Banking

   You're buying a car, you've got money in your bank account, so it's an easy process to get a cheque made out and pay the person for the car.

   Not in Doha it isn't!

   Imagine this:

   Me : I'd like a cheque please for 90000 Rials.

   Them : Have you got a cheque book

    Me : No.

    Them : That'll take a week for you to get the cheque book

    Me : I only want one cheque

    Them : Get a book.

    Me : I want a cheque now please.

    Them : We can't make cheques here. Go to City centre branch, they have a cheque book printing machine there.

     Three hours later finds me at the city centre branch, where after putting my card in the ATM like cheque book machine, I find it spits out a message "Unable to do this action at this time, please see your branch".  I do. They tell me I can try the West Bay branch, or get a cheque from the counter.  I remember my morning encounter, so I drive to the West Bay branch.  As luck would have it, the West Bay branch cheque book printing machine said "No".  Well not really, but that was the substance of the words.  The West Bay branch is closed, so I return to the city centre branch.  I go to the counter, having sat on a very nice leather seat while I waited to get served, observing people with bulging A4 envelopes leaving and arriving.  

    Me : I'd like a cheque please for 90000 Rials.  

    Them : Have you got a cheque book.

    Me : No - I just want one cheque.

    Them : Oh.

    Me : I need to buy a car.  Can I please have one cheque for 90000 Rials.

    Them : Ok.

    And that was how I ended up leaving the branch with 90000 Rials in bank notes tucked into a bulging A5 envelope, and paying for a car in cash.

It rained!

   In all the time we've been here - it's not rained.  Not a s-i-n-g-l-e drop.

   So last night, unbeknownst to us, it drizzled.  Apparently this is the first rain since November (and November through to March is the rainy part of the year).

   I asked someone a while ago - when it rains here - what's it like.  They made two comments - that when it rains here - it really rains.  Clearly last night didn't fit in with that rule.  And that when it rains, everything looks so sparkly and clean - for a day or two.

    So I present you with last nights evidence that the person I spoke to was lying.

     That car is a very nice gloss red.  You wouldn't know that - because it's looking like someone has taken it to the local children's kindergarten and let the kids spent all day throwing very fine sand at it.

    The other thing to note is the layer of sand on the ground. This isn't left over sand after the builders have finished paving - that's sand that has flown in - probably over the space of a week.  Our door mat ends up with a fine layer of grey dust around it's edges 2 days after cleaning it. Our front door ends up with a fine layer of dust on any nook or cranny in it's surface. Too summarise - dust is everywhere the whole time.

   The local response to the fact glossy car paint finishes  show the dirt ten seconds after the latest car wash is instructive - some of them get their very nice, very snazzy cars painted in matte finishes.  Doesn't show the dirt - but gee it ages the car!

Qatar Ladies Open Tennis

   AGirlInDoha likes tennis.  I can't say she is a massive sports fan, although she indulges me by watching some sport with me.  Just privately, I think it's so she can check out the good looking sportsmen, but anyway, that's just a private thought. That said, she loves watching tennis and felt cheated to miss her annual grand slam pilgrimage.

   However, last week was the Qatar ladies open, and by good fortune I got offered free tickets.  Upon a quick check back home, I snaffled them up, and made it be known that any other spare free tickets would be gratefully received.   This paid off in spades, as in no short order I had tickets for 3 of the 7 tennis sessions.

   Our first session was on the first day, so after scoping out the venue and 3 outside courts we watched some matches, eventually ending up about 10 metres away from the court - close by grand slam viewing standards.

    However, our second visit resulted in the jackpot.  While waiting for me outside the venue, AGirlInDoha and her friend was approached by a mysterious man - "Would you like VIP tickets?" They explained they were waiting for their husbands, however he was not to be turned down and within seconds of entering we were following him through a maze into centre court.  While waiting for a break in play, our mysterious man got waved at by another man, complete with security earpiece and dressed in a thobe. He shook his head, and waved at us. Our hearts sank, maybe the offer wasn't on.  We got dragged behind the scenes on centre court again, this time coming to a different entrance.  Finally, play broke.  The man in a thobe called us over and told us to follow him.  We did, down steps, down more steps. Our eyes widened, the court got closer.  We were at court level - and he pointed to the private box, diagonally behind the server.  "Sit here" we were told.  We did.

