Impressions of Doha and Dubai
My journey to Doha began with long plane rides. Here is the journal I kept while traveling and in the first few days of being in Qatar.
My Journey to Doha
Day I
After all the weeks of preparation, the lists and lists of things to gather, purchase or suspend, I left for the air port at 5:30 PM with John. He commented about the strange world we are living in in which his brother felt compelled to travel halfway around the world to work. He said he hoped Stephen was finding the work meaningful. I said I did too and that was one reason I was eager to visit him so I could see for myself the conditions he was living in and the state of mind Stephen is in when he gets home from work. I have been saying to everyone that if I feel like it is too much of a grind, I will encourage Stephen to find an end date and come home.
Getting through security was relatively quick. I made one mistake when I got on the wrong tram which took me to the wrong gates. I panicked a bit, got back on the tram and then got off on the side as if I were ready to exit the airport. I quickly realized that I would have to go through security again, hopped back on the tram just in time too as departing passengers were boarding on the the other side, said I was confused and needed the tram to gate 84 and a man and a woman confirmed that I needed the other tram. So I hopped off the side where people were boarding and was able to quickly find the right tram. My timing was perfect; otherwise I would have been stuck going through security again. After this relatively minor mishap, I reminded myself of how important it is to watch what I am doing and read all signs. It was a good way to start so to avoid a major mistake somewhere else on my journey.
So, by seven I was waiting at gate 84 for my 9:10 flight. I got out my book and began to read. I saw no one else in any air port for the rest of the journey who was actually reading a book made up of pages of paper. I felt a little silly too since I was also carrying the new iPad I had purchased for Stephen on Wednesday, loaded with some books that he wants to read. I could have loaded books for me too, but I had already purchased the book I wanted to read next since it is the book club’s choice of The Round House by Louise Erdrich. I read for the next few hours intermittently. Checked my messages and email on my phone. Wrote back to Peggy who applauded my attempt to communicate the family’s concern for Kate’s short term memory loss. Then responded to a text from Katherine hoping I had remembered to remove my passport from the copier. She had called at the last minute to say good bye and suggested I make copies of my passport and put one in my suitcase and also leave one at home. I had remembered reading that the last time I traveled abroad and knew it was a god idea, so I made copies, but I also remembered to put the passport back in my purse. Before leaving the house I had talked to Katherine on the phone, and told her if I go down in a burning plane that I love her so, and that the compensation would be that she and Gabe would have the money to buy a house and that if that were to happen, know that I would be so happy for them to have the money and to enjoy getting the house with all my blessings from above. We got a little teary, both of us, and Katherine said, OH, Mom, don’t talk that way, but I said when I am traveling like this, I like to think of all the worst things that could happen because then I think they are less likely to happen, and that I would see her in April and I would be there in June to help her and to hold that little baby in my arms.
I boarded the plane on time and settled in to my middle seat. Fortunately the seat beside me was vacant, and there was a man on either end of this mid-section. When the flight attendants started to serve drinks, I felt a drop of liquid hit me on my breast plate below the neck but above my blouse. I wiped it off and at first thought it was some sort of spray from the drinks being opened. But then it happened again and the substance was oily. I looked above me and realized there was some kind of oily substance dripping down from above. I got the attendant’s attention, she asked to feel the substance and went to get her supervisor. The drip occurred again, so the supervisor got a bit agitated to get to the source as soon as possible. She asked people around me if anyone had anything in their bags that might be leaking. That’s what I thought it might be. I thought through what I had in my bag that was stored above and remembered that I had nothing liquid in my bag at all. All the other passengers confirmed that they had nothing liquid in their bags either. I said it had not happened again and it seemed the problem was over. Then five or ten minutes later , there were more drips and I told the attendant. Then the two flight attendants decided that it was some kind of oil used to maintain the hinges on the luggage storing compartments. They assured me that the plane was safe, they put a large paper napkin wedged in the opening where the drips could be seen. The supervisor suggested that I move to the seat next to me and gave me the business class bag of amenities. I was content, and I think she was very relieved that I was the kind of passenger who didn’t make a bigger issue out of the problem than I did. I was happy that the drops had not fallen on my clothes, one had dropped on my nose, but nothing dropped anywhere to leave a stain.
I had started watching Life of Pi, so I moved to the seat beside me and continued watching the movie, which I enjoyed very much. The rest of the flight was more comfortable because of the bag of amenities - ear plugs, sleep mask, and extra sox. I put all of these on after the movie ended and slept pretty well - stretched out between the two middle seats.
Day Two
We arrived in Frankfurt a little late due to our gate being busy and having to sit on the runway a bit longer. My connecting flight was an hour later than my arrival time, so I hurriedly moved to the right gate and got there in time. A young woman in the bathroom seemed a bit distressed and asked me if I could help her, once she determined what language I spoke. But all she wanted was for me to use a pair of tweezers to help her pull a snagged thread in her sweater to the inside so it didn’t show. It was a snag on the inside of the sleeve and one that was not that noticeable, but clearly it was causing her great distress. It took a few minutes to get the tweezer points gently through the threads of the sweater and to grab hold of the snagged thread and gently pull it through to the other side, but I was successful and the young woman was so appreciative.
