Day 15 – 17 May, 2011

SOUQS

Went to the souqs last night with Joanne. What a blast. The souqs is a gigantic market, rife with narrow passageways and all manner of shops, restaurants and people. This wasn’t my first time, I went once before by myself, shortly after I moved into my apartment. However, that time, I stupidly wore my normal western clothes, which, in my case, isn’t a whole lot. Little sundress with spaghetti straps. Didn’t take me long to learn not to dress like that in the souqs. With my upper arms and lower leg, covered in tattoos, I got a lot of unwanted stares. This time I wore my work clothes (we have to wear sleeves that cover our elbows and pants, shorts or a skirt that covers the knees). However, I still can’t hide the huge tattoo on my calf or the one on my wrist. So I got fewer stares, but still quite a bit of attention. Tattoos are forbidden in Islam, because it’s defiling the body. Now, some people are open-minded and understand I may have different beliefs than they do and I do sometimes get compliments. But last night, there was this one man in a wheelbarrow (passageways of the souqs are full of men, shopkeepers and old men with wheelbarrows who will carry your purchases if you want) who saw my tattoo and did some wild gesticulating, pointing at his calf, shaking his head and clucking his tongue, and then raising his arms up to the sky. Despite the lack of verbal expression, it was pretty clear he was letting me know I was offending Allah. Oh well, I guess I won’t go to muslim heaven after all. So the next two photos show one of the wheelbarrow men and the Fanar Centre (the spiral mosque), an Islamic cultural centre.

Anyway, Joanne had a couple of errand type things to do but mainly we just walked around kind of aimlessly. We stopped at the camel lot (where they sell camels). I asked her how much she thinks a camel costs, she figured perhaps upwards of 500 000 QR (around 135 000,00 $ CDN). Too bad – I was planning on buying a pair, now I guess I’ll have to limit myself to one. In particular, there are piles of shops that sell fabric, in fact, I’ve never seen so many bolts of fabric in one geographic area, let alone a single market. There are also many shops that sell the traditional arab garb, nuts, spices and sweets, strange and unusual trinkets and toys (there’s one shop that sells more sponge bob things than I could have ever imagined existed.

Quite disturbing was the domestic animal area. Bunnies, cats, dogs, ornamental pigeons (Darwin would be thrilled, I bet), ducks, parrots (mainly budgies, Congo African greys and blue-fronted Amazons, nearly all very young individuals, but also some cockatiels, ring-necked parakeets and a green-winged macaw). Many of these animals are in deplorable conditions, crammed several individuals into small cages (see photos), though less so the parrots, they were mostly out of their cages, free to bite the closest unwary finger. Of course, their wings were all trimmed incorrectly, outer primaries intact, but inner primaries and outer secondaries clipped so that the bird can gain speed and lift but can’t land safely without smashing its keel or beak on the ground. But most appalling was the dyed animals, specifically baby chickens – see video below. I can’t begin to understand what that’s about.

We also went to the gold souqs, which is an area (indoors mainly) of stores selling nothing but gold. I’ve never seen anything remotely like the jewelry these people covet. It kind of defies description. The gaudiest, heaviest, most ridiculous stuff. I asked about this one necklace which was like a series of interconnected shields, with all kinds of fancy filigree and ornamentation. I asked where people here would wear something like that (to a wedding) and how much these pieces weigh (up to a kg!). Holy moly, that’s a whole lot of gold. I’ve attached a video.

The best part of the evening was our dinner. We went to an Iranian restaurant, called Isfahan. Never in my life have I seen a décor like this. It was absolutely incredible. Extremely ornate, with mirrored mosaics, crazy chandeliers, a fountain, amazing wall decorations (these murals and sort of statues built into the walls). It was way, and I do mean way, over the top, but exquisitely beautiful just the same. I was completely enthralled. I’ve attached a photo of a chandelier – I took video as well, but I have to rotate it and that takes forever, or I may not have to - let's see - if I can, I'll put the video instead. The meal was great, the service was too, and they had live Iranian music – a violinist and a guy on keyboard/vocals. The violinist was amazing – both Joanne and I detected a slight Celtic influence in some of the songs, which was really unexpected, but very cool. Man, I’ve missed listening to live music (and my practicing barre chords is more torture than listening pleasure.

Tomorrow, I’m supposed to go back to Fuwayriit to see if we can manage to see a female sea turtle actually laying her eggs. CJ and I (and possibly Suzanne) will leave straight from work, have a picnic on the beach and hopefully await the arrival of a turtle.