   Very quickly, we realised why we'd been selected - this was the box which was framed on every second serve by the TV camera.  They needed the box to look full, and needed some beautiful people to do this.  Hence why AGirlInDoha and her friend - both looking decidedly full of western glamour - were selected.

    Text messages started arriving - one from a friend who fell off the treadmill while in his gym, startled by seeing us sitting in the front row box on the TV in front of him.

   However, the highlight of my night was still to come.  Players were introduced off court, and walked out from the corner, directly past us.  On one introduction, to one of my favourite players, I quietly called out to her, wishing her the best of luck.  As she walked, she turned, clearly having heard me.  And smiled - clearly feeling a touch of home.  A small moment perhaps, but unexpected and individual.

   After she won we were obliged to watch her the next day.  Upon winning the next day (after more than a few encouraging calls from our perch somewhat higher in the stand) - she left the court, giving me a thumbs up.

   So I don't think AGirlInDoha is feeling as mad about missing her grand slam fix as she otherwise would.

Normality

   In recent weeks we've noticed times when you have no idea you're in a foreign country with a different culture.  We've been eating, chatting, shopping - lots of different places, and we may as well be at home for all you notice of being in a foreign country.  This might be a good thing, I'm not sure.

   There are other times that you most definitely do notice you're in a foreign country (and I don't mean when you're having a meal out and fancy a drink!)  One of those "I'm in a very foreign country and just have to roll with it" moments happened when we registered our car at the traffic department.

    Maybe I've been insulated by my work sponsors in my other dealings with government bureaucracy, but I haven't really had to deal with processes and people quite like the traffic department before.   You know this place is going to be intense based on the number of Arabic speakers who congregate loosely outside the office, bidding to help you with your business inside - for the appropriate payment.  Fortunately to date I haven't required one, as my work kind of guides me through these sort of processes.


   Once inside the buildings your next encounter with officialdom is the very burly gentlemen in official uniform who checks your documents and provides you with a queue number.  I have no idea what their uniform represents (police?) but their whole demeanour is very authoritarian, and they clearly don't take schmick from anybody.  


    Having joined the queue, you wait. And wait.  For pleasant reading there is a news rack with various paperback books.  The Koran (in Arabic), a book discussing "The True Life of Jesus" (which is in English) was my choice.  This book sets out to discuss the old and new testament and present a case for how the bible is not entirely based on fact.  As a compulsive reader of anything - and bored by the wait, this was my choice.  


    Unlike the usual multi cultural nature of Doha - I'd estimate 70% of the people waiting in the traffic department are males wearing the traditional white robe - a thobe.  This draws your attention to the fact "You're not in Kansas any more".


    Eventually your number comes up and you find your way along the 80 metre long counter to the right staff member - hopefully before the staff member requests the next number is called (we only had a small argument about that).  Of the 30 counters, only 5 are staffed, all with ladies dressed in an Abaya.  The lady behind the counter; eyes only on display; looks at your documents, and then throws them back to you "This document must be in Arabic".  Fortunately it was  the sellers document.  How his "fixer" - who he picked up outside the building - didn't know this I have no idea.


     So the next day, we repeat the same process, this time sans seller fixer, and with a bank clearance letter in Arabic.   Having negotiated an equally scary, equally authoritarian uniformed man we wait for our turn. Another wait, some more reading of "The ture life of Jesus" (sic - yes that was the label on the side of the spine).  Another lady dressed in an Abaya calls us over - we hand over insurance documents, transfer documents, bank clearance documents, ID cards, registration card, photocopies of ID cards.  Every document is in Arabic.  She tells us to sit.  We sit.  After a further wait, we're presented with a plastic card, with my name on it.  I've now paid a significant amount of money and am the proud owner of a plastic card with some Arabic writing on it.

    So to summarise, I believe we own a car, but maybe I've just got a specially printed card from a mysterious lady.

Doha Food Festival

   I like my food. AGirlInDoha likes her food too.  So last weekend, when the Doha food festival was on, we took ourselves down there to try out the delectable treats.  For those who've been to a "Taste Of"type festival - imagine one of those, but with a lot of the food being offered by the local five star hotels.  On top of that, there seemed to be a few regional restaurants offering different regional cuisines and some cafes and bakeries offering their wares.  Dishes ranged from 5 Rials to 15 Rials or about ($US1.50 - $US4)

    So here's some of our favourite dishes. (apologies for camera quality - was just our phone).

