going to sleep. I used to carry some with me on my trips. I bought a box of the Sleep Nerve Tea and was a bit puzzled when I read the side of the box. “An effective herbal tea to relief nervousness and sleep disorders. It is recommended to be taken three times daily.”

The first night I tried it – I literally fell asleep in front of the television and snored. The next morning I read the ingredients and it not only contains chamomile flowers but VALERIAN Root! It is a natural aid product from Riyadh and I had to chuckle when thinking about all of the supposedly housebound Saudi women who drink three cups of this a day to stay calm.

Under directions for Iced Tea – “Put five bags in hot water and brew for five minutes. Remove the tea bags and add cold water (500 ml). Refrigerate. Enjoy it with your family members!” For all of those mothers who used a dose of Benadryl occasionally when the children were very small – serve this as “sweet tea” at meals and they will never know what happened!!

Do you remember Monosodium Glutamate - MSG? Remember when most of the Chinese restaurants stopped using it, when it was no longer used as a normal ingredient unless loudly noted on the package, when everyone would say they could tell when there was msg in something they ate as their hearts would race and the government spokesman said it was really really bad for us all. I hadn’t even thought about it again – assuming that everyone in the world agreed with the US government that msg was really bad for us - until last year in Singapore, I was learning to make sushi from my favorite Japanese friend and she made reference to a ‘special salt’. She said that she would bring me some the next time we got together as it was inexpensive, very nice and added a lot of flavor. She showed up with a 300-gram plastic bag of monosodium glutamate! Very inexpensive - yes and added a lot of flavor – yes but healthy – not so much.

Some of the large corporations that no longer market products with msg in the states sell soups, etc. here that are loaded with it. Name brands that I felt I could buy without reading the label operate under an entirely different set of rules here – no pork ingredients trumps no msg. No alcohol trumps trans fats. The only vanilla available is an artificial type with no alcohol and the only bacon bits are the plastic baco’s. Those are usually on the bottom shelf in the supermarket turned backwards so the word Baco’s is not facing the consumer who might very well be offended.

The international sections are incredible in every single store. They cater to a wide variety of people and aim to please as many as possible. In Singapore I developed a serious taste for Korean seaweed with Japanese rice and both are easy to find here – even in the snack sizes that were sometimes not on the shelves in Asia. Tex-Mex is huge, the Indian spice section takes up both sides of an entire aisle and the Asian foods are not lumped together – every region is represented – Philippine, Thai, and Malay but there is not nearly the number of Chinese foods that I am used to seeing! The British ‘biscuit’ section is always stocking – Walker’s digestives must have huge fans here as every flavor is here one day and gone the next!

The dairy section is vast. The crèmes that people use every day in France fly off of the shelves. There are at least ten different brands of yogurt and then one moves into the labneh, crème fraiche and even Philadelphia cream cheese occasionally. Kraft cheeses are usually easy to find and the sliced singles that we know are processed but still love in a grilled cheese sandwich occasionally are randomly here – there are probably four other types of sliced singles and of the ones with ingredients in English – there are not too many I would even try. They look scary and I have been told this is because Americans love ‘colorful’ cheese and so it is always dyed yellow and maybe this is true but there is something off putting about white single wrapped slices that I haven’t been able to get past.

Yogurt in the Middle East is extraordinary. The yogurt here is so rich and so creamy – I now understand a bit better why my friend Gowri always made her own yogurt instead of buying it in the grocery store – amazing difference in taste and texture. Kroger’s plain yogurt doesn’t look very appetizing when compared to Almaria’s delicious full cream yogurt but then the Almaria probably ranks right up there with the full flavored msg.

Americans may be the last holdouts for iceberg lettuce. In Singapore and here in Doha, it is referred to as ‘American’ lettuce. In Paris last summer, the salads that used it listed it as American lettuce salads! It is also very expensive here – QAR12.75 looks like a lot when I remember it being $1.00! It is the same price as all of the other lettuce choices.

The food here is amazing and I have picked up a few new recipes that I will be using forever! Eating local is easy – and delicious!

Dinner Dress

The people that know me well know that I am a very conservative, and perhaps, some would say ‘dull’ dresser. Last night I decided I would rather be the ‘dull’ dresser than the ‘middle-aged-woman-from-somewhere-in-the-southwestern-part-of-the-US’ who forgot to look in the mirror on the way to dinner.

There were roughly twenty couples at the small French restaurant where we met our Canadian friends for a dinner hosted by an American organization. We had a set menu that included a choice between sea bass and a chicken dish, berries or soufflé for dessert and included two demitasse-sized soups that were extraordinary. My friend brought a bottle of wine as the ticket had said that corkage was 10QAR. It turns out that was 10QAR per person who had even a sip of wine. Since the president of the hosting organization doesn’t drink and never has, she may not have understood the concept of a corkage fee being charged to open the bottle.

We sat down quickly as we arrived a few minutes late and the invitation said things would start promptly at 6:30 but that is not quite the way it played out. So while we waited for our food and sipped our wine – I watched the people - the entertainment was free.

The best outfit was by far a tight, very short polyester black dress with short cap sleeves that were sheer with an embroidered design. When she was facing away from me, I thought she was fairly young as the dress was short, she had long blonde hair and a nice figure. Then she turned around and I realized that she was way older than I had thought, had spent many years in the sun and a lot of money on her hair. On top of that when I heard a metallic noise as she walked by us – I glanced down just as my husband leaned over and whispered –“bondage boots” - black, shiny, knee-high with metal rings. AND a Christmas bell on a green silk string around her neck chiming in step with the sounds of the boots.