One last thing. I have NO MONEY. My bank card for some strange reason simply wouldn’t work, not in any of the 5 ATMs I tried. I haven’t had any problems till now and I phoned the bank when I got back to my appartement last night, but they couldn’t see what the problem was. I did try again this afternoon – same deal. I may have to ask someone to wire me a large sum (via western union) and I’ll pay them back immediately via email money transfer – please let me know if you’re willing to do this. I do have the money to cover it.

Oh, and I can’t phone anyone because out of the blue, for like the first time, skype asked me for a password. I have no bloody clue what it is. Greg set up my account for me and I thought I knew what it was, but clearly I don’t. That’s mildly annoying. And the reset email they sent me for some reason hasn’t arrived – how long can that possibly take?


UPDATE: Skype situation fixed this morning (wednesday) and $$ situation resolved by CJ, who offered to take me to a better bank this afternoon and if that doesn't work, to exchange cash for friendship (haha!), no to exchange cash for an email $$ transfer. Man, the UCQ people are awesome.

Day 11: 13-May-11

JOKE’S ON ME – HAHA NOT FUNNY AT ALL

So yesterday I had a bit of a morning from Hell. The night before, I planned to be a good girl, finally go to bed early (this getting up at 6h15 business is kind of not what I’m used to, especially not when Greg stays over at my house, because God knows he doesn’t like to get up early and reacts to his alarm like a teenager does – and I mean that in the nicest possible way). Anyway, I started to get ready for bed at around 22h00. I’ve been using my ipod touch as an alarm clock – but for some stupid reason, every time I connect it to the computer or to the external speaker (which also charges it) the time seems to get pushed back an hour (it’s like daylight savings time every day!). So every night, I double-check that the time is correct before going to bed.

Every night except that night. My alarm went off yesterday morning at 6h15 and I could barely open my eyes, which I thought was kind of weird. I also thought it was kind of weird that it was darker than normal at that hour in the apartment. In any event, I ate my juice and cereal and had my coffee and made my lunch and then thought I should check how much time I had left before Abdullah was going to arrive (he picks me up at 7h30). I turned on my mobile phone only to find that lo and behold it was 6h00. I literally swore out loud – man was I ever pissed. I tried to go back to sleep, but who can sleep right after drinking 2 cups of coffee and getting all angry? Instead, I played video games on my ipod and did a little research about this problem. Apparently, it’s kind of common. But talk about annoying!

WHO THE HECK IS IN MY CLASS ANYWAY?

So I was truly exhausted all day. Oh, and today I only had 2 students: Sarah and Stephany. Oh wait, let me back up – I just realized I haven’t really explained what UCQ and my job and my class are like. First things first: my students. Hmmm, to be honest – I’m not really sure who’s in my class. I was originally supposed to have 18 students, but a number of them failed the pre-requisites. Then I was supposed to have 9 or 10. Then 7. Two of which approached Sondra Hutton (in student services) and told her they didn’t want to take my course because they don’t like biology and they didn’t like it in high school. OK – let me get this straight – you don’t like biology, but you want to be a nurse. Interesting. Actually, it turns out, many of the students at UCQ are only doing this because it’s what their parents want them to do or to have some way to pass the time. So the first day of class, 2 students showed up: Stephany and Merdh (pronounced Merda). Merdh is Qatari, Stephany is Malaysian, originally from Sarawak, which is on the island of Borneo. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I’ve never met anyone from Borneo, which is the place I want to visit more than anywhere on Earth.  Anyway, I didn’t end up giving the lecture, figured I’d give the students another day to turn up, instead I talked with the two of them and got to know them. They are both delightful. Stephany’s parents have lived in Qatar for many yrs – her dad’s a professional. She and her sister lived in NZ for several yrs (her sister is still there) but she came to Qatar about a year ago.

When Sondra found out how few students showed up, she tried to find me new students and managed to scrounge up 3 more. All of them are in the foundation program (it’s kind of like a freshman year). Their names are Safa, Wafa and Garyhian. Safa is Qatari, Wafa was born in Qatar, but her family comes from Sudan and Gahryman is from Turkmenistan. They showed up on day 2, along with Stephany, Sarah and Mahsa, (born in Qatar but family from Iran, speaks perfect English). Day 2 was awesome. I taught them about Darwin’s theory of natural selection, some aspects of which go against the teachings of Islam, but I made it clear that they were free to retain their beliefs, but that I was teaching them the scientific view of things. It went fantastic. These students are sharp. Plus, Sarah, who’s a total attention-seeker and talks all the time out of turn, but still has relevant things to say, came up to me at the end, told me she really enjoyed my class and presented me with a sandwich that she bought me. White bread (crusts removed), butter, cheese, lettuce. Told me it was delicious. I thanked her profusely, ended up giving the sandwich to Abdullah, because of course I can’t eat anything with milk (so no white bread, butter or cheese). However, Merdh did not show and hasn’t shown up since. As for Gahryman, he was there, but after 2 hrs of a 3 hr lecture, he stood up and asked to be excused because he had to go do something for his mother.

