On hijabs and shimaghs

Another few weeks have flown by and we are still absorbing new experiences, and slowly becoming familiar with local customs, culture and locales. We have become quite accustomed to a different way of life, and at present are just trying to absorb as much of it as we can. It is has been positive all round and one that we are quite happy to continue.

Mingling with a myriad of world ethnicity is a daily occurrence. A good proportion of the population, both Qataris and Asians, favour traditional dress. The men look so smart and pristine in their long white dishdashas; wearing predominantly white, but also a smattering of red, and occasionaly black shimaghs or ghuttras(head scarves), held in place by the long black tassles of the egal, and underneath all that the white prayer cap, called a kufi.   The fabric looks to be very expensive - the thread count and silk content is visibly top quality.  The collars are of both mandarin and the usual dress shirt type.  The sleeves are invariable French cuff with cufflinks sparkling alongside diamond encrusted Rolex watches.   The men have raised the adjustment of the shimagh to an art form - flicking the flowing sides of the shimagh back over their shoulders, or throwing it over their heads; something like young women do with their long tresses. And they look so comfortable in their billowing, airy robes and sandals - not for them the heavy shoes, belts and ties worn by the Europeans and Americans here. It is obvious that they are very proud of their national dress - walking with chests jutting, spines straight and a determined step forward.  No matter what - they always seem to look proud, strong and confident.

There are many women who wear the black abaya and hijab; some with only eyes visible, others with no head gear at all. What I have noticed is that each outfit is quite uniquely stitched with tiny sparkling stones, or beadwork, or embroidery. When the wind blows, one can often see the clothing underneath - often it is high heels peeping out, and designer wear, with quite spectacular costume jewellry; whereas others opt for comfort wear - the abaya can hide a multitude of sins, which would be quite attractive to me.

It is always interesting to people watch - on a sidewalk, at Al-Corniche, a souq, a mall or in an airplane, and to see a mass of uniformly dressed individuals going about their business in an everyday manner, just like the rest of world.

Monday morning outing

Today, I spent the morning with the ladies from American Women's Association. We herded ourselves into vehicles and drove in convoy to three obscure, hard-to-find, but must-see places for ex-pats in Doha. The first stop was the Oriental Carpet Company which felt like stepping into Aladdin's Cave - beautiful carpets everywhere; all sizes and all types: silk and wool in the most intricate designs and fabulous colours, delicate and fine. Just unimaginable artistry. Brushing my hands over the weave was like stroking satin. Too many to choose from and I will have to go back to stand in awe of them once again. However, that wasn't all - there was silverwork, cushions, cloths, quilts, jewellry, and hand wrought lamps, jewellry boxes and candle holders. "I will be back".

Next on our list was Ghassan's, most notably recognized by the solid iron green doors, as there certainly was no sign to be seen. Pushing our way in, we came upon another veritable treasure chest of wooden furniture, and interesting artifacts hidden in dark and wondrous corners of a maze of a house.

Last stop was Al Rawnaq's - the smorgasbord of dollar stores where anything can be bought (except not for a dollar) - it will certainly come in useful as we try to stock our ex-pat kitchen.

We landed back at our meeting point at the Dairy Queen at Ramada signal where we were all disappointed to discover that there was no ice cream to be had in any shape or form. Unfortunately, this is not an unusual refrain in Doha, as just about everything is imported and often out of stock...so when you see something from home you grab and run, as it may not be there next time, and who knows when you will see it again.

Off to the camel races.

What an event to witness - to the uninitiated such as myself, the thoughts preceding were in the line of "ho-hum, so what's the difference between horses and camels, really?" As we sat waiting in the air-conditioned bus, I was thankful not to be in the stands in the 45 degree celsius heat, but somewhat impatient as I thought I was going to miss out on a decent viewing of the race. Imagine my surprise when the bus finally accelerated forward, to join a convoy of 4x4's five deep and about 50 strong. The phalanx of vehicles began, with much honking of horns, to follow the camels around the track - both on the inside and outside of animals - who merrily loped and swayed along oblivious to the whooping, hooting, engine revving, dust-making conflagration enthusiastically following in their wake.