I loved Christmas sweaters when my kids were in school. Tonight may have forever ruined them for me. A woman wore red slacks, a black turtleneck and a Christmas sweater vest. The front was traditional colorful designs – a large stocking, a tree with little bells, but the coup d’ etat was the white fur around the sleeves – long fluffy white Persian cat hair. Add to that a large (really large) red flower in the short ponytail, big bright earrings and oversized glasses and it all made for a caricature of someone in a Tim Burton movie.

The standout for the younger table was interesting and maybe I am hopelessly out of date but a black suit with a peek-a-boo hot pink lace top and pants so tight I was embarrassed for her. Her husband had on a jacket with a tie that matched the lace so I think there was a plan.

On the flip side – a few women were beautifully dressed – one woman from Egypt who reminds me of an always impeccably dressed friend in Memphis – and who will be the new president of this organization after the current one returns to Texas in March. It makes an interesting side note - having a president of Egyptian descent who wears an abaya when she leaves the Hyatt after meetings.

Middle-aged dressing anywhere in the world is difficult but in this part of the world it is even a bigger challenge. I am not sure what the issue is for some of the younger members. I have to think that some of these women are very nice people who accepted the challenge of moving to a galaxy far away when their husbands were offered great jobs. Doha, Qatar had to have been so far outside of their comfort zone that being here and making it an adventure for their family makes them special regardless of what they wear.

Santa in Sand-land

We set out this morning to drive into the city and visit the Gold Souk to pick up a few Christmas gifts. We knew exactly where it was located and anticipated some traffic but it took us over an hour to get there and then we drove around for 35 minutes before my husband was comfortable parking his new car in an available space! Then I could not remember exactly which building a particular store was in so I called to ask for directions. Our conversation was so language challenged that when I finally figured out that he was amazed that I couldn’t remember his shop and was telling me to go in any store and ask where “Magic Diamond” was and they would direct me. That of course was absurd – they chased us down the alley with handfuls of pearls to buy! Once we figured out how to get inside the huge building – it was a piece of cake – we found exactly what we wanted at a really fair price. For the next two hours we spent looking for a shop to buy linen. We had three souk names and a GPS and we still couldn’t find one! During the ride, I made some notes about some of the interesting and hilarious things we saw on a simple drive into town.

Driving down one of the back roads we passed a great street sign – instead of the drawing that tells us to be careful - children crossing street – there was one for women crossing – an outline of women dressed in abayas and hijabs holding hands and walking (I am sure it is difficult to check both ways when veiled).

We saw a Land Cruiser (the national automobile) with colorful prayer beads for every day of the week hanging from the mirror along with a set of – I swear – FUZZY DICE!! We passed the new medical clinic – a building the size of a small hospital in the states – it has a huge sign across the front – FUTURE MEDICAL CENTER and for six months we have waited for it to open – we found out that it has been open for years and since the influx of expats living in this area there now is a canvas sign hanging beneath it that says in red letters – NOW OPEN (apparently we weren’t the only ones waiting).

We followed an Arab ‘Fred Sanford’ for miles. We never could pass, as there was a line of cars behind us that would speed up to our back bumper and then fly around both of our cars. He was driving his dented dark green Gallant Explorer circa 1960s; wearing his haj hat and with a grizzled gray beard driving maybe 20 miles an hour in rush hour traffic. Gripping the steering wheel for dear life he navigated the roundabout on the inside lane and basically edged along – stopping quite often (usually straddling two lanes) before making a right hand turn. The horns and squealing brakes were unbelievable until final everything pretty much came to standstill as everyone watched him carefully cross three lanes of traffic and putter down the middle of the two-lane side road. He never made eye contact with anyone – he never took his eyes off of the road in front of him. It was the only time we have seen anyone stop the buses of workers and the hordes of Land Cruisers in their tracks.

The best had to be when all the traffic was bogged down at a construction merge “give way” area and we couldn’t figure out what the problem was until we got closer and I swear that a small white car (a Sunni- smaller than a KIA) had run into a Land Cruiser and their bumpers were locked together. We think that the Land Cruiser was pulling the smaller car along to get out of the traffic before they stopped but here in Qatar – it is quite possible that the driver of the Land Cruiser was on his phone and never noticed the little car attached to his bumper.

There are school buses that have obviously been shipped here to use in the construction sites. It is a little disconcerting to pass an old yellow school bus with everything written in English full of small dark-faced workers dressed in french blue jumpsuits with colorful scarves tied every which way on their heads. If they are on their way home, they are all obviously exhausted but if they are on their way to work – they all (a quote from my beautiful Italian neighbor) “stare quite strongly”.

I read on a blog here that the only drivers scarier than the local Qataris are the expat women who have to drive everyday. There is probably a lot of truth in that statement – shades of carpool lines. Aggressive inattention is the name of the driving game – no eye contact – cell phone to ear – going as fast as possible between the speed cameras is all in a days driving!

Our Neighborhood

Since there is a lot of construction going on around us, loud pounding outside is not unusual so yesterday when I first heard lots of noise I didn’t ’t realize that it was actually the guys here to plant our neighborhood trees. Our little compound not only has no address yet, there is not one green thing inside the compound that hasn’t been added by the new tenants. Since everyone has become friends and we all talk a lot – there are some improvements in the works. The key phrase here is “improvements” which of course they are or we wouldn’t be making them.

Several people have already moved their washer/dryers into the ground floor bathroom which is large as it originally was supposed to have a toilet and a bidet but ended up with just a toilet, bidet plumbing and the hand held hose that is in every bathroom in the Middle East. The washer/dryer combination is a wonderful American style apartment set as opposed to most units here, which are washer/dryer combinations that steam dry. They are enough to make a sane housewife with no maid crazy. Nothing ever completely dries, everything is wrinkled, they do not hold an entire load and everyone I know here (outside of our little compound) has large collapsible drying racks that always seem to be full of clothes. When we first looked at this little no name villa – that was one of the big attractions after a month in the flat with one of the above-mentioned nightmares.