On day 3, I had everyone from the previous day except Gahryman and the lecture was pretty much all about the origins of macromolecules and of life on Earth. Again, it went great. On day 4, which was a lab/tutorial orientation (yesterday) only Stephany and Sarah showed up. Sarah asked me what was going to happen to the other students that were absent. I told her to concern herself with her own performance and not that of her classmates and not to worry, I had things under control.

THE HUMAN HIERARCHY – BEING QATARI IS GOOD

So you see, I really don’t know who is in my class, i.e., who will show up on a given day, but apparently this is normal. Now, I realize you may be wondering why I gave all the details as to where every one of them is from. Well, I thought you might be interested to learn about the hierarchy of people in Qatar. It’s all about where you’re from. If you were born here, it doesn’t necessarily mean you are a Qatari. It seems that Qataris are only considered as such if their lineage is Qatari.

These people are the uppermost echelon of society. These are the filthy rich folks I was talking about. Sarah told me some interesting things. We were talking about the unrest in this part of the world, especially Syria, Lybia, Bahrain, Oman. She said that won’t happen here because everyone loves the Sheikh. I asked why. She explained how wonderful he is, mainly, I gather because of the distribution of wealth. She told me (and I verified that this is all true) that Qataris (and only Qataris) enjoy free utilities, health care and post-secondary education. Furthermore, upon graduation, a position will be waiting for her, whereas poor Stephany (her words) will have to look for a job. Oh, and don’t let me forget: while she goes to school, she earns a salary. She told me the minimum is 8 000 QR (the equivalent of about 2 125,00 $ CDN). I said: “per year?” She laughed and said: “no, per month”. But she earns much more than that, this is just the minimum. When Qataris get married, the government buys them a piece of land and/or a house. Yes, life for Qataris is very easy. No such thing as poverty.

Below Qataris are other Arabs. Next come the expats, which have their own hierarchy. Whites are at the top – they occupy professional jobs. Next come Philippinos – they typically occupy white collar jobs or are in the service industry. After that are Indians – like my driver Abdullah. Many of them come from the same state as he does (Kerala) and they occupy labour positions, like drivers, cleaners, etc. Next come the Bangladeshis and Sri Lankans. At the bottom of the heap are the Nepalese. And these people, the Indians and below, are treated openly as lower class. No wonder Abdullah loves Canadians so much. To me, this is the ugly side of Qatar, one of the most racist, classist societies I have ever seen.

SOME FACTS ABOUT WOMEN IN QATAR AND ISLAM

I also wanted to explain to you about the dress here. People in the west seem to think that the niqab and the abaya are signs of oppression, and that these women are meek and mild and beaten down in a way. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, whether a woman wears an abaya (face showing) or a niqab (cutouts for the eyes) is totally up to her as an individual. She only removes the garments in front of her family and other women. These girls and women are definitely not meek. They are typical semites (essentially Israelis and Arabs). Outspoken, pushy, impolite by our standards, but totally genuine – and to be honest, I quite like them. Wearing these garments is not a matter of religion, but rather a matter of culture. Oh, and I learned something very interesting about Islam. I noticed that Abdullah doesn’t wear a wedding ring, despite being married. I asked him whether they exchange rings in India. He told me that he gave his wife a ring and a necklace but that he received a watch. I joked that he got the short end of the stick. But then he told me that wearing gold is forbidden for Muslim men, but didn’t know why. It turns out that gold is deemed to be for women (as is silk, by the way) and that the Qur’an forbids men to “act like women” and vice versa.

MEETING NEW PEOPLE

They had a gathering yesterday afternoon for international nurses' day and to welcome me. It was interesting - i met one guy, John, who is also very into music, knows Los Morenos from Calgary, plays guitar, he was like "we should jam sometime". I laughed. Earlier, I met this other guy, who's in charge of IT on campus. He also plays guitar, told me all about his custom 1978 Les Paul. So I showed him a photo of Greg's guitar and told him that I also play a Les Paul. He suggested I sing with him and a few other guys at this end of the year chili cook-off thing they're having at the end of june. We'll see. Well, actually he suggested I play my guitar and sing. I laughed. Hard. Although, last night, for the first time ever, I managed to play a 3 chord song without looking at the guitar at all. Right now, I'm trying to learn "Yellow" by Coldplay, which has a bloody barre chord (F#minor), but it's actually going not too badly, although the strumming pattern needs serious improvement.

