Doha, Qatar
October 29, 2012
Altitude: 66'
The first time I went to Europe was in the summer of 1976. I was 27 and this would be the "dream trip" I'd wanted for along time. Despite all my preparation, I was ill-prepared for the reality of solo travel in France and beyond.
After I was dropped off at the airport, after I checked in, after my parents bid be Bon Voyage, after I cleared security, a surprising panic set in.
Two flights were leaving that evening for Paris. One left a mere thirty minutes befor mine. "God," I whispered, "Take that flight and meet me in France. With you on the ground before me I'll be OK."
He did meet me, and he did make smooth my travels. And to this day I still whisper that same prayer. OK, maybe not to Mexico, but certainly to new and "exotic" locales.
And that's what I did on the evening of October 29th. For whatever reason--fatigue from an 11 hour flight, entry into a new country (decidely foreign)--I was spooked.
I silently asked him to take the first shuttle bus that had just left the aircraft. When it stopped at the arrivals terminal, I was the only one got off. Everyone else was heading for a connecting flight. Once at Quatari immigration things were swift and I was at the hostel in no time.
Just after I arrived I meet Jolie, a woman about my age from Italy, on her way to Thailand who, like me, was using Doha as a stop over for a few days. We made plans to spend the next day and tour the city together.
Over breakfast, she struggled with English. Finally, she asked me "Parlez vous Francais?" "I'm sorry," I said, "Pero hablo Espanol." And so we were a team--and Italian and an American, using Spanish as the common language. All those studies have certainly paid off.
After breakfast we set off for Souk Waqif--a sprawling Middle Eastern shopping area whose roots date back centuries. The souk dates back to the 1700's and is one of the oldest in the Arabian Gulf. It's 60,000 square feet with more than 1,200 stores lined along winding lanes.
It was still early but heaps of Quataris were shopping. We just wandered, turning down one lane and be in an alley selling only men's Arab clothing--the al bish--the traditional white cloak and its headdress, the al qutra. When they wore this, only their eyes were exposed. Another lane only sold antiques, music or fabric.
At times the air was rich with the smell of frankincense, coffee mixed with the piercing smell of cardamon or the scents of Arab perfumes.
Qatari women, unlike their Saudi counterparts, shopped singly or in groups. All were dressed in the traditional darra'a--only their eyes exposed.
It was all, well...right out of Aladdin. I half expected a genie to appear at any moment or round a corner and find magic carpets for sale.
By mid afternoon we stopped for lunch. We had a wealth of choices--Iraqi, Lebanese, Moroccan, Syrian, Egyptian. Thankfully there wasn't a McDonald's in sight.
But there was more to Doha than this souk. Despite the heat--a humid 90 degrees--we grabbed a cab and spent the rest of the afternoon in the city center, much of which wraps around the large, crescent shaped Doha Bay.
I loved the skyline--a mix of ultramodern, futuristic, architecture. "Cold," said Jolie. "It just feels cold, lifeless." And I had to agree. Despite the uniqueness of the buildings, the center lacked a warmth that other cities have. But, then again, this was a city that was preparing for the future, and it was still a works in progress. After roaming around for two hours we'd pretty much exhausted one super-modern high rise after another.
By now it was late afternoon and the sun was getting ready to set. We made our way out of the glassy, futuristic center of the city to the Corniche--a ten kilometer pedestrian walkway that stretched all along Doha Bay--from the Museum of Islamic Art at one end to the luxury hotels at the other.
Families were picnicking on the grassy knolls, Phillipina nannies chatted in small groups, joggers ran in the cool of early evening.
All day long I'd wanted to take a ride on a dhow--the traditional boats that people used for centuries for travel and fishing in the Arabian Gulf. I wanted to ride the waters of the bay, catch a sea breeze and see the city after dark.
Because this was the time of Eid Mubarak, one of several huge Islamic holidays, something akin to Christmas in the giving of gifts and visiting friends and relatives. Kids were out of school and families were in abundance on the Corniche. Several dhows were offering 20 minute rides, so I joined two large groupings of families. It was me the Westerner and twenty or so Qataris.
Just as the boat set sail, I turned eastward and there, rising slowly next to one of Doha's futuristic buildings, was a full Harvest moon climbing into the desert sky. It literally took my breath away!
Our small boat set sail--a short twenty minute cruise on Doha Bay. We got far enough off shore to have a full view of the city's post-post modern skyline, bright with neon blues, greens, and reds. Their lights reflected beautifully on the calm waters of the sea.
I wanted to give God a great big round of applause, but I just didn't think it appropriate. Kids were dancing on the deck of the ship. I was the only tourist. I could just hear them muttering...Crazy tourist! Instead I silently whispered a prayer of thanks for a very fine end to a very fine day.
Later, we wandered back to Souk Waqif. The stifling humidity of the day had been replaced by a soft, light breeze. We found a seat at an Iraqi restaurant and watched the world go by.
It had been a rare day--a day full of sights, sounds and smells that reminded me I was far, far from home. I knew I was in Qatar, but I could not shake the idea that I was in a theme park. The souk, new, but made to look old, could easily have been at Epcot Center. And the center of Doha--well, it could easily be in a Disney park entitled "The World of Tomorrow."