I went out to the waiting area and it was interesting to be in a place where most of the people were speaking German. I have never traveled to Germany before, so hearing people speak German all around me was a new experience. As an American, most of my experience with the German language is in movies about World War II, so all I could think of as I listened was stories about Nazis. I know this is why the German government has sponsored teachers like Glenn Anderson and Kris Rengel to travel to Germany funded by the Goethe Institute so that Americans would know more about the German people and think of other achievements rather than just the dark period of Nazi oppression. There were a couple of young Americans seated nearby and I listened to them for awhile to see if I could determine why they were traveling to Doha. The mix of passengers to either Doha or Bahrain was pretty average looking. Some people from every group and nationality it seemed. I know there are at least four American Universities that have campuses in Doha, so I thought the young men might be students, but they seemed to be soccer players. That’s mostly what they spoke about... or so it seemed. There was some talk about points earned, but I couldn’t tell if they were speaking about points earned for a class or in a game. I moved away from them to get closer to the gate so I could be sure to hear the announcement for when to board.
For this leg of the journey, I had a window seat and I was very pleased since this part of the journey would be during the day and I would be able to see the land below. I love looking out the window when I fly and I am always amazed that most people have the window shade drawn down so they can’t see out at all. I know in the early morning from the east the sun can be very bright.
I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly once seated because I can’t remember the take off at all, and when I woke, my window shade was drawn completely down. When I awoke and started to raise the shade, I realized that the sun coming from the east was very intense, so I raised the shade just slightly. Below the world was covered in a very thick layer of clouds, so I couldn’t see the land below anyway. Still, I enjoy looking at the cloud formations and try to imagine metaphors and similes to describe what I see. The clouds were a bright white, like drifting snow for many miles. Then they started to break up and were like a cluster of islands in a misty sea. Finally they broke up enough for me to see the rugged mountains below. I put the “travel show” map on the screen in the seat, and discovered that we were flying.... well it was hard for me to tell which country since I am not as familiar as I would like to be about where certain cities are located. We were still over Europe, though, and I think southern Germany when I saw mountains that looked as rugged and as high as the Alps, which I have flown over a few times.
The snow covered peaks were majestic in the sun. I thought of Gabe and his love of skiing and looked for signs of a ski area, but these mountains seemed so desolate and deserted. I could not see any signs of human activity, but perhaps that is only because I was so high above. The clouds covered everything for awhile and then I could see another mountain range, but this time the mountains were lower in elevation and much rounder in shape. Again I tried to think of a metaphor or simile that would suggest what they looked like. The mountains were dusted with snow but the ground beneath was almost black, the color I could think of was devil’s food cake dusted with sugar crystals. Then later the mountains smoothed out and there were deep ridges of snow and I thought they looked like a a granite counter with mounds of flour. Later the clouds closed in again and they reminded me of the waves frozen over a sea. As it grew dark the clouds became very dark purple and it looked like a terrible storm below, but I think it was only because the sun was setting and darkness was settling in. I couldn’t see the sun setting since I was seated on the eastern side of the plane, but I could see a thin line of red along the cloud line. Once the sky grew dark, I looked for the bright lights of cities, but then I got in to a conversation with the young man seated beside me.
Earlier, when we first were served beverages, he ordered two vodkas with orange juice. I ordered sparkling water. He seemed very young, but he also seemed to be a young man who travels a lot. He asked me if I was going to Doha or Bahrain, and I told him I was going to visit my husband who is working in Doha. I asked if he was from Doha, and he smiled and said I know I look Arab, but I am from Venezuela. He was dark haired with a dark complexion, but I realized that many people from various parts of the world fit that description. So, once I knew he was from Venezuela, I asked him what he thought would happen in Venezuela now that Chavez was dead. We had a very pleasant conversation about the good things Chavez had done for Venezuela, but he also commented that Chavez had done just enough to keep the poor on his side, but not enough to raise people out of poverty. He said there is so much corruption, not necessarily by Chavez, but by many of the people around him. We talked about the greed that motivated the financial collapse in the US. This young man, whose name I never learned, is now working for an oil company located in Qatar as a geologist, but he is currently assigned to live in Denmark and do his work figuring out how to extract the oil of the North Sea. We talked about the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico and the bad reputation, or dirty reputation that BP now has and how difficult it is for that company to cleanse itself. It was a very pleasant conversation and I marveled at the international life this young man has. He has a nine year old daughter (he was only 29, so I commented that he became a father at a very early age) living in Venezuela, I assume with her mother. He is now living in Denmark and has a girlfriend from the UK, and both are working for the same Qatari company. We still had three more hours of our flight, but I sensed that he was growing weary of the conversation as he fumbled with his ear plugs and punched buttons on the screen. I decided that three hours was just enough time to watch Cloud Atlas, so I selected it and placed my ear plugs on too. The movie was OK, part of it were very compelling - but the audio in the plane is difficult to hear, so I had to be content with following the story line superficially.