BIRDWATCHING

OK, so my day today: well, I was already exhausted, so I figured, why not get up at the ungodly hour of 4h15 and then leave at 5h00 to go birdwatching in the desert with Eric Tull, his wife and a couple of British gents? I know, I’m crazy. Qatar is, of all countries, the most impoverished in terms of wildlife habitat, being the only country to have no open fresh water. So where to go birdwatching? A farm in the middle of the desert, where they grow forage for camels, followed by a trip to a lovely sewage lagoon. The farm is interesting – small, a few groves of some kind of tree (maybe olive?), and not much else for habitat, other than the electric wires and some irrigation puddles. One thing you notice in Qatar: a constant parade of sewage trucks on the highway – bringing raw sewage to the lagoon. Guess who drives these trucks (yes, that’s right, Indians). Anyway, I wanted so badly to see rollers and bee-eaters, and I saw both. So here’s the list:

Larks (crested and hoopoe); Spanish sparrow; bush robin; doves (collared and namaqua); pallid swift; European roller; spotted flycatcher; white-eared bulbul; common nightingale; black-crowned sparrowlark; shrikes (red-backed, isabelline and southern grey); common redstart; greater flamingo; black-winged stilt; tern (either little or saunder’s – couldn’t ID); pied avocet, little grebe; common moorhen; collared pratincole; dunlin; little stint; ruff.

Plus, I saw camels, uromastyx (although I believe I may have caused the death of one – don’t really want to discuss that) and a gerboa (which apparently was very lucky).

This afternoon, for some reason (actually I know the reason, I just don't care to discuss it here) I felt super homesick and lonely. So I called Greg, crying. As usual, he made me feel better and as usual we ended up laughing and having a good conversation. Not surprisingly, when I phoned him (9h45 MST) he was still in bed. Haha. Oh God, I'm so in love, it verges on nauseating - or maybe I'm still jetlagged. Kidding! Seriously, what's really good is I'm way less stressed than I was when I first got here about him cheating on me while I'm away (although I suppose that fear is totally understandable given, well, wait - if you know me well enough, i don't need to spell it out for you). I can tell he totally misses me.

OK, that's it (long enough for you?). I miss home, but don't worry about me. I love Qatar.

PS: ugh, looks like i'm on the hedgehog/nocturnal insect night waiting list.

much love and peace to all,

Day 8 10-may-2011 – sea turtles at Fuwayriit

CJ and Lisa came to get me at 17h30 and after grabbing some quick takeaway at yet another highly opulent shopping centre food court, complete with merry-go-round, we were on the road. It’s about an hour’s drive to Fuwayriit beach, on the northeast Qatar coast. Most of that drive is on a brand new, smooth as mirror 6-lane-hwy with nothing but desert on both sides. But then a small, yet not insignificant part is driving pretty much through that desert, in CJ’s Honda Civic. All I can say about that is, well, wow. And it was like “hmm, I think we’re supposed to go around this outcropping, hmmm, do you think it was along this depression in the sand, or that one?”

When we parked the car, we had to walk through the desert in the dark, which was very cool, and then you come to a sort of fence made of fabric with several “doors” in it. We marked the door with my bandanna so we’d find the car again on the way out.

Hawksbill sea turtles nest on various Qatari beaches but face, much like sea turtles everywhere, tremendous pressures. In this case, the main problem today is vehicles driving on the beach and disturbing turtle nests. Currently, Qatar has lost > 80% of the sea turtles it once had and they are legally protected. People used to dig up the nests and eat the eggs (gross!) or else hunt the turtles and eat the meat. That is now illegal and less of a problem. It seems that Qataris recognize the need to protect this species. So the government has a protection program in place, essentially, a guy (Shafeeq) in an Atco trailer on the beach, who scoots around every night during nesting season in a dune buggy, searching for nesting females. When he finds one, he marks the spot, then when the female is finished laying (this can take hours) he measures her, tags one of her flippers, (in some cases) puts a satellite transmitter on her, and then digs up her eggs. These, he moves to a specific location on the beach that he can keep watch over, making sure these new nests aren’t disturbed.


By the time we arrived, a fairly small female, and by fairly small, I mean at least 25 years old and slightly over a metre long carapace (the shell on the back) length, had finished laying and covering her eggs and was actually flipped over on her back, trying to figure out where the hell that darned ocean was. Shafeeq’s boss, from the Dept of the Environment, who was there tonight and drove us out to her got out of the dune buggy and turned her upright. This turtle had quite the hard time figuring out which direction to go in, was it the lights of the dune buggies that confused her or was she just slightly dumb? Who knows. Either way, the whole spectacle brought tears to my eyes. She was beautiful, although the barnacles growing on her head and carapace were somewhat unattractive, and incredibly exhausted. 