Apparently moving them into the bathroom is not very difficult although drilling the vent hole through a concrete wall seems rather challenging. One of the families does have it set up where they have to turn off the vent fan when they want to dry a load of clothes and push the hose through the fan so it dangles outside. They may have been worried that drilling a hole in the wall might not actually be an improvement. Ours will have a hole – if it is that easy to drill a hole – I am sure it will be like Singapore where we learned the day we were moving how easy it was to fill those holes that we were ever so hesitant to make I the walls. If not for Kat Fitzpatrick’s artwork, we may never have even bought a drill!

The next step is building shelves to hold the microwave, extra water bottles, cookbooks, etc. in the kitchen where it used to be. The search for wood is on. The carpenter was easy – he has already built several things for our neighbors. I understand that there is a souk near here – four roundabouts away - that sells wood but we need a picture of what we want to build so I have canvassing the area to see if anyone can draw a stick/line drawing to show the carpenter and the wood souk. I have actually resorted to looking through old magazines and perusing the Home Depot and Lowe’s website for ideas.

The occupant of Villa #4 found someone to come and remove the bricks in front of our townhouses in a one meter square, replace the sand with peat moss, true dried organic manure (from the animal souk), sand and plant a tree. These bricks are in offset lines so this will not only involve chipping through the concrete and lifting out the bricks, but cutting the sixteen odd bricks that stick out in half with HAND TOOLS. The entire crew was here yesterday morning at 8 o’clock and almost finished the last hole at 8:30 last night. I think they gave up because they ended up at our end and there were twelve children trying to play in the new sandboxes move and build things with the bricks and drive their trucks around the poor guys kneeling and chipping away at the bricks. They charged 200QAR to dig each hole, replace the sand, and plant our choice of tree – that is $55.00.

The neighbor directly across the road is Iranian and rarely here. I wanted us both to have Frangipani trees as opposed to the wispier tree that looks like a mimosa but isn’t so I had to agree to help with the watering next summer – we will end up with about thirty trees and in five years, this compound will be beautiful – maybe by then it will have an address and a name as “18 Villas” really doesn’t work. One of the wives who is from South Africa thinks our next project should be planting trees around the outside of the compound walls. I am already having “water hose dragging in the summertime” nightmares.

Almost every unit in the compound has flowers in the window (mine are pink petunias and are actually blooming beautifully), a tree or two and most have a few chairs and a table out front. This is a great way to meet and get to know everyone but it leads to lots of cocktail sharing. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was glad my friend Carol didn’t move into this compound!

Something else that is interesting are what different nationalities think looks great on the front door around Christmas time. Some is a little kitschy and unexpected. I am surprised at how many decorated trees have sprung up and I may have to break down and dig out the apartment-sized tree that was shipped here in error. I was afraid shipping a clearly marked Christmas tree would slow our container down in customs but it apparently isn’t an issue as they sell ten-foot trees in Carrefour. Having a child (even a grown one) here and a husband who was really distressed at my Christmas palm tree a few years ago may force me to do a little decorating.

Tuesday Morning Coffee

Today (it being Tuesday) was coffee morning at the Tuesday International Ladies Group and since my daughter arrived on Friday morning – I dragged her along today. The fact that we both have an evil side to our sense of humor made that a dangerous decision. There is always a table of donated books (5QAR - $1.37) and magazines (3QAR $.82) that are sold to raise money. As we poked through the stacks, we both saw “Men Are From Mars and Women are From Venus” at the same time and cracked up – loudly. As she so succinctly put it – who would buy that book and move to the Middle East? This afternoon, we were at the local Virgin bookstore and I actually saw that they sell it here – so maybe someone didn’t bring it – they bought it here, realized they had moved to a place that no one cared if they thought differently from their spouse and so donated it to the ITG so that someone else struggling with a relationship here might for a minute think there was a glimmer of hope. Mars rules in the desert!

We proceeded with our sweets and coffee to the ballroom to see a program, I thought, about Murano glass and a local glass artist. Before we got to meet the artist, we watched a thirty minute video about her life, her family, her husband, her work with glass, her work with wood, her work with three very famous glass blowers who helped turn her jewelry designs into much larger pieces, her fascination with the feminine figure in all of its forms, and the talent that lay buried in her soul that was released by her leap into creativity. My first thought while watching the video was how in the world did this pass the ministry that censors and regulates art objects brought into Qatar? There were paintings of actual bare female figures and since Islamic art doesn’t usually even show faces, I was quite surprised that these were allowed here – and will be shown at her exhibit in the Souk Woqif Art Center. Most are torsos but some are very explicit torsos.

The verbiage in the film was priceless – There was a reference to the figurines being based on the ancient theory that man is the key and woman is …………. the lock. Then after showing a “Betty Boop” statue that seemed to have breasts, the issue of losing a breast was addressed – but the word breast was never used – only the word ‘tit’ - the concept that one can lose one tit and still have one tit and still be beautiful with one tit almost had me on the floor. I don’t think I have ever heard tit used five times in a row in a room of middle-aged women. Apparently it is not a colorful word in Australia and maybe not in the UK but it still had a bit of humor value for the Americans!

When the narrator made the statement, “Well…….. it is even deeper when one is discussing art”; I thought people were going to have to leave the room, the snorting while trying to not laugh was so bad. I hoped the artist was really not there and we were only going to see the video but afterwards, she got up and made a quick joke about the young videographer who helped make the film and talked a little bit about her art and then explained she was branching out AGAIN with her feminine shapes into the world of chocolate – nudes made of semi sweet chocolate – by the end of the presentation I decided that she must have had a huge inheritance.

I also learned today – a million miles from Mississippi and in the middle of my genealogy project that there is actually a periodical published about the United States Civil War – can’t yet tell which side they are on – there were two on the donation table and I had to buy them! I am not sure how often it comes out but it is still current as I bought the November 2008 and the September 2009 issues and am hoping to find some mention of one cousin or another.