The film was just ending as we landed in Doha, but fortunately the pilot encouraged us to look out the window at the city as we approached and I was so glad he did. The site was a dazzling array of lights. We were just above the city and flew completely over it and turned around to land, so we got to see the whole city close up. The city center high rises are a glitzy array of sky scrapers each with its own type of multi-colored light show. Reds and blues and oranges - lights blinking off and on and lights forming patterns- truly a spectacular site - a river of white lights lining a highway over the water connecting tiny islands. It was a thrilling site and certainly a product of a conscious effort to create “Doha’s Moment.” This was the title of the article Randy shared with me in a travel magazine which described many exciting sites to see in Doha.
The airport, though was quite unspectacular. Riding in a crowded bus from the airplane to the terminal I could see all the signs of construction. Planes were taking off so nearby, I wondered at the various air traffic control issues that every air port must consider. I have never been on a runway where planes were taking off so near where planes were landing.
Inside the terminal, there were two serpentine lines for “other nationals” and I chose the one on the left and began the slow progress toward the officials checking pass ports. I looked around at all the advertisements. Two large billboards with pictures of Brad Pitt advertising Chanel No. 5, a picture of Julia Roberts advertising something I did not recognize. DKNY, Clinique, and other western designers for clothes, make-up, and fragrances lined the wall. I wondered at the power of these corporations and their ubiquitous presence even in this Islamic nation where I was told I should wear long skirts and show no cleavage or bare shoulders and bring plenty of scarves, and be prepared to have no alcohol. The only sign that I was in an Islamic country was the uniform that all the men working at the entry processing booths wore. Men in the long white robes and the head scarves - some white, some red checked more in the Arafat design - were managing the crowd, directing each of us to the next available line. They spoke in an Arabic language, and they seemed friendly enough. I saw one western looking man being escorted out of the line and taken over to a side room, and I wondered what the issue was, but no one seemed distressed, so perhaps it was nothing serious. Just after I got in line, a bus load of men came in behind me. They looked to me like they were all either from Pakistan or India. Stephen told me later that a plane from Mumbai landed ten minutes after my plane, and it was great that my plane had been on time because an hour later the airport would be mobbed with men arriving from India coming there to work. Stephen says that daily hundreds of workers arrive and each night the airport is mobbed.
I made my way gradually up the line, then was told to go to line four (always a positive omen for me since four is my lucky number). The young man who processed me through the visa purchase, was very handsome, the best looking of all the men I saw performing this task.He was also very gentle and kind. I had half expected gruff treatment and blunt questions.... Why are you visiting Qatar? When will you leave? Let me see your reservation for departure. But all he asked was where would I be staying, and when I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel, he was still very patient. I searched through my purse hoping to find the slip of paper that had the name of the hotel written on it. I did find it and showed it to him and that was that. I was on to claim my bags, which also happened very quickly and then through customs and there were several men there dressed in dark blue robes, but no one was searching any bags so I walked past them and on to the exit. When I reached the next room, I could see the glass wall Stephen had told me to look for and behind the wall were hundreds of people from India, it seemed, waiting for the men who were in line behind me. I could not believe that this could be a daily event and thought it amazing that Doha could put that many people to work.
Behind the crowd of Indians, I could see Stephen, much taller than the crowd and we both smiled at each other and waved. I moved toward the door and lost eye contact with Stephen for a few moments but then when I crossed through the door there he was and we hugged and kissed, even though Stephen had told me that no public displays of affection were allowed. It was great to see him, he looked the same. I had anticipated seeing him look a bit haggard and perhaps a bit thinner, but for good or ill, he doesn’t seem to have lost any weight despite all the walking he has been doing and the absence of alcohol in his diet. He looked like my Stephen and it was so wonderful to be together again.
As we exited the building, he introduced me to the driver, whose name I still have not mastered. I just know it starts with an N. He seemed very nice and took control of my bags and we headed to the car. In the parking lot, I could see the chaos that Stephen had described - drivers turning in to lanes head on into oncoming cars and people honking their horns and forcing the turning driver to back up. Crowds of cars trying to go in every direction. Stephen complimented our driver and said he was the best driver in town. The Arabs, Stephen said, drive like they are on a stallion hell bent on going full speed wherever they want. But our driver is more calm and has a zen like attitude - he is aggressive enough, but also will let other drivers in and is courteous.
As we rode through the town, Stephen pointed out the Museum of Islamic Art, the one building that I have seen many pictures of. Off in the distance, we could see the city center with all of the high rise light shows and Stephen pointed out the building that everyone calls the condom since it is phallic in shape and its pale orange light show has the lights gradually going on and off as if something was being placed gradually over the building. Too funny.
We got to the hotel which Stephen has described as the dump. He has not been that happy with the accommodations and has been moved at least four times to various rooms. The room we are in now is freshly painted and is cleaner and nicer than any of the other rooms he has occupied so far. Stephen gave me some of the directions for how things work or don’t work. There are no lamps in the living area so it is only over head lighting, which I dislike very much. In the kitchen everything has to be plugged in to work and there aren’t enough plugs to accommodate everything at once. The refrigerator, of course, must stay plugged in at all times, but the microwave has to be plugged in when needed. To use the electric tea kettle, I have to unplug the light over the stove, which has two burners, which do not work at all. The rain shower head worked just fine, but Stephen says it occasionally falls apart. But there was plenty of hot water and the pressure was pleasant. It felt good to stand in the hot water for several minutes and to wash my hair.