Still, it had been a wondrous day and I wasn't sorry to get back to the hotel, take a shower, crawl into bed and let good air conditioning lull me to sleep.
October 29, 2012
Altitude: 66'
The first time I went to Europe was in the summer of 1976. I was 27 and this would be the "dream trip" I'd wanted for along time. Despite all my preparation, I was ill-prepared for the reality of solo travel in France and beyond.
After I was dropped off at the airport, after I checked in, after my parents bid be Bon Voyage, after I cleared security, a surprising panic set in.
Two flights were leaving that evening for Paris. One left a mere thirty minutes befor mine. "God," I whispered, "Take that flight and meet me in France. With you on the ground before me I'll be OK."
He did meet me, and he did make smooth my travels. And to this day I still whisper that same prayer. OK, maybe not to Mexico, but certainly to new and "exotic" locales.
And that's what I did on the evening of October 29th. For whatever reason--fatigue from an 11 hour flight, entry into a new country (decidely foreign)--I was spooked.
I silently asked him to take the first shuttle bus that had just left the aircraft. When it stopped at the arrivals terminal, I was the only one got off. Everyone else was heading for a connecting flight. Once at Quatari immigration things were swift and I was at the hostel in no time.
Just after I arrived I meet Jolie, a woman about my age from Italy, on her way to Thailand who, like me, was using Doha as a stop over for a few days. We made plans to spend the next day and tour the city together.
Over breakfast, she struggled with English. Finally, she asked me "Parlez vous Francais?" "I'm sorry," I said, "Pero hablo Espanol." And so we were a team--and Italian and an American, using Spanish as the common language. All those studies have certainly paid off.
After breakfast we set off for Souk Waqif--a sprawling Middle Eastern shopping area whose roots date back centuries. The souk dates back to the 1700's and is one of the oldest in the Arabian Gulf. It's 60,000 square feet with more than 1,200 stores lined along winding lanes.
It was still early but heaps of Quataris were shopping. We just wandered, turning down one lane and be in an alley selling only men's Arab clothing--the al bish--the traditional white cloak and its headdress, the al qutra. When they wore this, only their eyes were exposed. Another lane only sold antiques, music or fabric.
At times the air was rich with the smell of frankincense, coffee mixed with the piercing smell of cardamon or the scents of Arab perfumes.
Qatari women, unlike their Saudi counterparts, shopped singly or in groups. All were dressed in the traditional darra'a--only their eyes exposed.
It was all, well...right out of Aladdin. I half expected a genie to appear at any moment or round a corner and find magic carpets for sale.
By mid afternoon we stopped for lunch. We had a wealth of choices--Iraqi, Lebanese, Moroccan, Syrian, Egyptian. Thankfully there wasn't a McDonald's in sight.
But there was more to Doha than this souk. Despite the heat--a humid 90 degrees--we grabbed a cab and spent the rest of the afternoon in the city center, much of which wraps around the large, crescent shaped Doha Bay.
I loved the skyline--a mix of ultramodern, futuristic, architecture. "Cold," said Jolie. "It just feels cold, lifeless." And I had to agree. Despite the uniqueness of the buildings, the center lacked a warmth that other cities have. But, then again, this was a city that was preparing for the future, and it was still a works in progress. After roaming around for two hours we'd pretty much exhausted one super-modern high rise after another.
Families were picnicking on the grassy knolls, Phillipina nannies chatted in small groups, joggers ran in the cool of early evening.
All day long I'd wanted to take a ride on a dhow--the traditional boats that people used for centuries for travel and fishing in the Arabian Gulf. I wanted to ride the waters of the bay, catch a sea breeze and see the city after dark.
Because this was the time of Eid Mubarak, one of several huge Islamic holidays, something akin to Christmas in the giving of gifts and visiting friends and relatives. Kids were out of school and families were in abundance on the Corniche. Several dhows were offering 20 minute rides, so I joined two large groupings of families. It was me the Westerner and twenty or so Qataris.
Just as the boat set sail, I turned eastward and there, rising slowly next to one of Doha's futuristic buildings, was a full Harvest moon climbing into the desert sky. It literally took my breath away!
Our small boat set sail--a short twenty minute cruise on Doha Bay. We got far enough off shore to have a full view of the city's post-post modern skyline, bright with neon blues, greens, and reds. Their lights reflected beautifully on the calm waters of the sea.
I wanted to give God a great big round of applause, but I just didn't think it appropriate. Kids were dancing on the deck of the ship. I was the only tourist. I could just hear them muttering...Crazy tourist! Instead I silently whispered a prayer of thanks for a very fine end to a very fine day.
Later, we wandered back to Souk Waqif. The stifling humidity of the day had been replaced by a soft, light breeze. We found a seat at an Iraqi restaurant and watched the world go by.
It had been a rare day--a day full of sights, sounds and smells that reminded me I was far, far from home. I knew I was in Qatar, but I could not shake the idea that I was in a theme park. The souk, new, but made to look old, could easily have been at Epcot Center. And the center of Doha--well, it could easily be in a Disney park entitled "The World of Tomorrow."
Still, it had been a wondrous day and I wasn't sorry to get back to the hotel, take a shower, crawl into bed and let good air conditioning lull me to sleep.
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