Even after all my sunsets on the beach, our balcony in Singapore, various layovers and back porches, I had never heard of a “Sundowner” which is a gin and tonic that celebrates the setting of the sun. I sat with a woman who has lived here for thirty years, written and published a beautiful book about the history of Qatar through the narrative lens of medicinal treatments, and ‘condo-sits’ these days, as she can’t afford the current rents. We discussed how much this city has changed, where to buy black linen (I have found an Afghani tailor who copies stitch by stitch), how her skin has stayed so perfect after all of this time in the desert (hormones and hats) and how nice a Sundowner is at the end of the day.

The weather is perfect here right now – we may have to have a ‘Sundowner’ on our roof this afternoon as the sun sets – although it sets so early here I will have to work under the assumption that it really is five o’clock somewhere in the world!

Thanksgiving in Doha, Qatar

This was our first November in Qatar and we weren’t quite sure how we would be celebrating Thanksgiving. Our schedule wasn’t set in stone until late in the month so we were glad that some Americans we met right after we moved here called to ask whether we would be interested in getting together for the holiday. We of course said yes and offered to bring our usual dishes - giblet gravy, pecan pie, cranberry sauce, a green bean casserole and rolls. I offered to make mashed potatoes for twenty people and she said not to worry that her maid makes wonderful mashed potatoes and would take care of it. So plans were made and the menu was set.

A few days later our new next-door neighbors invited us to their house for a Thanksgiving celebration the night before the American Thanksgiving - warning us ahead of time that everyone spoke Spanish. We again said we would love to attend and would bring giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, and a dessert. She said yes they needed a gravy. She also requested four chairs and bottle of white wine, which for the first time in our lives, we actually had on hand. I again offered to make mashed potatoes and was told not to worry that someone else was bringing potatoes.

Our first mistake was assuming that we would be able to find pie shells and traditional western rolls in this land of incredible bakers (they probably don’t sell them in Paris either), the second was not buying the fried onions that we both remembering laughing at somewhere on a random grocery store shelf and then never able to find them again, third was assuming that gravy means the same thing to a Latin as it does to a southerner, and our fourth was making an early unscheduled stop at our favorite bakery here – The Lebanese Bakery on Salwa Road. We actually left with more for us to eat at home in three days than we had planned to take to both dinners - and the smallest tray of sweets that they sell – since they sell these by the kilo – there is no such thing as a small tray.

The Lebanese Bakery reminds me of the original Gambinos Bakery in New Orleans. You know when you enter that it has been around for a while and the guys that work there seem to take great pride in what they sell. There are always people flying in and out of the parking lot and several times, we have seen young men in chef clothes buying piles of the Arab bread. There are way too many Middle Eastern sweets, different breads – there is always a rack of freshly baked Arabic bread – and a counter full of beautifully decorated cookies – some tied with ribbon in little boxes and many beautifully decorated cakes. We assumed the golden ones were butterscotch but when we asked we were told they were mango. I can’t wait to try one.

Both hostesses called when they defrosted their turkeys and we picked up the giblets. I have never ever seen giblets this large – the necks were almost four inches in diameter and had lots of meat – all of the rest of the giblet parts were the largest I have ever seen. Then we planned our shopping trip knowing that this usually involving at least two stores. The pie shell search was a total failure, the onions on the top of the green bean casserole were going to be a challenge and we were disgustingly elated when we found both kinds of cranberry sauce on an end shelf at Megamarket. On one pass through the mega parking lot – we did see a brand new maroon Mercedes with the sun roof open with a gorgeous three or four year old girl in dark purple spangly cowboy boots standing on the console with her head sticking through the sunroof. Her father in full national dress, sunglasses and cell phone to ear was driving. I kept waiting for her to do the Miss America wave!

Early afternoon my husband delivered the chairs next door and after some (seriously I swear) discussion between he and Jannette (our next-door neighbor and hostess) about how to mark the chairs so we would know which were ours and which were theirs, we all had a good laugh as all of the villas here have exactly the same furniture and who would ever know which chairs were which and more importantly who would care! While they were moving chairs, I asked her again about the mashed potatoes and she looked puzzled and said no it was potato salad that her friend was bringing. Trying to be sensitive to the language differences, I asked what we would be putting the gravy on and she said maybe the rice, maybe the turkey – she wasn’t sure!

We made our bakery run and picked up a tray of a local sweets – luqmat al-qadi – they look like donut holes – fried dough pastry with a dab of cinnamon and honey in the center and sprinkled with ground pistachio. I had these at the tour of the Fanar cultural center with a tiny cup of local coffee and they are beyond addicting. No one at the dinner had ever seen them but the entire tray was empty before we even started clearing the table.

When we showed up with gravy, wine and cranberry sauce – everyone was so nice all in Spanish. I am picking up a little bit and they all wanted to speak a little English so eventually I figured out who all of the beautiful dark eyed children belonged to, who was married to who and how to make Nicholas (the 18 month child who lives next door) laugh out loud with an orange napkin.

One of the guys from Spain asked me if the little things in the gravy were garlic and actually looked squeamish when I told him they were boiled eggs. There was a beautiful young mother from Venezuela who I hope will share her dressing recipe – sausage, almonds – spicy and wonderful who asked me in charming broken English if gravy was something we had on holidays with the turkey bird. I was trying to explain southern dressing, mashed potatoes, peas and gravy with the turkey when her husband first tasted the gravy. “Mag, your southern sauce is delicious!”

The combination of foods was really interesting, everyone was friendly and we met some new people. We do love our neighborhood!