We decided that we were both tired and that tonight we would just hug and cuddle in bed. It felt so good to hold him beside me again and to talk softly in bed until we were both falling asleep.
Day Three
I had imagined getting up with Stephen in the morning, but when he got up, I was still so drowsy that I stayed in bed and apologized for being such a slug. After he left, I fell back to sleep and had such amazing dreams. In one dream, I opened a door from this room and I wondered why Stephen had not shown it to me. It was a french door which opened up to a vista of a lush natural landscape of water and trees and people working in the fields. I saw a tiger swimming along the surface of the water undulating as if he were doing the breast stoke with his massive body of stripes and wet fur rising and falling as he moved steadily across the landscape and out of site. When I awoke, I realized that it was a dream partly inspired by the film I had watched on the plane - the Life of Pi - with all the scenes of the tiger swimming in the ocean trying to survive. It was the most amazing dream I have ever had and was sorry to realize that this door to a beautiful natural world was only in my imagination. I dreamed too of Stephen touching me and it was so real that I thought he was back in bed with me, but then I awoke from that dream too, but realized that this dream would come true later.
I had a few unpleasant dreams too. In one, Carla Stewart and Kim Turley arrived to visit with me here in Doha for a week and though I was happy to see them and impressed that they would travel all this way to see me, I was upset that they would keep me from having the time to write. The subconscious is an amazing thing and I cannot fathom why those two people would have been paired together and why I would imagine them coming to see me. Maybe it's because they are two teachers my subconscious has connected to my past life as a full time teacher. So I think it was about the possible distractions from writing. I dreamed too that I had made some sort of soup for Kim and the soup had won second place in some sort of contest. Mine was a chicken soup and the first place winner was some sort of tomato based soup. Where did that come from? I have no idea. As I slept and kept awaking from these various dreams, I kept feeling guilty for sleeping the day away and worried that Stephen would get home from work and find me still in bed. So, when I finally awoke enough to actually look at my watch, I realized that it was only 9:30 and I was relieved that I had not slept all day. I got up, made myself a cup of tea, ate two of the date-filled cookies and a banana Stephen had on hand and began to write. Now it is close to one o’clock and I realize I need to move around and exercise, so I think I will venture out the door.
Day Four
After writing yesterday, I came down stairs to the lobby and realized there is a courtyard where I can sit and check email, as the best internet reception is on the first floor. Also it is very pleasant in this open air courtyard, with tables decorated with faded and dusty paper roses. There are a few live plants in pots and they look neglected and dusty too. But the open air is pleasant and the sky above is a pale blue.
After I went back upstairs, I read most of the afternoon. I am enjoying the book club selection - The Round House by Louise Erdrich.
When Stephen got home around four thirty, we visited for awhile, but then went out to explore. As we walked, Stephen pointed out various buildings and told me things he has learned about the various locations. There are many buildings that are near completion, but have been left unfinished. Stephen explained that if a builder or someone wants to build something, the government will provide the land and the money to build, but when it is finished, they must begin the process or repaying the money, so many leave the buildings unfinished until they have enough tenants to fund the loan repayment.With housing in short supply, it seems crazy that so many buildings are standing idle, but the near complete buildings are everywhere to be seen.
This place feels a bit like the wild west must have been. There are new buildings going up every where, but there are also old buildings that are falling down. The sidewalks are often of brick and many have come dislodged so it is treacherous to walk without paying attention to every step. The traffic is also crazy and there seems to be little concern for pedestrians. Stephen assured me that if we step into the street the oncoming cars will stop, but I have taken a very cautious approach to crossing the streets.
I am not sure why Stephen encouraged me to bring long skirts. I have seen very few women dressed in any particularly modest fashion. Most of the people here are not Qatari and are not of the Islamic faith, so most of the women I see are dressed like women anywhere in the west. It is true I have not seen any mini or even short skirts above the knee. I have seen some women wearing veils, more than we would typically see in the US, but still it is not the majority of women. I have seen several dressed in the burka, one was in a fabric store and she was handling a piece of glittery, shimmery gun metal fabric that someone would make a cocktail dress out of. Stephen said that they would wear something like that in the privacy of their homes. Still it seemed very incongruous.
We walked all over this section of town, but it is far from the city center and more shabby in appearance. Still there were some upscale shops scattered throughout. One jewelry shop had gold necklaces as ornate and as heavy as a shield of chain metal. I could not tell if they were pure gold, but even if they are gold plated, they were the most ostentatious pieces of jewelry I have ever seen. I wondered if they were intended for a man or a woman.
As we walked I heard my first prayer time call. No one that I saw stopped to pray, but the singing voice went on for a minute or so. I read in an English language paper the prayer times posted for today. There is one at Fajr -dawn at 4:25 - and another at Shorook -sunrise at 5:41. It is interesting to me that they distinguish between those two times. I have always thought of that first light of dawn as part of the sunrise, but it actually is quite a separate event. Then there is prayer at Zuhr - noon - but the time listed for that is 11:42, so clearly something other than a clock determines the prayer times. Then there is Asr - afternoon prayer - at 3:08, and Maghrib - sunset- at 5:45 and Isha -Night - at 7:15. So I will have to find out more about these times for prayer and why they are scheduled in such a way.