Then it was time for Shafeeq to tag her (while Lisa held the flipper) and measure her (WHILE I GOT TO HOLD HER IN PLACE!!!!!!!!). Definitely one of the highlights of my life. And let me tell you, that mama was strong – it took all my strength to keep her in one place and at one point she was literally dragging me along the beach. Amazing. 

She eventually made her way to sea, and by that I mean Shafeeq’s boss picked her up, brought her closer to the water and pointed her in the right direction.

Then Shafeeq dug up the nest, which was about 45 cm deep or so. It contained 61 eggs, most perfectly round, slightly soft and similar to a golf ball in size. Some were much smaller or deformed – apparently those aren’t viable and clutches typically contain some non-viable eggs. He moved the eggs to another spot, which already has 9 other clutches. It takes about 2 months for the eggs to incubate, so the first ones should start hatching in mid-june, which we’ll definitely be able to see. We’ll probably also go back to watch nesting females again too.

Now, I should explain that sea turtle survival is typically low. I have no idea what it is for this population. I also know that the depth of the nest (and nest temperature) is what determines the sex ratio of the offspring, as opposed to genetics, as in mammals, for example. This is really a rudimentary conservation operation – I didn’t even bother mentioning to Shafeeq that if they aren’t careful about how they relocate the eggs, they may end up with highly skewed sex ratios in the population. To learn more about the trajectory satellite-tracked females make in the gulf, visit http://www.seaturtle.org/tracking/index.shtml?tag_id=105847&anime=1

We then had the amazing experience of swimming in the Persian gulf in the moonlight. The water was warm, clear and the current was strong. But everything about tonight was an absolute delight and the weather was perfect. Oh, and Shafeeq took my contact info because they’re looking for a wildlife biologist. Hmmm, in particular, it seems they want someone to help out with a shark project. Oh my God, what I wouldn’t give to work with sharks. I told him that I’m more than willing to get my diving certificate and that I’d jump at that opportunity.

There are so many reasons why I love Qatar, this is just one more.

Below is some video I took.

Peace to all.

Day 7

May 8, 2011

They call it a Doha moment. What is it? It’s what happens to everyone who comes to UCQ (University of Calgary Qatar). The jetlag is so bad that you go to work your first week in a complete and total fog and remember very little. Apparently, for every time zone you cross (and I crossed 9) it typically takes one day to adjust. I thought I had some kind of magic forcefield protecting me. And by forcefield, of course, I mean little blue sleeping pills. Not to mention, I figured I was super adaptable to time changes given those 3 summers switching from being a normal, diurnal human being on a reasonable work schedule, to working all night long every night and then some (man, those 18-hour days were totally insane). But I guess nobody gets off scot free. My first night in my apartment (Wednesday), I slept a total of zero hours. Instead I tossed and turned for 3 hours, then gave up and spent the wee hours playing video games and chatting with my brother and then my boyfriend on skype. Unfortunately, this was the night preceding my first day on campus, which was therefore a maze of faces and corridors, none of which I really remembered. Thus (and I’m skipping ahead), when I went in to my office today, I had a ridiculous amount of trouble recalling who I’d met, where my office was, etc.

Still, I did meet this really great girl, CJ, that first day and she took me to lunch at the Villagio (a shopping centre which is a total knock off of the Bellagio in Vegas, complete with canal and skating rink, not to mention Van Cleef and Arpels, Cartier, Versace, BCBG, etc. What do you think I did? Blow the bank on diamonds and pearls, of course ;-) Anyhow, she and I really connected and one thing she told me was that most of the women she’s met who’s come out to UCQ have some hideously traumatic breakup story that preceded their departure for the Middle East. Hah! So I’m not the only one. Good to know.

She also told me that even after being here for 3 years, she has very little insight into the lives of Qatari women. Although they’re definitely not meek, it’s a totally closed society, one whose people don’t mingle with the expats that outnumber them. I’ve learned (from CJ and Joanne) that women here are steadfast about removing all body hair, often wear trashy clothes under their niqabs or abayas, often have vitamin D deficiencies (!), and I certainly don’t need anyone to point out that many of them may as well have their mobile phones surgically attached to their ears. Hah! My students are in for one hell of a rude awakening in their first class with me tomorrow. I’ve indicated in the course outline that texting or otherwise using their phones during class is prohibited and I will ask them to leave if they do so, not to mention that they must arrive on time (apparently they tend to prance in whenever they please – as my hundreds of previous students I TA’d discovered, I’m a super enthusiastic teacher when it comes to bio and I’m fun, but I’m a total hardass when it comes to following class norms and performance on assignments and exams).