The next morning, another trip through the bakery – we bought a beautifully decorated chocolate cake with shaved pieces of chocolate on the sides with strawberries and a little whipped cream on top – and on top of that were carefully placed animal crackers which we figured were a gift to the Americans who seemed to be shopping there every day!

Green bean casserole without crispy fried onions – wouldn’t be the same so we mixed the mushroom soup and cans of green beans and then used the mandolin to cover the top with thinly sliced purple onions. I thought they would be way to sweet but after cooking for an hour – it was perfect! We had another delicious dinner – way too much food and a little bit of wine and a cup of coffee or two, we came home and couldn’t get off of the couch for the rest of the evening!

National Dress of Qatari Men

Male Qatari’s wear the thobe (called a dishdash in some other Arab countries) that is a full-length white shirtdress with a wide traditional collar, French cuffs, deep side pockets and one chest pocket. There is also an inverted pleat in the back similar to Oxford shirts. It either buttons or zips half way down and is usually worn with sandals although I have seen one elderly gentleman with socks and shoes. Almost always crisp and sparkling white, they are worn with a variety of cufflinks, all large but with many different designs and gemstones. All of the thobes here are exactly the same. There are such distinct differences in the cut of these robes across the Gulf region that an Arab can usually tell what country a man is from by the tailoring details of his robe.

The one issue that I have thought about is the lack of a vent in the back as this makes it hard to take long steps (a lesson I learned the hard way stepping across a shallow muddy ditch in a bridesmaids dress 34 years ago). Understandably, you don’t see too many men running here.

The headwear is the Ghutra (headscarf) topped with a braided black cord with tassels at the end called an Ogaal that hangs down the back after being tied at the crown of the head. I think they are like ties – once they are tied, some people never redo them – they just plop them on top of the ghutra and go. The Ghutras are either red and white checked – not like the pictures that we see in the US with all of the fringe but more like oversized handkerchiefs or they are white – again crisply ironed and meticulously folded. Some of the white ones have designs and some are sheer, others are a thicker fabric. Some are flipped up, some are flipped over – from what we have heard – how a young man arranges his scarf is more of a fashion statement than anything symbolic.

The established Islamic protocol is for men to cover the area between the belly button and the knees called the awrah or ‘defectives’. Speedos would not work. The thobe easily accomplishes this. I haven’t had the nerve yet to Google what they wear underneath them. They may well be similar to kilts.

There are many shops in the souks that make thobes and tourists often seem to be buying them but all of the fabric I saw there was fairly thin lightweight polyester. I think the beautiful tailored ones made of incredible fabrics are purchased in a Qatari version of Brooks Brothers, which we may never see.

Waiting for a friend at the entrance to the local mall, I actually had the opportunity to watch what seemed to be a man in his forties with an older woman watching (wife #1) teach a younger woman (wife #2) how to use the ATM. He handed her the card with what could only be described as a flourish along with a packet that I assumed held the pin number. He walked her through how to insert the card, input the pin and how to withdraw 1000 QAR at a time. If I was eavesdropping correctly – she is allowed to do this when necessary but not more than eight times a month. After she meticulously counted her money and put the card, paper and money into a small purse (wife #1 had a large designer bag), the three of them headed off for another day of shopping.

Before moving here, I had seen many pictures of men in this attire but what is not conveyed in photographs is the serious masculinity and virility projected by Arab men dressed in their national dress. They exude a strong sense of pride and confidence that is probably connected somehow to the idea that men are superior, etc but whatever the reason – it is clear they are very aware of who wields the power.

My husband did have a chance to talk to a young man about wearing the thobe after seeing him dressed one day in jeans and another in the national dress. He explained how comfortable and easy it is to wear the thobe. My spouse also commented on the difference in his appearance – jeans and t-shirt – casual and just like everyone else. Thobe – presented as taller, more serious, strong and confident

Trip to the Souks

I am still adjusting to the idea that Sunday is actually Monday as far as the workweek goes. Sunday morning is the first day of school each week and the first day back on the job for the construction workers so it is full of energy from the first step outside.

We decided to go to Souk (market) Waqif to look for a wrought iron bracket to hold our birdfeeder. This sounds so simple. Souk Waqif is a low concrete open air complex with small crowded hallways. It has rows of spice souks, rows of hardware souks, rows of fabric souks, rows of thobe (national dress for men) souks with a few ‘antique’ souks thrown in the mix. It took us forty five minutes to get downtown and into the parking lot which left us exactly thirty five minutes to buy birdseed, find a bracket and check out the falcon souk before the entire area closed for prayers and rest.

Walking inside always makes me smile as the smell is magic. There are barrels and sacks of dried spices, teas and coffee, beans and nuts. Wizened old porters will shop with you and they use wheelbarrows! The wheelbarrows are padded with burlap and these guys follow patiently behind you loading whatever you buy into them. You can buy anything in the souks! Fifty pounds of rice, lentils by the kilos, fabulous sari fabric by the meter and aluminum pots of every size – the brianni pots are large enough to fry a turkey. Someone told me yesterday that whatever I was looking for is always available here in Doha – the issue is where to find it. I have a feeling I will be spending some time learning my way around the souks finding something new each trip!

We had no problem finding the little shop that we like for the birdseed although I did have to seriously avert my eyes when we passed the pet stores. There are not too many regulations here regarding the care of animals for sale. There is the same attachment to the idea of the “in” pet as there was in Singapore. If it is cool – one must have one. Remember when everyone had to have a Dalmatian after the movie came out. There are animals in cages during the summer with no water, there are birds that have the oddest faces – as soon as I figure out how to post pictures, I will because these are really odd – and the latest controversy is the dyeing of rabbits and cats.