Also in the paper there are two articles about women: “Arab women urged to come out of ‘cage’” This encouragement for liberation was from a senior official of the Qatari Businesswomen’s Association, Aisha Alfardan, the vice chairwoman, who said Qatari women are shy and prefer to conduct their business without coming into the public eye, so few women are members of the organization. She said more women need to do their business dealings more publicly so they can be role models to other women.
The other article was about an artist, a woman who explores the oppression of women in her art. Her latest series of works will be on display and she uses moon imagery as a symbol of women’s experiences.
My morning today was spent reading The Round House. Then I went upstairs to check out the gym, which Stephen said is in such bad repair that it is not usable. But I found it to be in better condition than he described. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to adjust the weights on a few of the machines, but I did figure it out. They are not all functioning as they should, but I found some of them usable.
Now I am waiting for Stephen to get hime from work so we can go out to dinner with some of his co-workers.
Wednesday
I finished reading The Round House today and really enjoyed it. I am excited that I think it is also a book that Stephen will enjoy reading. The narrator is speaking about the events of his life when he was thirteen, but it becomes clear pretty soon that the narrator is actually the adult voice recalling that summer. I keep trying to strike that balance too between the two ages for my writing.
I also worked out for 90 minutes - first in the gym on the sixth floor. The AC was already on, so that was one challenge averted. I used the machines as I did yesterday but added the treadmill today and walked for 22 minutes for 2 km, I think. I don’t really know how far a kilometer is and if it is possible for me to walk to in 22 minutes. Two of the lights for the numerals were out both on the distance and the time measurements, so I can only estimate the distance. When I came down stairs I did some yoga moves and tried to meditate a bit. When I took a shower this time I was successful in getting some hot water, thanks to Stephen’s instructions.
Then I went down to the courtyard to check email and to write. I had only been seated a few minutes when a man asked if he could sit at the table next to me and smoke. My first impulse was to say no, but I didn’t want to appear unfriendly and since we were outside, I thought I could tolerate the smoke. He ordered a coffee and the waitress asked if I wanted anything (all the other times I have sat there, no one asked if I wanted anything and I hadn’t brought money with me so I was content to just sit) but this time I had brought some money, so I ordered mint tea. I was hoping it was truly just mint tea, but what came was lipton tea with mint in it. It was actually very good, but I am sure I will feel the effects of the caffein tonight and will not be able to get to sleep without the help of zolpidem.
My strategy for friendliness worked and a few minutes after the tea was served, I asked the gentleman if it was a custom to leave a gratuity. Stephen and Leah had discussed this last night and it seems that gratuities are not automatically expected here. So I asked the gentleman if a gratuity was appropriate and he said sure you can give one, but since my tea was only five rials, it is not enough to really leave a gratuity. He gave a number that if the bill exceeded then you might leave a gratuity. My question, though, was enough to start a conversation, and at this point I only regret that I did more talking than he did. He is from Jordan and is a free lance consultant in the field of Human Resources. He is here to do some training. In the course of the conversation he told me that he likes Americans. He said the Americans he has met are so kind, and that he knows there is a difference between the government and the people. I mentioned that I was just reading about the Tenth Anniversary of the war in Iraq. We talked about how Germany decided after WWII to spend less money on armaments and that they invested in education and sports and business. I told him I wish the US would spend less on the military.
Eyas has two daughters, a fifteen and an eleven year old. He says his older daughter Mina is completely westernized. She speaks English so she has access to the movies and TV shows. He says part of the problem is that none of the countries here in the Middle East produce movies or shows of the same caliber as the US. He cited as an example that he is a big fan of Columbo, the Peter Falk character. I didn’t admit to practically never watching the show myself. I don’t know how long ago it actually played on TV, but I think it has been a long time ago. But my new friend, Eyas, said that all the shows like that produced in this part of the world are so predictable, in just moments into the show, the viewer already knows who the murderer is. I talked about what I see as the negative influence much of our media has on young people. We talked about the Frontline program’s examination of large corporations’ influence on youth culture (Makers of Cool) - promoting immaturity among boys and sexual maturity among girls. I mentioned that Stephen’s co-worker saw a group of children watching Pulp Fiction in the TV room off the lobby down stairs and Eyas, said “sure, they all love that movie. It’s one of Mina’s favorites.”
I have perused the TV stations here a bit. The other night Stephen and I happened on a movie that I was not familiar with, but it had a predominately black cast and a woman was telling a man all the things a “sistah” needs. It was a comedy for sure in English but with Arabic subtitles. Then there is The Gladiator, but not the movie, the wrestling show with all the extremes of fake violence and exaggerated pronouncements of male virility. Then there is the fashion channel with anorexic models with bizarre clothes that no one wears. It seems that if these are the windows into American culture that the impressions are pretty skewed.