Peshwari Chicken

   This came from one of the local hotels - the Ramada from memory - and had some really good flavours.  I'm not sure what the green substance was that the chicken had been basted in, but I'd have this again in a heartbeat.  Yummo.

Octopus - Movenpick

   Another 5 star hotel - The Movenpick - had this octopus dish.  While mash and lonely piece of roquette weren't much too look at, the octopus was quite possible the most tender piece of octopus I've ever eaten. Mr Octopus - giving up your life for my tastebuds was well worth it.

Grill - Pakistani Style

   Moving away from the Five Star hotel area we ran into some regional cuisine.  One of the big highlights for me was this Pakistani restaurant "Zaok" (?), which was grilling some lamb, beef & chicken on this grill.  Besides being of the best mobile grill contraptions I've ever seen, the lamb chops - at 5 Rials per chop - had been marinated and basted in brilliant zesty herbs and spices on them.  So good that AGirlInDoha and I devoured 4 chops.  The other remarkable thing about this stall (besides the abject lack of process in ordering and receiving your food) was the chef.  The grill was pumping out serious amounts of heat from the charcoal.  I was standing more than  a metre away and roasting in the heat (let alone inhaling the wonderful flavours), but the chef was standing next to the grill (hands seen above), and turning the metals skewers bare handed.  Asbestos fingers or burnt his hands so much that his nerves had stopped working?

    I've mentioned before how multicultural Qatar is.  I bet none of you have been to an Albanian / Lebanese fusion restaurant though - have you?  The photo doesn't do justice to the flavours. Proof good food can get away with simple sides.

    With a lot of the immigrant population being Indian - there should be lots of good Indian food around - and this tandoori chicken definitely fitted in that category.  

Seating - Diplomatic Club

   One of the things that distinguished this event from "Taste Of" type festivals was the seating - each exhibitor brought along their own themed seating areas, some quite elaborate. 

    Why bring a seat when you can bring a marquee, carpets and couches.  True Middle Eastern hospitality.

    So what was the conclusion after our 4 hours spent at the food festival?  We were very happy, very full and felt a lot more at home.

Bulk - It's not our fault.

  The fascinating thing about moving to a new country is visiting the supermarket.  What will they have, what won't they have?  What does the local diet comprise of?  My time in Doha has revealed just about every country is represented in the supermarket from Australian carrots, Belgian biscuits, Chilean apples, Dutch capsicum, and Egyptian beef.

   But it's not just the variety of foods which capture your imagination - it's the size of the supermarket sections. Go to a French supermarket and the cheese aisle would be 20 times the length of the personal hygiene aisle.  And the cheese isn't sold in 100gram little containers, you buy a wedge of cheese right through the the whole wheel.  You've got the mass produced and artisan.  You've got regional and sub regional, and then the sub, sub regional right next to Pierre & fils house.

    So what's big on Doha supermarkets?  Rice & red onions are probably two of the biggest movers, but the aisle which mirrors the French cheese aisle?  It's the spice aisle. Whereas a supermarket with a good range of herbs & spices in my home country may take have up 4 metres of floor space for their range - the herbs and spices here take up 20 metres of floors space - from top to bottom, 6-7 shelves, stacked with herbs and spices in various forms.  That's before you go the bulk good section of the supermarket - another 20+ metres of space, where you buy herbs & spices in bulk quantities straight form hessian sacks.

   The problem with all this?  I'm used to herbs and spices costing a fair amount of money for a little 25-50 gram jar.   Here?  200 grams minimum.

 (Can is for size reference).

   I'm thinking of starting a herb & spice exchange in the compound - I've got 400 bay leaves, 100grams of cinammon, 150 grams of nutmeg & 200 grams of thyme to exchange.  Looking for paprika, all spice....

    

Bulk

  Many of you were the beneficiaries of our departure.  Our left over household goods saved you from going shopping for a few weeks.  You know that we like to stock up as well as buy in bulk. (Ahem, how many packets of Finish powerball dish washing tablets did we give away? 7-8-9?).

   I suspect we haven't learnt our lesson - when looking for a hand soap bottle to refill, we could only come across this one.

   In hindsight, 4 litres of hand soap is probably a little bit too much.

   Got to go, have to wash my hands.

Ambition

   Ambition is treated differently in different parts of the world. In the US, publically proclaiming your ambitions (and success) is celebrated. In some Asian cultures, ambition is internally valued, but externally considered to be vulgar.  I don't yet understand how ambition fits into Qatari culture, but I do understand this country is very ambitious.