We had to ask directions a few times to the falcon souk and it turned out to be smaller than I had thought but way cooler. There were about twelve hooded birds tethered to stands spaced about a meter apart. There was a man in the back making the colorful leather hoods by hand – small works of art. We tried to ask questions but there wasn’t much English spoken. At the shop next door, there was a local man checking out the larger falcons – he took the hoods off of one or two and seemed very vocal in Arabic about how dry the eyes of the birds were. He actually picked up what looked like a small watering can and squirted water in their faces, which they seemed to enjoy. On the way back to find somewhere to have lunch, we looked in the window of the first shop and there was a young man holding a falcon on his arm. He saw us looking and said to come in and take a look, which we did. Up close the birds are strong with fierce eyes. There were stuffed animals all over the lace that have been killed by various champion falcons. There was even a picture of an ibis or crane that was killed by a falcon a sixth of his size. The price of these birds ranges from 4,000 to 100,000 QAR. From what we understand, the championship birds can be up to 1,000,000.00 QAR. I have a feeling that the souks selling falcons are like the pet stores selling hunting dogs in the states, that the important sales take place elsewhere.

We walked around looking at the various restaurants and selected a Moroccan one with bright yellow chairs with blue piping around blue and yellow mosaic tile tabletops with a brass plate in the center for the shisha pipe. The menu actually had Tanjia with camel – fresh local baby camel cooked in a traditional pot with Special Moroccan Spices – we passed on this and instead had the Harrira classic Soup – Moroccan chickpeas, tomato and lentils and lemon! Excellent! We also had Zaalouk – mashed eggplant with Moroccan Spices, which was also incredible. Mike had the mixed meat kofka with saffron rice and vegetables. Afterwards I had Moroccan coffee la-te that – no surprise - is half milk and half coffee that arrived in a juice glass that was too hot to pick up. It definitely slows things down. We had to take the time to sit and savor the moment!

On the way home we stopped at a roundabout with a newly installed signal light. It was flashing yellow and the front three vehicles were stopped– the moment it turned red – all three launched into the intersection! I did have to laugh out loud. Every time we are out I see drivers do things I can’t believe I’m seeing.

Today the news in brief said the Emir H H Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani (leader of Qatar) will join the faithful to perform the Istiska (rain seeking prayer). The Istiska prayer follows the Sunnah – sayings and deeds of the Prophet Mohammed who performed these prayers whenever the seasonal rainfall was delayed. No rain as of yet but the clouds were gathering as we drove home – the first gray clouds I’ve seen in the desert!

It's All in The Name

Friday is the Islamic Sabbath so there is a lot less traffic and the city feels like a Sunday afternoon – a little slower with people getting ready for the workweek. The Shorook (Sunrise) call to prayer was promptly at 5:54 this morning just as the sun was rising. From what I had heard before we moved here, I was expecting a tinny recorded call to prayer but the first time I heard it here – I realized that these are live beautiful baritone voices and they resonate over the sand. Since there are as many mosques here as there are churches in Memphis, the call to prayer comes from every direction. We have a small patio with a ten-foot concrete wall around it and there is a mosque within five hundred yards. Sitting outside and listening to the Maghrib (Sunset) call to prayer just as dusk is settling in and the temperature is dropping – is amazingly serene.

Today the plan was to go to the first Annual Holiday Bazaar hosted by the Emprendedoras (Entrepreneurs) Doha. There was a great photo in the morning paper with lots of hats. I have been seriously looking for a hat that doesn’t elicit a “Digger O’Dell” comment every time I wear it and two of my new neighbors had a table selling Christmas ornaments and clothing from Vietnam. The paper said the bazaar was at Alfarden Gardens Compound 1. We have lived here five months and I have heard many people talk about Alfarden Gardens so that should easy, right? I got out my Marhaba, which is Qatar’s Premier Information Guide, looking for directions – not to be found. I googled Alfarden Garden Compound 1 – nothing helpful. I called an acquaintance that has been here for four years and she said there were four Alfarden Garden Compounds – 1,2,3 and 4. They are all over Doha - #4 is right near us and #2 is near the airport. I made the comment that they should have some new names and she laughed – “These guys here want their names everywhere – they want you to know these are their compounds – we will probably end up with Alfarden Gardens Compound #5 and #6 right down the street.”

I finally had to call my friend who had the booth and ask for directions! I bought a great hat and found out that one of my neighbors has been buying clothes from Vietnam for years and even sold to a large department store in Singapore – the price tag was still on one of the shirts! She said it is so simple, Meg, I found a provider, I design the clothes and they ship them to me – so simple right! The clothes are beautiful colorful slippery silk things.

On the drive to find the compound, we passed a building that seems similar to a men’s club – a place for men to meet and have coffee, smoke shisha and talk. Emerging from the front door was a handsome young Qatari in national dress with the red and white checked headdress. He was attempting to put on his sunglasses with his right hand and on his left arm was perched a hooded falcon. Beautiful bird and much larger than I had thought they would be. He looked as if he was planning to hop in his Land Cruiser and take off with the falcon perched beside him. Falconry is a huge sport here – enormous sums of money are spent both for the birds and their training. They are even allowed in economy class on Qatar Airways.

When it was all said and done, it took hours to find the place, thirty minutes to shop and twenty minutes after we got home to eat the entire jar of eggplant antipasti that we bought. Delicious! The hat is great but the falcon was the coolest.

Every afternoon lately, we have seen flocks of duck and geese flying overhead. In formation, no less and we can’t figure out if they are lost or migrating. I have to think they are ducks as they are very quiet.

The afternoon’s entertainment has been watching the workmen dig through the brick sidewalk into the sand – digging a hole deep enough to plant a tree in front of villa #5. . Our compound has no greenery so we are going to bring in our own. ‘First Tree Grows in 18 Villas!’ Eventually we will all have a tree with a two-meter patch of green (hopefully green). My green thumb will be put to the test – I will be sick if ours is the first to die!