Stephen and I just visited the roof top and the pool area for the first time, and I have now witnessed the reasons why Stephen calls this place a dump. So far I have thought the description was a bit of an exaggeration, but the pool area is a ruin. The roof top pool is completely empty and the wall surrounding it is in various stages o f disrepair. The original pool deck is gone and you can tell that by the broken tiles surrounding the walls. But from the roof I could see off in the distance the hospital Stephen is working on. Right across from our hotel is a large blank area that apparently has been leveled. Stephen explained that there are whole sections of the city that the Emir did not like - Kentucky Fried Chickens and other types of commercial buildings, so he had these sections leveled and they are available for new development. But looking at the several acres of land across the street from our hotel you can really see that this is a city carved out of a desert. Nothing green seems to thrive here. There are Cassia trees lining the boulevard where our hotel is, and Stephen says they have been in bloom since he arrived. They still have their blooms, but they are fading and I think also so covered in sandy dust that they are not as vibrant as before. The palm trees are also covered in sandy dust. Stephen says it has only lightly rained one time since he arrived in January.
We are going out to dinner with Leah again tonight. I met her last night and she is delightful. Only 46, with two children in their twenties, a son with autism who is high functioning and is getting a degree in a scientific field so he can be a researcher. Her daughter is an artist living in San Francisco. We ate at a Syrian restaurant. I had their special with lamb and egg plant, but I couldn’t find any eggplant until I ate the left overs today and discovered a bit at the bottom of the pile of rice. It was good, but not fantastic. Not sure where we are headed tonight, but it’s time to go.
Dinner tonight was Asiana - a restaurant which serves some Indian some Chinese and probably some other Asian dishes that I did not recognize. I had the Prawns Masala - a little on the sweet side, but I enjoyed it. Walking back we felt a shift in the weather. They have predicted some rain for tomorrow, so we will see. All of the dust covered leaves and palms, I am sure, would benefit from a good down pour.
We leave for Dubai in the morning; Stephen is taking Thursday and Saturday off with his scheduled day off Friday, so we have three days together. We are looking forward to the change of scenery. Everyone says Doha is where Dubai was 20 years ago. Leah, Stephen’s co-worker who has been here just about a week now, compared the development here to what a town might do preparing to host the Olympics. I think the difference would be that this city is tearing down as much as it is building, at least at this stage. The World Cup is in 2022, so that is still nine years away. I am not sure how long ago they learned that they would be hosting, but perhaps only a year ago, so we are really in the early stages of the development.
Sunday -
We have been to Dubai and returned. It is a short flight - one hour - but you gain an hour going over and lost the hour coming back.
We arrived in Dubai and quickly got a cab. The uniform of the woman driver said “Ladies Cab” so I was not sure if she could take us, but she assured us she could and when I asked her where she is from she said Ethiopia. She is not married yet, she told us. I have made a point of asking each driver and each person I meet where he or she is from because I am amazed at the international make up of the people here.
Thursday afternoon, we arrived at our hotel and it was lovely - with a great view of the beautiful turquoise water stretching out to the horizon. Straight across the bay we could see the Atlantis - it must be impressive up close because it is very large on the horizon. There were yachts and boats of various sizes in the water - a busy area but most were stationary. We learned that many amenities were included in our room rate - an afternoon tea which was about to begin, a happy hour a few hours later, and morning breakfast - all served on the tenth floor - four floors above us. There was indoor seating by the window and seating outside on a deck. We sat inside for the tea, but then chose a table outside for the happy hour a few hours later. The tea with mint that I requested was the best tea I have had maybe ever. It was so smooth - none of the bitterness that I frequently chase with a dose of sugar. There were also dainty treats both salty and sweet. We relaxed and enjoyed the wonderful service. After the tea we walked the grounds to get a feel for the layout of the two “sister” hotels and found out that there was a Thursday night all you can eat and drink seafood feast at the neighboring hotel, so we made a reservation for 8:30. We went back to the room and cleaned up and dressed up - although Stephen had forgotten to bring any dinner clothes with him - no jacket - but I told him it is common for couples to go out together and the woman be far more dressed up than the men. I had wonted to get a picture of us in Dubai with me in my new black dress and him dressed up too - to fit the very fancy picture frame Teresa gave me for my birthday - but no such picture was made while there. We’ll try again some evening in Doha.
We went to the happy hour and the staff there took a few pictures of us that turned out OK. Looking at ourselves in the pictures reminds both of us that we are heavier than we would like to be. Stephen has been here two months and has not been drinking at all and has been walking a lot too, but he said he probably has replaced the alcohol with too many biscuits. I resolved to get a full length mirror at home and place it in a place where I can see myself every day to remind me of how heavy I am. I have begun the week with a work out in the gym and 20 minutes on the treadmill. Enough about that.