   The Qatar foundation is a non government foundation; setup by the current Emir; has the aim to "support Qatar on its journey from a carbon economy to a knowledge economy by unlocking human potential". It does this via a much heralded "3 pillars" - education, science & research and community development. It's pouring a lot of money into many different things, including becoming Barcelona FC's first ever shirt sponsor for €150 million.  I'm not sure which pillar this sponsorship fits under.

   This countries ambitions also translate into the local companies culture.  Not just does an organisation want to be good at what it's doing, many have stated goals to be the best in their field, or in the top 20 globally in their industry.  I'm sure we all noticed the successful 2022 world cup bid, while I've been past the 2020 Olympic bid building - just a lazy 25 stories full of people eagerly working away to help Qatar host the 2020 Olympics.

   With all this in mind, I wasn't at all surprised when it was revealed on the weekend that Qatar had just paid the world record price for a piece of art of $250 million for a Cézanne painting "The Card Players".  Apparently it will sit in one of the three new / near new world class galleries which are (being) built in Doha.

   The two fascinating things about this is that firstly the painting shows some gentlemen playing cards while drinking and smoking.  Maybe I was misinformed, but I was explicitly told to not bring playing cards into Qatar, while alcohol obviously doesn't fit in with the local custom.  Clearly paintings of such are not!  The second fascinating thing was according to many media reports, the painting was purchased by the Emirs 28 year old daughter.

   I'm not convinced that I'd let my 28 year old nephew out to buy art worth $250, let alone $250 million, but clearly I'm not as ambitious as some.

Pork

   I admit it - I like my pork. Pork chops, pork roast, pork belly, bacon, ham, salami, prosciutto, pork sausages, pork medallions.  (Blogger pauses, mops saliva from keyboard).  Before I came here, myself and my wonderful wife tried to overdose on pork. We failed.

    Now that I think it, maybe those memories & dreams of pork must be the reason why my lovely wife has been dribbling on her pillow; not the minor cold she's had lingering for a week.

    We've tried the beef sausages here - and they're pretty good.  In fact, some might even be better then the beef sausages I get back home.  But they're not pork!  And I've long since given up on the two words which should not appear next to each other - beef bacon, otherwise known as the bits of leather which were left over after they'd finished making shoes.

     So after some weeks of remembering pork in all its forms, we were heartened to hear rumours that it existed in this country.  Whispers which we most eagerly chased up.  So after we quietly spoke to a person who knew a person who knew a person who lived around the corner from someone else who had once smelt a pig - we found this....

   Unfortunately it would appear that pork chops, pork roast, pork belly and pork medallions might be off the agenda, but hey - we've got proper bacon & as someone I know would say "Right proper English sausages".

   Any guesses what's on the menu for the weekend? 

Weather

   When you tell people you're coming to a place like Doha, people think "hot, hot hot". After some seconds they think "Dry, dry, dry".  I thought the same thing.  When packing, I looked at the winter weather and thought "21-24 degrees - warmish".  I packed accordingly.

   And I was wrong.  I've been cold, cold cold since I got here.  Normally if you told me I'd be getting low 20 degree sunny days in winter I'd be rubbing my hands together thinking how lovely they are.  Here; oddly; I find the days pretty chilly.  I didn't pack a jacket other than a rain jacket. I've got two tops, one blazer and a couple suit jackets.  And 4 useless short sleeze casual shirts and 0 long sleeve casual shirts. Zero, none, nada.

    I'm begging for that container load of personal effects to get here more quickly.  But I bet it'll be hot, hot, hot , dry, dry, dry by the time it gets here!

   The other aspect I hadn't really thought or heard much about was the wind.  In late January the wind sprung up on the weekends - and besides blowing around some unpleasant sand, it was up there with Antarctic katabatic winds chilly.  When you were out in the wind - you froze.  Over the last few days the wind has been flying in again - it's not as chilly, but my good it's stirred up the sand.  Suddenly we've gone from bright sunny days to brown/white featureless days where you can barely make out features 100metres in front of you.  Fantastic for the women who've just arrived to cycle the Tour of Qatar - I'm not volunteering to clean their bike chains!

    Supposedly the sandstorms get worse - much worse. I've been told 10 metre visibility is on the cards for mid summer.

    Weather - so easy to write about!