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Front page of the newspaper had great news. “Men too can get driving licence for automatic cars”. The Department of Traffic and Patrol has relaxed driving rules, allowing men and women alike to seek a special licence to drive automatic cars.

Upon reading the article, I now understand why my next-door neighbor has AUTOMATIC stamped on her Qatari license. According to the article, she is not allowed to drive a car with a manual transmission at all.

Apparently the same people that do the testing for the licensing bureau own the driving school as further along it is specified that if one is in the middle of driving lessons in a manual car, one is not allowed to switch to an automatic car – even if one already knows how to drive an automatic car! I would imagine some of these people caught in the middle of a driving course that involves both “theory classes along with the practical classes” taught by someone whose English is not their first language are probably ready to slit their wrists after seeing this! I can say this from experience (my bookkeeping class with the Chinese instructor speaking English just for me) as it is exhausting to listen to someone who is trying to teach in their second language as I am sure it is exhausting for the person doing the instructing!

Women applying for a driving license go through an arduous process to get that little piece of plastic – at least those of us who must take the testing route do. An appointment must be made and women are only allowed in the application center during the “Ladies Only” hours, which seem to be between 5 and 6:30 AM. So an appointment is made at 5:30 in the morning and upon arrival at 5 AM just to be on the safe side – the line is out of the door! Forms are completed, letters from husband’s employer, copies of his passport, and copies of his resident visa are attached but at least in this country, no permission letter is required.

Then comes the ‘SIGNS’ test – some are internationally recognized and some are veeery interesting. There is a great picture of a bugle with a red line through it – of course that means – No Honking, there is a sign with a red car and a black car driving side by side – of course that means No overtaking (passing), the sign that I thought was a fire hydrant is actually a sign indicating that there is a side road ahead to the right. There is one sign that is a triangle with a large exclamation point – Caution and the Beware of animals of course has a Camel. The triangle with the X in the middle means intersection ahead opposed to a triangle with a circle, which means watch out – roundabout ahead. Highways are high-speed carriageways, U turns are referred to as backwards turns and as the terminology in the signs test must be accurate, the western reference to U turns has failed a few people.

Occasionally at this point in the process– the administrator comes out of her office and calls out, “Go home and come back tomorrow – no more room for ladies today. Come back tomorrow” which drives the expats who have been waiting for two hours absolutely insane! There is no discussing it and there is no recourse.

Upon arrival the next morning and instructed to get on the waiting unairconditioned bus, which after being fully loaded with expats, women in black and maids is driven 200 meters to the area where the actual driving test is given. From what I understand, the test consists of driving up a ramp, making sure to stop at the STOP line which is a faded barely visible white line, proceeding to back down the ramp, parking and then driving around a roundabout with very little traffic. No similarity whatsoever to actually driving in Doha. People that don’t pass are stopped in the middle of the parking lot – told “Get out of the car! You have failed!” – Very little explanation as the language barrier is substantial.

Obtaining a drivers license here is a challenge but also an adventure and must be looked at as a process not an errand. I have to remind myself that prior to moving to Singapore, I had to get a new license in a new state and it took four hours to complete the process. Thinking back to the people that were waiting with me, it might not be such a bad idea to have “Ladies Only Hours” in the rural south.

Qatari women are very modest as in most countries in this part of the world. The national dress for women here is covered in modest black with only the eyes visible. The total outfit is beautifully feminine but seems rather difficult to maneuver in.

After seeing these women in the shopping center, it was a surprise the first time we passed one driving along in one of the ever-popular Land Cruisers. She was not only completely covered; she had on an oversized pair of sunglasses! The overall effect is pretty intimidating especially when you stop wondering how she sees what traffic is around her and realize that she doesn’t. She looks straight ahead and plows on. The flip side of this is that these are the more independent women.

With men, women or hired drivers sometimes there are small children climbing around in the car - back and forth over the seats – standing in the front seat – waving to people out of the back window. It is a shock to see children loose in a car – we take it for granted that doesn’t happen any more. When they wave at us with big smiles, it is all I can do not to point at my seatbelt and say “Put it on!”

Drivers Education here takes place in white sedans (similar to the sedan type Toyotas in the eighties) with the letter “L” on the back of the car in red duct tape. We assume this stands for Learner. There is sometimes a red strip running down the side of the car but the “L” is usually pretty easy to spot. The same “L” is on the backs of large lorries (trucks) that sometimes have four people squished into the front seat – all helping the guy behind the steering wheel maneuver through the roundabouts. We see these “L” s frequently as we live on the outskirts of the city and this is where they practice.

Traditionally a female Qatari would only be allowed to have a female instructor for the driving course, but surprisingly we have seen some with male teachers. I still haven’t found out whether the instructor/passenger side has a steering wheel or brake pedals but if I fail my driving test, I will find out the hard way.

The best was the day that we saw an “L” care with both the instructor and the student completely covered with large sunglasses was a shock. I wanted to follow them and watch since the instructor was waving her hands vehemently – maybe suggesting that the student look before pulling out into the roundabout - but my driver refused.

The western female drivers are interesting too! There is no handbook here as to lane usage and expats from some countries are allowed to just exchange their drivers license for a Qatari one with no requirement to learn the rules. Currently, most women arriving from my home country are required to take both a ‘sign’ and an actual driving test (exception being wives of certain large companies’ executives) and I am not sure which is better. Rumor has it that an influential Qatari was denied a license somewhere in my country and was quite angry.

But no worries - I will be out on the road as soon as (a) the newness wears off of my husband’s new car and (b) I get my new glasses (maybe I will be able to find ones with wraparound lenses so I can see in all directions). In the meantime, I am depending on the kindness of friends and interesting taxi drivers.

