To Run Where the Brave Dare Not Go

In case you're wondering, this week's title is a line from "The Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha.  Back in the olden days when my brother Monte and I had a few (or more) drinks, he would sing the entire song with me accompanying him on piano.

This blogging thing encourages you to tell humiliating stories.  So now I've done it, and my political career is over...sort of like an Eliot Spitzer or Jack Johnson moment.

Anyway, it is the Eid-al-Adha in Muslim countries so thought I would tell you a bit about the holiday, the bravery it requires, and some brave things I've done recently.  There are two Eids, the first following the end of Ramadan, and this one in November, during which Muslims from around the world go to Mecca on pilgrimage, the Hajj.

This year, it's estimated that nearly 4,000,000 people pilgrimaged to Saudi Arabia, the highest number in history...a pretty amazing (and crowded) gathering.  In past years, hundreds of people have been trampled to death, buildings have collapsed, and political riots have ensued.  Yet every Muslim is required to make the pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in his/her lifetime.  Pretty brave.  And if you look closely enough, you'll see an ambulance right in the middle of this photo.

So speaking of brave, here are some brave things I've done recently in Qatar:

1. Drink instant coffee.  I don't know why, but everyone here drinks instant coffee at home.  You go to a cafe to get a cappuccino or espresso, but at home, it's instant.  So I start my morning with some Nestle's crystals in a cup.  Actually getting sort of used to it.  And yes, there are plenty of Starbucks and coffee shops.  So mid-afternoon, I sneak a real coffee.  Don't applaud me for it...it's part of my cultural assimilation.

2. Visit Red America.  With apologies to my conservative friends and relatives, I did this quite by accident when I went to church one weekend to try to meet other ex-pats from Takoma Park (not).  I knew there were two non-demoninational churches, and I knew the one that was evangelical so assumed I was picking the one that was like the Unitarian church at home.  It was close...Pentacostal. 

What's a girl to do?  The people there were really nice, and when in Rome...so I went right along with the whole service.  While I have attended a few Baptist revivals in my life, this was an entirely new experience that I won't describe in detail in a public blog.  Suffice it to say, if you have any doubt about the Tea Party, I can assure you it is alive and well in Qatar.

3. Shop at the Souq.  I was warned not to go to the Souq alone.  It can be very intimidating and most everyone gets lost at some point in all the winding little alleys.  So brave person that I am, I went on the day before the holiday began, right at closing time.  As the photos illustrate, it was nearly deserted, the Qatar souq is the safest and tamest in the entire Gulf region, and I didn't buy a thing.  The bottom photos shows a load of houkah pipes (sometimes called shisha here), lonely for someone to smoke them.

So there you have my feats of bravery over the past week or two.  Again, no applause, please.  This is just part of my great adventure.  Or, as Ethel Merman sang, "Life is just a bowl of cherries."

Next up:  Why Qatar should get the 2022 World Cup over the U.S. (I'm writing this one just for Bill.  It will be filled with many technical details about soccer.)

Spoiled Stranger in a Strange Land

This was the worst week yet in Qatar (okay, there have only been two).  In my defense, I had what felt like the worst cold in history, had no medicine and no car to get to a store if I could even figure out what kind of store sells cold medicine.  Sort of like in the olden days before CVS.

For the first week I was here, I stayed at a Swiss hotel.  Now they know how to take care of a guest...cappacino bar, jazz piano lounge, room service orders that arrive within 10 minutes, and everyone jumping up to help if you even sneeze (which I wasn't doing yet).

A week ago I moved into this apartment, and it's been downhill ever since. The first morning after I moved in, I fell off the arm of the couch (don't ask) and busted the back of my head.  Those of you who know me won't be surprised by this.  But I began to wonder, "If I die here on the floor with a brain injury, when will anyone miss me?" "If a tree falls in the forest..." began to take on new meaning.  I finally gathered myself up to take a shower...no hot water.  My hairdryer didn't work because of these danged adapters.  So I pathetically slunk off to work with a bad headache and wet hair. 
 



The next morning my electric water heater (for tea or coffee) didn't work.  The dishwasher is broken.  While I was nursing my cold and desperate for something to soothe my irritation, I realized most of the TV stations are in Arabic, and the English stations play programs like Ghost Whisperer and Beverly Hills Cop.  The US blocks Netflix and Hulu from being viewed outside the U.S. Do you folks not realize there are expats who want to watch TV?  Oh, and then my TV stopped working altogether.

One night I was so miserable that I decided to order carryout.  My order was declined because I didn't know where I live.  Can't they look it up on the reverse directory? 

And that brings us back to the taxi drivers who are mostly from India or the Philipines.  They can't speak English, and they don't know where I live either.  Yesterday I ventured out in a taxi (you have to make an appointment hours in advance for one to come to your apartment) to try to find cold medicine, and the driver got lost coming back to my apartment.  Isn't that what taxi drivers do? Know the roads and how to get to your house?

And what's with the Diet Coke label written in Arabic, for God's sake?

Well, I got hot water - there was a button I needed to turn on and didn't know. They repaired my TV, and the repairman gave me his personal cell in case I have any additional trouble.  A new friend suggested I buy an old-fashioned kettle rather than relying on the electricity to heat water.  The taxi drivers pick me up exactly at the time of my appointment, and I now know I need to make an appointment.  I found a pharmacy where the pharmacist actually selected the appropriate cold medicines off the shelf for me. 

And come to think of it, only one person has been less than lovely to me - an American woman who said, "I can't help you" when I was stranded and needed a ride home.  A very kind American family took me and even invited me to Thanksgiving.

Friday is the Sabbath here, and on Friday nights families take to the parks and megamalls like nobody's business.  I was walking through one of the megmalls last night, observing all the men and women in their traditional Arabic dress, when it occurred to me that Qatar had not been set up to make sure that English-speaking Americans are comfortable. It's probably set up to make Qataris comfortable.  I attribute the delayed "aha" moment to my cold and concussion.

Nevertheless, I was longing for something American last night.  I went to see the Jennifer Aniston/Jason Bateman movie "Switch."  Everyone who knows me knows that I'm no Jennifer Aniston fan.  It was one of the best movies I've ever seen.

PS  Some of you have said the Comment function on the blog page doesn't work.  It seems to work for some and not for others.  It may be that you need a Google or Yahoo email address for it to work.  I love hearing from you by email so if you have something to say or just want to tell me about what's happening back home, please email me!