We had a delightful time at dinner. We ate outside and were surrounded by guests and waiters from everywhere. A large party of about eight women and one young man was near us. They spoke a Slavic language but we were not sure what country until we asked one of the waiters (from India), and he told us they were Russian. That made sense. They were celebrating one woman’s birthday and were in a very celebratory mood and were jovially loud. At the table closest to us was a foursome of Australians. Stephen joked with them a bit about one of the men in the party who disappeared for awhile. His date or the woman who was clearly missing him made some jokes about what he was up to. Everyone had a lot of laughs. There was an older couple nearby too who were more sedate. They were pretty unattractive with double chins and her hair was pinned up in an old fashioned way that only highlighted the sagging chin. They were humorless and seemed hardly to speak to one another at all, so we never figured out where they were from. They seemed of Germanic origins, but again, I was not sure.
The all-you-can-eat lobster was really all I wanted to eat, none of the other fish tempted me at all. But the lobster, grilled on an open fire not far from our table, was always a bit dry - cooked too long even though there were always people standing by ready to take up the cooked pieces as the chefs made them available. But the waiters were quick to fill up our wine glasses and we ate and drank our fill.
We strolled around the grounds a bit, really ready to go to bed, but the rest of the marina was pulsing with an unceasing party beat. But Stephen and I have never been late-night partiers, so we headed back to our room. I put some music on the laptop but could not completely drown out the jungle beat that went on for hours. We had a lovely romantic time in our large and cozy king size bed and fell asleep immune to the throbbing rhythm of the night life below.
Breakfast on the terrace on the tenth floor was lovely too. The morning was clear and the day promised to be much nicer weather than when we arrived.
We headed out to see Dubai after getting a few suggestions from Juma, the very handsome doorman. When I asked where he was from, he smiled widely and cheerfully replied, “China!” I looked at him with some doubt as he was clearly an African man, but he persisted with the joke and told me that his color came from working in the coal mines of China, his beautiful smile and playfulness unlike any of the other individuals we had met. He looked at me and asked, “Where do you think I am from?” and I replied with a name like Juma, I would say Africa, but I don’t know what country. I wanted him to know that I knew Africa was a continent, not a country. He laughed and said he came from the land of Obama. We all smiled then and I said “ahhhh Kenya. That makes sense.” He has that same kind of Obama smile, so warm and winning. He told us a few places we should visit. We told him we were not that interested in spending time in a mall; he agreed, a mall is a mall, no matter how large the mall is. The two famous malls in Dubai are known for their size and for the Ski Dubai at one. Stephen wanted to have his picture made at the Ski Dubai so we were heading there first for a short visit. But Juma suggested we visit Old Dubai and cross the creek on the old boats that are there. I asked him if he liked it in Dubai or if he missed Kenya. He said he loves Nairobi, the only city that has a wildlife preserve connected tot he city. “I like the wild things,” he said, “better than the cities.” We talked a bit about the elephants being slaughtered and he said the big animals like the elephants are being moved out of the park, but he didn’t know where to. Our bus arrived and we said good bye for the day. The bus wound through the rest of Dubai south of our hotel and picked up other hotel guests, so it was a bit of a tour in itself. We got to the Mall of the Emirates where we quickly found the Ski Dubai attraction, wandered inside where excited children were getting their ski gear on. It seemed very Disnsyesque, but there were what appeared to be a few serious skiers also gearing up. I took pictures of Stephen outside by the Ski Dubai sign and we found our way to an exit, passing by Dior, Jimmy Choo, and every designer shop one might long for.
We took a cab to the Dubai Museum, which is in the old section of Dubai, but because it was Friday (Stephen’s only full day off) and the Sabbath, the museum did not open till 2:30, so we started searching for the creek and the markets nearby. We passed by the first shop and the proprietor was quick to begin his sales pitch. I had admired a wildly colored pair of ballooning pants and so he wanted to show me every style and fabric variation available, but really the style would not be very flattering on me. I was more interested in a cashmere pashmina of turquoise and pale rose design with a paisley pattern. He said it cost 200 rials (or whatever the denomination is in Dubai), but I told him that was too much. He offered a lower price, but I told him that was still too high, and that I would come back later once I shopped a bit more. But he knew what lay ahead of me - twenty or more shops with just the same wares and equally aggressive sales men, so he was not about to let me get out of the shop. He turned to Stephen and showed him one of the traditional red and white scarves and placed it on his head along with the rope that holds the scarf in place. I took a picture of Stephen in it, but he looked pretty ridiculous. I tried once again to leave, but finally the high spirited and determined young man said, tell me a price that you will pay and I will sell it for that. I thought that $30 was a fair price so I had Stephen figure out the amount in rials - 110. He looked quizzically at the price and then said OK. So Stephen gave him that amount, he put the scarf in the bag and we left the shop.
As we passed the other shops along the way, each shop keeper cried out to come see his pashminas, but I was able to show them my bag and assure them that I had made my purchase.