CJ also told me that she’ll take me in late June to go sea hawksbill sea turtles hatching off a Qatari beach. All I can say is if that actually pans out, I’ll just about die. Before I even started my Master’s, I went and did a tropical ecology course in Barbados, did a mini-project on sea turtles and got to see a female covering up her clutch of eggs in the middle of the night and then lumbering off to sea, which totally made me and many other students cry. I said at that time that I would give anything to study sea turtles. I said the same thing when Paul and I were in Hawaii and green sea turtles were swimming all around us and I had tears pouring down my face, which totally didn’t surprise him because he knew how I always get emotional when it comes to wildlife spectacles (man, you should have seen me when I captured a female bat with her pup attached to her, or heard me squealing and crying the first time I saw a Townsend big-eared bat). Anyhow, to see a new generation of a highly endangered population (Qatar has lost >80% of its sea turtles) go off to sea would be a highlight of my life.

Oh yeah, I was talking about jetlag. See? I just had another Doha moment. Well, I did actually get off quite lucky. That was my only foggy day. I managed (with tremendous difficulty) not to nap that day and got about 6.5 hrs of sleep that night (Thursday), slightly more Friday night and last night I slept from 00h00 to 7h15. I feel pretty good, hungry at roughly the right times, etc.

Getting used to my life here. I cook now in my apartment, I’ve been practicing guitar, and I even have a ritual: I go up on the roof every day at sunset (but not  today because I was too busy prepping for my first lecture tomorrow – and man oh man, am I ever nervous) to hear all the mullahs doing the call to evening prayers. There are so many mosques – the singing seems to come from everywhere. Haunting, beautiful, spiritual and moving.

And I’m really getting to know Abdullah, who’s an extremely nice, honest and intelligent person. I totally love him and he said he’d drive for me my second month and work out a private arrangement with me so it doesn’t end up costing me 5 200,00 riyhals (= approx. 1 600,00 CDN). His living situation (like that of many migrant workers): he shares a 7 bedroom place with 9 other men, and in the bldg, there’s a total of 4 bathrooms for 46 men. Oh my God. The next time I feel like complaining about cramped quarters or my living situation, I’ll remember that. He totally freaked when I told him what it costs me to rent my house in Calgary, because it’s about 3 times more expensive to rent something equivalent here in Doha. Back in Kerala, he has a 3 bedroom house, with 3 bathrooms for just himself, his wife and 2 kids. I’m quite honestly having a very hard time dealing with the ostentatious display of wealth by the Qataris. Plus, I’ve seen how many of the women treat their drivers, which Abdullah basically confirmed for me. Basically, they barely talk to their drivers – treat them like they’re not of the same caliber of human being – so contrary to my view of people. Abdullah says he loves driving for UCQ people and finds Canadians to be the nicest people – no sense that we’re the boss and he’s “just” the driver. I don’t know – I mean here is a 55-year old man, who’s been away from his children most of their life, just to try and give his family what they need – how can you not respect that?

Hmmm, I gotta go get ready for bed, but I’ll update again within the next few days. BTW: it’s bloody hot as hell here (in the high 30’s to low 40’s) and it’s bound to get into the 50’s within the next couple of weeks. My hair is already completely hideous, puffy, frizzy. I was the only idiot yesterday walking to the grocery store – no one actually walks around here. In fact, exercise is only just starting to become commonplace – traditionally being fat is desirable – a sign of wealth.

Missing Canada, my family, my boyfriend, my bird and my friends, but adjusting.

Oh, and I can count to ten, say please, thank you, you’re welcome, sorry in Arabic.

Much love and peace from (and to) the middle east, J

Day 2 – 03 may 2011

Dinner last night at the Four Seasons was super fantastic. Middle Eastern buffet. Fatoush salad was the best I’ve ever had, but hummus and tabbouleh, though excellent, still weren’t as good as mine or my mom’s. Middle Eastern desserts are super yummy (duh!). Went for a long walk to take photos of Doha at night, trying to cross the roundabouts unscathed was an exercise in survival. Oh, and pretty much only men drive here and just about every one of them honked at me/yelled/whistled out the window. Mental note to self: even if the front desk tells me I’m dressed appropriately, err on the side of caution. Hmmm, maybe the fact that one of the guys at the front desk practically begged me to come back, offered to take me out for Middle Eastern cuisine should have tipped me off. But no, I’m an idiot that way. So men here definitely do more than glance, but they seem pretty harmless.

