a foreigner in the middle east

You always have to laugh to stay sane in Qatar!

I’ve always had a sense of humour, not a dark sense of humour or a clever sense of humour but a real Blackadder, Monty Python, Spike Milligan sense of humour. I love a good roar when you see something unexpectedly funny in a supermarket or read something so odd it’s funny in the local paper. Welcome to one of the many joys of Doha that makes my day brighter and fuels my laughter, the joy of cultural confusions and language translations gone wrong and of simply tastes that differ from continent to continent. Doha is a melting pot of potential hilarity, imagine the many languages, the nationalities, the food and shopping differences in all the nationalities and the innocent attempt Doha makes to give everything to everyone. Over the last years I have captured moments that made me smile and would love to share them below. Interestingly despite the humour it often highlights the subtle experience of living here that one wouldn’t be able to describe to someone who hasn’t ever visited.

What can I say it’s wrong of course, wild animals should be allowed to run free in the wild and certainly not be hanging out the side of the passenger window of a FJ Cruiser listening to Bob Marley?

KFC, Burger King, McDonalds, they all deliver to your door in Doha, yes for the price of a burger and chips I’m serious, the man on a moped will jump into the roar of Doha traffic and spend all 13p of that litre of Petrol in bringing you a burger and chips! Well I guess if they do that they can bring you anything? Don’t think this will ever catch on sharing a giant meat burger in the UK.

Doha’s driving is crazy, some people have cars too big to care, others have a driving license but barely any common sense and then the biggest danger is simply not looking out for all the other crazy drivers! Hilarious sens of logic!

Sadly in Doha it’s common to appear at the traffic station and in this case a lovely gold landcruiser had shot straight into the back of me. Slight graze to the bumper and not much else and my son was clearly happy enough to assess the walkie talkie and sit on the cops desk! Cannot see PC Plod in Greenwich police station approving of this.

Appeal, hmm there are beautiful men and beautiful women in Doha for sure, but there are also many strange things that enhance beauty and appeal in Doha and here is my favourite one a scent for men that simply does what it says on the tin!

Oh juxtaposition at it’s best, a rich and affluent nation still respectful of it’s heritage all summed up as an ATM machine clad in wood in the old souk!

Again in the souk a pedestrainised area of Doha and no cops on bicycles but a T3, perfect for translating that landcruiser into cool on the street and still maintain a Robocop image!

Spelling oh how I love Doha for it’s spelling, my sister did ask if there was a giant Parmesan to go with it!

Again juxtaposition at it’s best, Starbucks, not sure if you’ll find this in a location search on Starbucks US Corporate site, but hey when you’re out in the desert a guys got to have his coffee!

Health & Safety in Doha is not ignored it’s just often misunderstood. The wonderful innocent believe by this guy that his rear window could be held in place by masking tape and not fall out is what encourages those double takes in Doha that really make you smile!

So there you have it an insight into some of the amazing sights in Doha that amuse, confuse and terrify me in one fell swoop.
On a serious note though humour is key in Qatar, you have to appreciate people’s lack of malice here, no one is trying to delibertly cause danger, they simply have the confidence that they are free from harm and that fate will not intervene. I watch a guy running across of 4 lane motorway with a 2m sheet of glass the other day and he was trying to save time, probably didn’t have a car to carry the glass in properly and thought oh heck 4 landcruisers hurtling to me at 100kph are always going to slow down?

Fasting and familiarity

Supermarkets, I loathe them, I hate how they sell food by brand, how the food gets wasted, how we are controlled by price and pretty labels. It could also have something to do with the fact I spent 2 years with a supermarket as my client in London and having to live and breath aisles after aisles it certainly drove me mad enough to vouch I would never set foot in a supermarket again. So on my departure of London I said a definitive goodbye to Ocado and Abel & Cole Farmers delivery service and a slap in the face hello to supermarkets of the 1970’s.

The day we arrived in Doha, my son turned 6 months exactly and this meant commencing the dreaded “Weaning” (According to Wikipedia: Weaning is the process of gradually introducing a mammal infant, to what will be its adult diet and withdrawing the supply of its milk). Easier said than done, in a Middle Eastern country in the month of Ramadan while living in a hotel room.