Driving in Qatar is a favorite topic of conversation always! The increase in traffic when the temperature dropped, the expats returned from holiday and Ramadan was over was scary. I heard at coffee one morning that I would be really surprised as how the traffic escalated as soon as school started! Surprise is not the word – total astonishment is a better term.

When expats land in Doha and begin car shopping – bigger is better, bigger is safer and bigger is harder to park. The SUV sales that are supposedly winding down in the states show no signs of slowing here. Gas is cheap and it is always better to be looking down at other drivers when one is honking in the roundabouts than looking at huge bald truck tires six inches to the right.

There are three lanes in most roundabouts. Right hand turns (my personal favorite in the US) are made from the inside lane. Yes, you read that correctly – the driver on the inside lane is allowed to put on his right turn signal – or not – and make right hand turns across two lanes of traffic. The center lane driver is planning to pass a turn or two before he leaves the roundabout or he can click an indicator and go right whenever he suddenly realizes that is where he should be going. The center lane is not the place to be if you are not completely sure which turn you would like to make, as you need six sets of eyes to keep up with all of the sudden decisions being made around you. The right hand lane is the easiest and feels the most comfortable until you realize that you are only supposed to turn right at the very next turn from this lane so your destination options are limited.

U-turns are called backwards turns and are very common. It helps to be in the left hand turning lane and to have a car with a very tight turning radius. But that doesn’t seem to be necessary – any lane will do.

Left hand turns are interesting too! Salwa Road has two left turn lanes at one intersection and at any given time – three cars turn left – two from the properly marked turn lanes and one from the lane with the obvious arrow pointing straight. The far right lane has an exit from a shopping center just short of the intersection so drivers (always in very large autos) will pull slowly out and indicate with a flippant wave that they are going to cross over and turn left. They never make eye contact. They just go steadily on their way amid much cussing and hand waving by the other drivers. They really don’t care – they just want to turn left. So they do.

Right hand turns are not as simple as in most places. If an SUV is too far back and doesn’t want to wait – the sidewalk is always an option. Or driving up and over the sidewalk, forcing ones way into traffic on the frontage road to cut in queue and be the first to turn at the right corner. They just want to be first. Even if there is nowhere to go!

Drivers here come from all over the world and I think some are hired as drivers without the driver’s education classes required elsewhere. Some of the young men look as frightened as I am and clutch their steering wheels as they drive small pickups directly into the line of fire. Interestingly, there are thousands of the same Nissan pick up trucks with the same flame design on the sides and they all have Indian drivers that are either fearless or nuts. “Nison” (as in Nixon) is the correct pronunciation of ‘Nissan’ here. We thought there was a new make of car for a few days when a friend was talking about buying one.

People that drive here seem a little more relaxed about the driving than those of us who learned to drive somewhere that actually had traffic laws. The symbol for patience - hand extended palm up with fingers gathered is used quite often – frequently by the person edging out in front of you with so many dents in his car that you realize immediately that he doesn’t care if you run into him.

The local Qatari drivers in national dress always seem to be in a hurry but the westerners always seem the most stressed. Speed is so important in this tiny country – high-end sports cars speed along until nearing speed camera – slow for a minute so there is no flash and then fly off towards the desert.

Porsches, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Ferraris all have dealerships here and do quite the business. The dilemma for these beautiful cars is the speed humps – not a typo, speed bumps merely mean slow down for the real thing in a few meters – a hump is huge. Low slung cars almost have to stop to crawl over these things and many drivers simply drive up on the sidewalks to avoid them.

After a few years of running errands here in the land of the beige, I will reach a level of patience never expected. My time management skills will be totally gone as there is no sense whatsoever as to how long it will take to do anything. I will have given up all attempts at list making and will have learned to spend the afternoons reading!

First Call

Calling From Qatar is my way of avoiding long random emails to some people and no emails to others! There are so many people that I do not want to lose touch with and many people that I want to share some of the interesting things about living here. This seems like the simplest way to do it.

“Here” is Doha, Qatar, a small but incredibly energetic county in the Middle East. It is a peninsula, which extends into the Arabian Gulf directly across from Iran. It is one of the top two wealthiest countries in the world. Yes – Oil & Gas but mostly natural gas. The majority of residents are expats as the local Qataris only make up about 36% of the population. People are brought in to do every type of work. From designing and building new cities to driving construction workers to and from the various projects there are enough people brought in to make it all happen. There are faces from every country in the world here.

We are living in a villa compound with seventeen other families – no Americans. Quick comradery develops when you are all living in a compound with no known address (we carry Google maps) in the middle of Area #57. Italian, Greek, Spanish, Portuguese and even proper British English can all be heard when we are sitting out front in the late afternoon. I have begun taking Italian and Spanish lessons on Tuesday mornings. It took me a while to realize that I am the only one who has two sets of homework!

We love the food! Seasonal seems to really matter here and when something is fresh and on hand – you need to buy it because once it is all gone – it is gone until next year. The cherries that are here in June are as good if not better than the Rainier cherries in the states. They are in huge bins in the grocery and it feels a little like the old Filene sales as maids, women completely covered in black and expats all fight for a space close enough to pick out the ripest ones. I erroneously assumed that we could try some and go back later if we loved them but NOT – they were all gone in a day. When I asked if there would be more I was told to have patience that they would be back next summer as always. We have tried so many dishes but every time I look at a menu – I find something new!

The one drawback I have found is the driving. These people are insane on the roads. White lines mean nothing! Some roundabouts have new traffic signals that people don’t even notice. Flashing lights and honking horns are the norm and speed is king. I have decided that my problem is when my husband is driving – I can see the drivers behind us in the side mirror. Land Cruisers driven by men with flying headdresses appear from nowhere six inches from our rear bumper and startle me every time. I don’t scream out loud like I did on the first drive from the airport in June so it must be getting better! The paper reported yesterday that 10,000 new vehicles are added to the roads every month so watch out!!