Doha Point of View

 

If you missed these on facebook, they are pics from my "temporary" apartment, Ezdan Tower 4. I learned from a co-resident who has been here many more times than I, that many of these impressive structures are, in fact, empty. They were built to impress the International community, but there are not enough clients to lease all the space. I watched a man in the building in this bottom picture last night, from my spot at the pool. He started at the top and went down, floor by floor, gradually turning on lights. What is the point of a building like this, if it is not lit up at night? But perhaps you can see in the top right corner of the building, the two smashed out windows. I am beginning to sense that this is a metaphor for this mentality in this city. But I have been here only eight days. What do I know?

 I am taking full advantage of my new spot. Before I was living in a very...local...neighborhood. At first it made me nervous, but after one week of venturing out, I had fallen in love. Now I am seeing the other, more toursity, or business side of the city. It has its own glamour and charms. Maid service, room service, stunning views, restaurants, a fitness club, and a great Olympic-sized pool. It makes me feel like I am on vacation. The only problem is that all the cute neighborhood places I was getting to know are far away now, and all around me is corporate Qatar. Steel and concrete. I don't even know where there is a grocery store.

Miracle of miracles: Exactly two months to the day after sending them, my six shipped boxes arrived at the school today! I got my art books just in the nick of time, and I could hardly remember what I had packed, so it was pretty fun to unpack. I wish I could show you the condition the boxes arrived in. They looked like they had literally been run over by a truck. Some things were smashed, but nothing of sentimental value was destroyed, and even most of the dishes I sent myself made it, minus a bowl or two. Quite amazing. When I finally get to move into a real apartment, I will be all set. For now, I am bringing one box per day over here on the teacher bus after work, once I check that it does not contain anything that should be left at school.

Which reminds me: Getting bussed to work is weird. This week the bus is picking us up at the residence at 8, and coming to the school to take us home at 1. This means my days are not as productive as they should or could be. I realize I could work at home, but when I get here, I want to go to the gym, the pool, the souk to spend more money, anywhere and everywhere. Plus I don't want to haul all my resource books around. People RENT cars here for not too much money, just one school year at a time, then turn them in June 27th. Eventually I might work up to it, but I need to wait until I am more confident in my mental map of the city. The drivers are unforgiving and super aggressive, and there is no way I want to get out there on my own right now. I kind of like relaxing in the back while a driver takes me around. The only thing is, when you want to work later, earlier, or grocery shop, things get a little crazy. But lots of urbanites do it their whole lives, and thankfully cabs are cheap, cheap, cheap here. Plus, we get a transportation allowance. It will help.

There is a student who pops in every day because her mom works at the school. She is a grade five cutie. Today she asked me how long I was going to stay here. I said I didn't know and that I left all my friends behind to come here. She said, "But you're making lots of new friends, like the red-headed science teacher that was just in here!" Nice to know she wants me to stick around, though we will see what happens when the semester is in full swing.

I have already been to the gym, and tomorrow night is beach night at the Intercontinental, so I'd better get out in the desert and get me some shopping done. Or else just find some good take out. I also need a SIM card for my blackberry today. This ancient cell phone they gave us is driving me bonkers. Even more bonkers. It is like a play phone. A prop. I confess. I love my crackberry.