No rules on interference here - if you are lucky enough to have your particular camel on the outside edge then you can haul yourself out of the window, or open a car door (whilst in full pursuit) and exhort and cajole your animal to speed up. If all else fails, use a big, long stick to further motivate him..or her (I don't know - are all racing camels males?). After racing 8 kms for approximately 12 minutes, the camels arrive, panting and frothing, at the final 100 metre dash. At which point, the little robot jockey (looking so much like a monkey on the back) begins to whirl his crop with the energy of miniature helicopter blades. However, it appears to be a hit-and-miss affair, as some of the camels lurch forward even faster on the command, whereas others slow down to a recalcitrant trot. At times, the jockey's crop, which is controlled remotely, misses the camel altogether depending on the arc of the swing, or due to some malfunction it sticks, and refuses to budge at all.

The winners circle is a venue of great delight and celebration. Each camel is surrounded by a multitude of handlers and owners and the first order of business is to smear the head and face of the camel with saffron, which the camel tries to avoid at all costs. Most of the saffron workers were covered in more of the orange matter themselves than they managed to wipe on the unsuspecting and unappreciative camel.

The most compelling view of the whole race is the start - the camels are hauled up to stand in a ragged line up at the starter's whip. They are held by a length of rope by a handler, who acts as the gate. There are at least 12 to 20 camels per race, and each handler must hold the camel in place by standing in front of the camel until the whip comes down, and the band of fabric is pulled up. At this point, these brave souls flee desperately from the forward charge of the racing 'steeds', narrowly avoiding the thunderous hooves, literally climbing over each other in their own race to the sides of the track in their haste to escape being trampled in the melee. The poor chaps in the middle group have the hardest time, and must be the fleetist of foot to avoid the prospect of becoming "camel fodder". It was then that the light bulb went off - so that's the reason for all those ambulances standing by - and perhaps also, for the inevitable car smashes that must occasionally occur around the track. Brave men, indeed!

Another great experience to write home about.

Bound for Bahrain

We have just returned to Doha after spending a very relaxing weekend in Bahrain. The trip was a requisite for remaining legal in Qatar, as our visitors visas were on the point of expiring and the fines are hefty if you don't comply. The company is busy trundling through the process of obtaining permanent work visas, but there are many hoops and obstacles to overcome first.

Onto Bahrain - a quick 30 minute flight into Manama, the capital city, and after much waiting and fanfare, into a rental car to the hotel just 4 kms away. An hour later, and many wrong turns, reversing, and speculation, we arrived at our destination. (Bahrain suffers from the same map and direction instructions syndrome as Qatar). The hotel is beautiful, comfortable and a great resort destination, although the food in the buffet restaurant left a bit to be desired.


We spent two days exploring the country - a very small island roughly 10 by 30 miles 'big'. We travelled south to the Tree of Life - an ancient mesquite tree that has survived in the middle of the desert. One has to wonder whether it will survive the 21st century social customs of spraypainting, and "let's see how many have to sit on this branch before it breaks". We visited Al-Areen Wildlife Park & Reserve and glimpsed our first views of indigenous Middle Eastern species, like the oryx. Not quite what we expected, as we were shuffled onto buses that sped around a track at a fast clip, allowing all of 30 seconds to view each species - enclosed behind fencing in compounds - felt like I was in the Mazda ad...."zoom, zoom".

We drove on the King Fahd Causeway, a 26km stretch of bridges and roads across a stretch of ocean that links Bahrain to Saudi Arabia. Loved the Bahrain Fort and all the picturesque mosques in Manama, and towns and villages around. The architecture is as amazing as it is in Qatar. I think that the current generation of designer architects have been given an opportunity to create cutting edge, unique edifices in modern times, much like designers and builders of palaces, monasteries, and churches had in the Renaissance, Byzantine eras, for example. The only question is, will these modern skyscraper structures stand the same tests of time?