My driver, Abdullah, is from Kerala, India. He’s been here 4 years, left behind his wife, 16-yr old daughter and 14-yr old son. He’ll go home in july for the 1^st time. Why did he come? Because the unemployment rate in his village is 95%. He pointed out a restaurant to me and suggested it. I asked how he liked the food. He said he’d never been because dinner would cost him a month’s salary. My waiter at dinner, was Jeff, from Nakuru, Kenya. His dad’s the head warden of Masai Mara Reserve. He’s been here 3 yrs, before that was in Riyadh. Two men who left behind their families to try and make a better life.

Breakfast was a buffet akin to what’s on offer at the Banff Springs Sunday brunch, only middle eastern. Ate a weird fruit called dragon fruit. Carrot-zucchini muffins were to die for. Charmed the chef (French guy named Loic) into giving me the recipe. Score!

Left the opulence of the Four Seasons and moved into my apartment, only to find a small flood on the floor of the powder room. The apartment has zero natural light, the microwave beeps randomly (so I have to unplug it when I’m not using it), shower is more like a trickle, big cracks in walls. The weirdest thing is that this building was only built 4 yrs ago and yet in many ways it’s falling apart. But that’s how it is in Qatar. Buildings go up like gangbusters – never have I seen this much construction – and workmanship suffers. Not to mention that things just aren’t built to last in the desert. No  bloody clue how to use the washing machine – the instruction manual explains everything except how to start it, and instead the control panel is a jumble of cryptic symbols and letters (what the hell is a blossom supposed to mean? And how is cycle A different from cycle B, C, D?).

I have a UCQ buddy. Her name is Joanne Divine (gotta love that). Her role is to help me transition into Qatari life. She’s really nice, arranged to go out for dinner with me, following consumption of contraband alcohol in Leslie’s apartment. But the best part about her is that when I arrived at my apartment after spending a small fortune on very unfamiliar groceries (which by the way was a total adventure), I felt totally overwhelmed, discombobulated and alone. This after blowing the fuse on my voltage converter immediately upon plugging in my North American power bar – that was a mistake. Oh, and I realized I left the battery for my SLR camera in the charger, plugged in at home. Tried to replace it, but it would actually be cheaper to have Erin (my lovely housesitter and awesome friend) mail it to me. Anyway, Joanne phoned me and immediately heard in my voice that I was a little freaked out and told me to come right over (she’s down the corridor). I walked in her apartment and she gave me a great big hug. We spent the whole evening together, lots of laughs, especially at a very strange sounding menu item (see photo) at a restaurant that also offers “massages”. Hmmm. She’s 55, been here since UCQ campus opened in 2007, has traveled all over, most recently to Nepal and Bhutan last month. Very cool lady. I feel quite a bit better, like I have a friend, someone who realizes how totally foreign this all is and how scary it can be at first.

Some of the things I’ve gathered so far. Don’t cross the road like you’re in Calgary. Pretend you’re in Montreal, you’ll be just fine. Roundabouts everywhere, watch out for drivers who suddenly decide to take to the sidewalks. Never seen so many cell phone stores – I don’t get it – is there a shortage or something? Oh, and Abdullah, my driver, says to me: “when I arrive, I’ll miscall you”. What that means is people here just let the mobile phone ring once to avoid paying charges and they use that as a kind of code. Funny – the best part is I’ve started doing it too. These are the filthiest rich people I’ve ever seen. I bet when they go to the bathroom, they poo money. Few women drive, but the only Qatari woman I saw driving today was in a pink hummer. Hah! Per capita pollution is higher in Qatar than anywhere else in the world. Today I saw an Aston Martin, a few Porshes, God knows how many BMWs and Mercedes, numerous Range Rovers. You get the idea. Consume, consume, consume. No recycling, but more unnecessary packaging than I’ve ever seen. The Qataris are like ghosts – the black ghosts are the women and the white ghosts are the men. Most Qatari women seem to wear the niqab (black ghostlike robe head to toe, with slits or even cut out circle things for the eyes) but some wear the abaya (face showing), in particular the Malaysian women. Most of the population (around a million) is expats, mainly from India and the Philippines. Qataris seem to have quite the sense of entitlement. Case in point: we went to a takeaway shop after dinner, and people drive up and honk their horns and get extremely impatient if they don’t get served immediately. Man oh man, makes us Canadians look even more overly polite. Some of the rules: don’t sit with the soles of your feet pointing toward your host, don’t eat with your left hand, no alcohol, no pork, if you run a red light, the fine is 10 000,00 QR (approx. 3 000,00 $ CDN), forbidden items to mail to Qatar include greeting cards with chimes (WTF?). Oh, and a tattooed girl certainly attracts a lot of attention.