We wound our way down to the creek - which was really a river - so I wondered why it got the name of the creek. There were assembled there the old traditional boats each ready to take us across the river, but Stephen and I were really just there to see it all and wanted to walk along the creek rather than cross over. This section of old Dubai was probably far more deserted because of the sabbath than it would have been the next day, but we were content to wander. We wandered into the Museum of Architecture and the Security Guard there told us there was no admittance due to the Sabbath, and we were turning to go when he said, “well, I’ll let you have a short tour.” So we started to wander on our own. I took a picture of a floral design on the wall, and he came up to stop me and said no pictures. He was from Bangladesh and his English was a bit hard to understand (in all these situations, I am aware that they have worked hard to learn English, and I regret that it is the only language that I speak). Instead he started to give us a guided tour and he took my camera and started to place us in all kinds of poses and he took our picture. One pose with two figures representing men at work. The guard directed Stephen to get down on a knee and pretend to work along side the figure of a man pounding on rocks. I was to stand next to the other man who held a shopping basket aloft in one hand. The Guard had us pose in several other tableaus and each one got sillier and sillier, but he kept snapping our pictures and then he took pictures of everything but of the thing I wanted to take a picture of - the decorative floral designs on the walls.
In one setting he asked Stephen how many wives he had, and Stephen told him just one. The Guard started to talk about the power of date honey to give men the strength to- and he demonstrated with two fists pulling back toward his hips and the hips thrusting forward - the old universal language of the pelvic thrust. Clearly, the man was delighted with his sexy joke. He told us he had four wives and laughed again, then said no he was just kidding. He took us upstairs to see still more of the museum. He explained the technology of the wind tunnel - the one architectural detail that we both found interesting. It’s a part of the building that is like a tower but it is designed to catch the wind and bring it on the house to cool it. I wondered if the tower would also have some way of filtering the sand out of the wind before it reached the living quarters below, for one thing that is clear to see in both Doha and Dubai- these cities have been carved out of a desert land. When flying in, you can see the treeless desert, all a monochrome of sandy sameness. Stephen tipped the man from Bangladesh for his entertaining tour and we escaped the Museum of Islamic Architecture.
We strolled along the Creek hoping to find the Gold Souk or the Spice souk, but we didn’t see any signs of either and decided to turn back. I did see a camel tethered nearby so I took a picture of him. We got back to the Dubai Museum just as about ten tour buses arrived and the place was mobbed so we decided that we would skip the museum. We headed back to the tallest building in the world near the large mall. We didn’t realize that we needed tickets to go up to the top of the tallest building and they were all sold out for the rest of the day, so we didn’t get to do that either. I wasn’t really all that disappointed. I am sure it would have been a great view if the visibility from up there was good, but it looked like a hazy day. We still had more than an hour before the first of the performances by the musical water fountain began. We had some lunch - tabouli and hummus and stuffed grape leaves, which we enjoyed. We found a bench to sit on and wait for the fountain show. Again, there were people from everywhere and women dressed in every fashion one might see in the west. One young woman had a sheer blouse with a black bra underneath and cut off short shorts. It seems that anything goes here just like anywhere else in the world. However, there were many women in burkas with faces covered and other women in scarves. There was a billboard advertising a Rihanna concert for earlier in March. There are provocative ads with women heavily made up. Walking around the mall in Dubai is like walking in a mall in any western country.
Finally the fountain began to perform right at six. It was an Italian opera - not sure which one - a female soprano voice with quite a range. The water spurted up in a synchronized design, but there never was anything even approaching 200 feet. The choreography for the performance we saw was graceful and in some ways lovely, but since Stephen and I had spent over an hour just waiting for the performance, we were pretty underwhelmed by the site.
We got back to the hotel in time for the happy hour, and had some wine and light bites. We decided that we would eat dinner at the Thai restaurant on the hotel property and have a more low key night than the night before. The food was good, not wonderful, but acceptable. I am still waiting for that amazing meal, and I hope we do have a few while I am here.
Our flight was at mid-day Saturday, so that morning we just needed to pack and be on our way. I got a chance to visit with Juma again as Stephen was handling the check out. Juma was just one of those fun and good natured people that is probably capable of a whole lot more than just greeting people and opening their doors.
The flight back to Doha was pleasant enough - again just a one hour flight, so we were back to our own hotel early enough in the day and I was eager to go again, this time to see the Museum of Islamic Art and to see the Souk. We scrounged around for a ride or taxi to the museum and ran into a man driving a white car and Stephen assured me that he was like our Nushaud - a professional driver looking for a fare to earn between duties for his regular clients.
We got to the museum and decided that on this visit we would look at the permanent exhibit and come again later to see the Afghanistan exhibit. The building itself is quite a stunning work of art positioned by the water set off by itself, so the full splendor of the building is apparent from many angles. There were many wooden ships anchored in the harbor too which added to the beauty of the setting. All around the water is a broad walkway called the Corniche, and there were many people out walking enjoying the pleasant weather.
The exhibit was made up of pieces of Islamic art from countries all over the middle east, but it seemed to me that a large percentage of them were from Iran. Persian rugs of every size and in every state of repair. The ceramics were beautiful too and I wondered why so many are glazed in that celadon/teal color. It is a favorite color of mine. There were many illuminated manuscripts with various styles of script, pages and pages from ancient Korans and a full body of armor for both man and horse.
The previous text is the journal record I kept before I started the blog. So there is some repetition, but I wanted to consolidate the two so I would have it all in one place.
Stephen accepted a job in Doha, Qatar, and he left Florida on January 20. I traveled to Doha on March 16 to visit with him for three weeks. After being in Doha for just a few days, we flew to Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Here are the highlights of my time in Doha and Dubai.