We also took some time to amble about in the malls - I have to say that we were amazed and awed by the jewellrey. Diamonds in the 4 and 5 carot range, rings the size of small plums that probably hide three fingers, with between 20 and 30 stones, and nothing under half a carat. There were drop earring the size of toonies, and necklaces dripping in glitter. I stood in front of the displays in eyepopping wonder. One very nice gentleman asked if we would like to go inside and try some on - I didn't know whether to go weak at the knees or giggle with amusement...we thanked him and moved on.


A surprising thing was the exchange rate - 1 Bahrain Dinar is the equivalent of 9 Qatari riyals and 3 Canadian Dollars - needless to say we did not buy much.







But a great weekend and one we will treasure.

Spring in Doha

A bit of a misnomer, as the weather continues as before: temperatures between 24 and 31 on a regular basis. There have been a few rainstorms ( the last one being about 6mm worth and considered a veritable deluge, warranting photos and front page news in the Gulf Times). The rain provides a welcome relief as it settles the dust for a time, but hardly appears to make a dent in the relentless heat. I think the drivers have the hardest time in the rain - there are no storm sewers so the water sits in puddles and ponds in roads, that create huge water features as cars plough through them, and watch out if you are the unsuspecting pedestrian! A lot of drivers are unpracticed in the art of hydroplaning which causes some hair raising spectacles as well.

The dust storms are a conversation piece - not anything like I imagined - more like a fine mist or fog that rolls over the city, with the sun looking as if it is an eclipse. Leaving windows open at such times are guaranteed to cost you hours of effort - more like a clean-up after a drywall project. It seeps into the car while driving, making one reach compulsively for bottled water all the time. We are currently having the car washed every few days. We have the same black car that we were using in Calgary, the only difference in the dirt is that in Calgary it was due to gravel and wet snow build up, and here it is pockmarked with a liberal coating of desert sand.






Food has been an interesting commodity - just about everything is flown in: milk, eggs and yoghurt from Saudi or Egypt, fruit and vegetables from India, Turkey and Asia, meat from Australia and NZ, dry goods from Europe. Fish appears to be the only product that is local - although there is also plenty of international fish catches as well. The fresh produce market usually has a good variety to choose from and mostly fresh looking. The prices are substantial: I have seen tomatoes, broccoli, and cauliflowers for $7 per kg, one sweet potato of very medium size $2.50, cucumbers up to $3 or $4 dollars depending what you buy. Meat - if you stick to premium - will not cost under $20-25 per kg (and you will not! find real bacon anywhere!) I had the pleasure of buying about 1/2 kg of grapes for the terrifying price of $12. The one difficulty I have is that I have had to play Sherlock amongst the shelves and aisles, taking me back to our first months in Canada again - I know what I want, but the labels have all changed on me. Nonetheless, it has been easy to keep up with my usual cooking style, eating much the same as we did back home, albeit more expensively.

We are, unfortunately, inundated with the usual lineup of suspects in terms of restaurant choices - Chili's, MacD, DQ, Applebees, BK, Pizza Hut, TGIF's, and a food court here is essentially a carbon copy of a food court anywhere else. There are also plenty of good restaurants offering great fine dining experiences, but they are not cheap. However, we have found some great alternatives - sampling authentic meals at Middle Eastern locales. One lucky find was the Starbucks cafe just up the road from us - I had my first Doha latte - and didn't even blink at the $7 I anted up. (Can't always knock the home town favourites - they do come in useful sometimes.)

The most unusual phenomena is the exchange of money after a purchase - coins are a rarity and no store appears to have any, although I have seen an occasional 50 cent piece. Anyway, you approach the cashier who scans the product, and looks up with a smile and announces "that will QR103.55", at which time you hand over QR104, and keep your hand hovering for the 45 dirhams. She looks perplexed...and waves you on. One hopes that the law of averages works out, as I have found that the next time if it is 30 dirhams that I owe, the store has gracefully ignored the small matter of change.

Until next time,

Salaam and best wishes.