Tomorrow I go to the campus, meet some people, get my office, etc., basically get myself set up. I’m hoping this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach goes away, and that’s it’s just homesickness and not something more icky. Oh, and you can’t drink the tap water here, but nobody can tell me why not. Basically, this is going to be a true test of my adaptability. I mean, lord knows I’ve rolled with some major punches this past year and proved myself to be quite the weeble – let’s just hope I continue to go with the flow, inshallah (that means God willing - I'm learning some Arabic from Abdullah).

Day 1 – 02-may-2011

OK, first time blogging couldn’t be any weirder. I guess because I'm in an arab country, the typing window goes from the right instead of the left and when you type any punctuation mark, it initially appears at the beginning of the text. So I think I’m going to use word instead.

Air Canada rocks. I mean I’m moving for 2 months, so I need a whole lot of stuff, including some food and (duh!) my guitar. So the guy at the YYC counter yesterday starts giving me shit about how they’re not a moving company. That was especially appreciated given I was pretty much on the verge of tears already. He weighs each of my 2 suitcases and tells me they’re overweight but I can reorganize the stuff and not pay the overweight fee. But they won’t let my guitar come as carry-on like strollers (which is how Westjet did it last time) and it’ll cost 225,00 $ to bring it. Okay, I figure, and I get to repacking my suitcases, watching the line get longer and longer. But when it’s my turn again, the next guy I deal with is super awesome and when he sends me to the cashier, she totally didn’t charge me (and I didn’t even have to make good on my offer to play her a song badly).

Saying “so long” to my guitar while praying it makes it in one piece was hard, but not nearly as hard as saying “so long” to Greg. I couldn’t stop looking at him (and yes, I do realize we spend an awful lot of time staring at each other, sorry to those of you we’ve slightly nauseated). I’m not liking the thought of going 2 months without seeing or touching him, and I bawled as I walked away to go through security.

In the Frankfurt airport, I thanked god for my broken German. It allowed me to determine that there’s no way at all to get a coffee/cappuccino/latte made with lactose-free milk. I bought myself a small salad, a bottle of OJ (what else is new?) and a kickass chocolate bar (German brand called Lauenstein, it was a ginger-lime dark chocolate). All for the low, low price of 17,00 $ CDN.

The Lufthansa flight stopped in Riyadh to refuel and let off passengers and I prayed my guitar wasn’t one of the departing guests. It wasn’t. But I did get my 1^st glimpse of the desert, though at night, so I didn’t see much. I might add that this was the largest plane I’d ever been on; double-decker with seat pattern 2-4-2. The flight to Frankfurt (Air Canada) was jam-packed, but the Lufthansa flight wasn’t, so I got a row to myself. I took a half a sleeping pill (with OJ, of course) and conked out for 4 hrs en route to Frankfurt. Slept another 2 hrs on the 2^nd flight. Got to my room, downed a whole sleeping pill and went to bed around 00h30, and didn’t wake up until 12h10. I feel fantastic. No jetlag at all – man I love good drugs.

At the airport in Doha, they whisked me away to this executive lounge, a fairy tale place with comfy chairs, where the VIPs sit and enjoy cold bottled water (you can’t drink the water here) and little middle eastern treats while the rest of the travelers stand in a never-ending lineup. Ate a date for the first time ever – what the hell have I been afraid of? They’re delicious! Watching through the window of the lounge, I saw a woman with her husband and their two little kids, of maybe 2 and 4 yrs old. They were just being kids, you know, running around a bit and at one point, they almost ran out of the airport. One of the workers grabbed them so they didn’t get out. The mother came over, grabbed them both by the upper arm, dragged them over to where her husband was and literally threw them down on the chairs. Oh man, you could never get away with that in Canada. I realized at that moment that there will be a whole lot of things I’ll not understand or that I’ll disagree with but that I’ll have to keep my trap shut.

Today I sit in my fluffy hotel bathrobe, after eating the muffin I brought with me (cuz muffins from room service cost 10,00 $ CDN) and drinking 2 cups of espresso from the high-tech machine they provide in the room. My driver, Abdullah (yes, that’s right, I have a driver), will come and get me at 16h30 and bring me to my apartment so I can check it out. Until then, I plan to throw on my teeny weeny string bikini and spend the afternoon chilling on the beach, reading a novel and pretending that I’m one of the fortunate few who can actually afford to stay in this hotel. I still haven’t experienced the crushing heat and humidity, as I arrived late at night, but I’m totally ready for my afro.

OK, just previewed this and man, the punctuation is weird. Sorry.