It is the Islamic month of fasting, in which participating Muslims refrain from eating, drinking and sexual relations from  dawn until sunset. The fasting is seen as a way of cleansing the soul and refocusing oneself on the importance of patience, humility and spirituality. In my opinion I find it the most effort any religion makes that involves real action over words that has affected me both in London and here in Doha. I find it admiral and believe that everyone could do with a considerable length of fasting in their lives. The Austrians (of which I am half) use fasting as a medicinal tool at The Mayr Clinic and they say the body can always benefit highly in cleansing its indigestional system in this way. In fact bowel cleansing is said to take three to four weeks so maybe there is more fact behind the fasting month. It is also misunderstood by some that children, pregnant and the ill are expected to take part but this is never the case and I was informed by a dear Muslim friend that true Muslims all stick by this and you make it up when possible.

So a six month old son, I had to fast off milk onto solids or mush, as it really should be called! With no supermarket open during Ramadan, I was pointed to the Giant Store the only supermarket open in the day and as we arrived, ashamedly I was shocked, in fact expecting this was the standard of supermarkets, I turned to my husband and explained loudly “Not to worry, I can do this darling and will figure out the labels even if they are not in English”.

Lo and behold a few weeks later the doors opened during the day once more at Carrefour and I can honestly say that nothing invigorated my excitement in supermarkets quite like this French hypermarket. Oh the relief that the familiarity of brands and aisles existed in Doha. To top off the excitement even further, my first and only familiar sight appeared in front of me on a drive that last day of Ramadan, the worlds largest shopping trolley positioned outside the Royal Plaza mall. I knew this shopping trolley from the double page spread it occupied in the 1989 copy of the Guinness Book of Records, the same book whose facts I read over and over again, determined yet still so young to be the font of all knowledge at all future dinner parties. So what can I say the supermarkets are dated in Doha, the plastic bags overused by the bag packers at the end of each till. After so much progress I feel I have gone backwards 40 years and so I continue to loath supermarkets once more and as for Doha supermarkets watch this space for more reasons why.

Catching up with two years of postings

It started with twitter, then I was chicken as I thought god what if people read me bearing my inner thoughts in a moment of rashness, then it was my facebook photo album called “only in Qatar” where hundreds of my friends commented at the hilarity of moments in Doha. Lastly comes my blog, despite anxiety over my freedom of speech here, I grow more confident in telling it how it is whilst still living in this country. If people disagree, then comment and tell me why I’m wrong. My comments are merely observations through my eyes and knowledge of my life in Doha, taking into account my responsibilities as a mother and wife and my needs in this city. I was an expat child in Kuwait and know I become a British expat mum in Qatar and I love the Middle East with all my heart for its passion, unfounded belief in its own history and for trying……..yes having a go, even if they get it wrong, believing they can achieve greatness.

This blog is not about politics, I’m bored with politics, its all propaganda anyway and what the media want us to believe, my blog is about social, environmental and community needs. I will not tell stories, but I may mention rumours, I won’t tell lies but I will mention facts as best as I know and I won’t slander individuals but I will tell it how it is. Enjoy my insight into life in the Middle east and see it for much more that the media portrays and much more than just a man in a compound in Pakistan who is no more.

Nearly two years and counting

It will be two years in Sept that we’ve been here and I remember that moment, the air hostess of Qatar Airways snapped shut her buckle and I looked into the night scape of Doha for the first time as we came to land on this Peninsula of the Middle East. I always find the term East and West in relation to our world odd and I know that the British Empire did most of the work in charting our seas but to imply this planet, a sphere has a centre saddens me. I just feel that everyone feels they live at the centre of the world and no one is too far away from that!

Doha, the main hub of Qatar, the home of Aljazeera, 80% expats and whose capital’s name translates to ‘Sticky tree”. Until 6 years ago only Qatar’s nationals were allowed to drive a 4×4 and to this day they are the only ones allowed to own land, whilst they sit back and watch expats arrive from most nations and take the jobs that should be rightfully theirs.

But we cannot forget the largest demographic of expats, the Indians an estimated 400,000 in Doha who earn an annual salary far less than anyone employed in Doha. There are lemons (Lebanese), kiwis, pomes and all other manner of fruits of our planet here but none so prominent as the Indians. They start work before us and finish after us, work at heights and in heat that we only observe from our air-conditioned Indian built towers. They live with no family, in compounds away from the city and are restricted from venturing out due to lack of transport and signs outside every mall insisting its “Family Day “only. Please remember these men before we go to sleep at night and learn to value our neighbours because we don’t know them, rather than judge them because we think we do.