Weather You Like ME or Not ...

The shift in the weather has been sudden this year in the ME.  

No, this isn't Doha.  This is a pic from my friend's living room window in Northern New Brunswick on April 1, 2014.  APRIL FIRST!!!!!!  Those are telephone and power lines in the background.  Having gone from that extreme to the harsh desert, I'm hopeful that some future assignment might see us halfway weather wise, maybe on the French Riviera or something!

After surprisingly cool and pleasant temperatures extending from December to the beginning of April, we were greeted on Sunday with a steadily rising barometer, reaching up into the low 40s by mid-week (that's Celsius, in case there was any doubt).

No escaping it, summer is here.

Something tells me it's going to be a long, hot, humid summer in the ME.  Doha skies like the ones below, a welcome sight in March, are likely a thing best forgotten for the next seven months or so.

Rare Doha skies in winter, slightly reminiscent of Atlantic Canadian summer skies.

We are fast approaching the months where it's too HOT to swim, ride a bike, ride a motorcycle, play tag or even walk outdoors.

Almost time to put these babies away ... (not my wheels BTW ... I don't ride)

Within a few months, the only respite we'll have from the heat will be the air conditioned indoors and memories of cooler climates.

It's those very 'heated' Doha moments that make me feel like 'cool' is more than just a generation away, and that make me so very happy not all our trips are "beachy".  

Like our most recent trip to London for Spring Break.

It's nice to have a not-so-distant memory of cool, damp and stormy.  

Smilin' Vic and Kiddo strolling in London in early April ...

My sister and her hubby joined us from Canada on rainy strolls through the streets of London.

So nice to have recent memories of enjoying the "toasty-warm" of indoors.  

Does anyone else feel like singing "Hallelluiah!" when they look at this pic?  A nice glass of red really warms the insides on a damp and cold spring day.  (@ Cheshire Cheese, London, England)

Or perhaps this is more heart-warming to some?  (@ Cheshire Cheese, London, England)

I dare say the hot days of summer are here.  Slow, lethargic days.  Weather we like it or not, summer is here in the ME.

So I'll leave you with a few more pics of our trip ... (note that not ALL days were damp and gloomy).

Landing in London ...

Just out for a leisurely patrol ...

Intriguing contrast ...

View of St. Paul's Cathedral from Fleet St.

Lighting a candle for my dad, God rest his soul.

Sacrifice commemorated ...

....

Mandatory sight-seeing break ...

Ye Olde Pub Time ...

I love this place ... La Floridita has a real '50's gangster vibe.

Yup!  We stayed here on our last night in London!  How does a desert dwelling Atlantic Canadian say "High Tea"?  Sounds something like "SOCIAL!!!!!"

Directions from the Waldorf to "Matilda".

Afternoon matinee :-)

A 'Frank' you'll never forget ...

Christ Church in Oxford.

Oxford.

Oxford

Oxford

View from our flat in the evening. 

Shadows in the ME ...

An odd shadow swept across the Doha sky on the morning I touched back down in the Land of Sand; a mysterious swipe of darkness contrasted against an otherwise seemingly fine bright sky.

Not clouds, not fog, not mist.  Simply a mysterious shadow reflecting upon the heavens from below. 

An appropriate reflection of the shadow casting darkness over me. 

How very fitting ... 

Note the shadow clearly visible from our front porch.  This photo was not retouched.

Totally Doha ... Totally Me ...

I have these moments ... these weird moments where I'm totally me, totally where I'm supposed to be.

They always freak me out.

Like today.

Where I finally let rip on a consultant who outright lied to my face (honor rather than valor is rampant around these here parts ...).

I let RIP .....

It's not like I was graceful about it. Not like I handled it in a truly professional manner. Not like I was proud of myself when I finally walked away. But I simply COULD NOT TAKE IT ....

ANY MORE.

It happens.

A LOT.

HERE.

In Doha

Another totally 'me' moment ... with my friends, tonight, having dinner and drinks at the Four Seasons Hotel ... Completely surreal, yet totally where I'm supposed to be.

Seated smack-dab in between the South African cursing queen and the British pinkie-raising, biscuit-eating, tea-drinking Queen's subject.

Talking about breastfeeding days that are far behind me and an old age home that is years away (In'Shallah).

Drinking wine.

Smoking cigarettes.

Commisserating.

Laughing.

Loving.

It happens.

A LOT.

HERE.

In Doha.

The wine and cigarettes were a reward. For sitting in traffic for over two hours today. Total bumper-to-bumper, side-to-side, romper room fun ;-)

Driving in Doha traffic is hit and miss. I try to take it all in stride. But sometimes it gets the best of me. Sometimes I lose it.

BIG TIME.

I have these moments where I actually curse out fellow drivers. We're stuck in a quagmire of vehicles that is at a complete standstill and the driver behind me will start honking his horn.

And I will angle my rear-view mirror directly at his face, issue a few expletives (if Kiddo's not in the car), and give him my evil eye.

This all has zero effect on anyone else. But for me it is a huge release of steam. I get to be totally me in my Hyundai sanctuary.

I remember losing it once with Kiddo in the car. I didn't curse, but I raised my fist and shouted out "are you INSANE?????" to the driver of the half-ton truck with the camel in the box who cut me off as he headed down the wrong lane in the wrong direction (!). Kiddo calmly uttered from the back seat: "I really don't think he hears you, Maman". She was right, of course, but far too young to understand the gratification that comes with just "losing it" on someone, whether they hear you or not.

I have these moments, these moments that are totally mine, totally me. Where I let rip. Where I lose it. Where I smoke cigarettes. Where I drink wine. Where I lose it. Where I say the wrong things and don't feel bad about it. Where I cheerily ooze vino excess as I stumble through the front door. Where I'm not trying to be pretty, or smart, or cool, or proper. These moments in Doha.

These moments where I am totally me ....

Tom Jones Rocked Doha ...

This is wayyyyyy past due.  But I thought it was worth posting.  Just in case there are any "true blue", "tie-dyed" Tom Jones fans out there. 

Here is a pic from the evening in Doha from Yours Truly ... 

Waiting in line ... proper polite British cue ... no shoving!

Unfortunately I couldn't upload my clips because they are incompatible and too big for SquareSpace and I'm too un-tech savvy to fix the problem.  

But here's the YouTube link to "Tower of Soul" ... which is just one song that makes this man the legend that he is.

All I can tell you is that it was more amazing live....

The man stood on a sweltering beach stage in a turtleneck and blazer belting it out like a teenager.  He was ... 

AMAZING! 

 (And yes, women DID throw their undies at him in the ME!!!!)

Crazy Makes Me Come Alive; Constants Keeps Me Sane

Wow, it's been a while ... 

Sitting at my computer, clicking on my blog ... it almost feels like I'm stepping back in time, like I'm visiting my childhood home.  It's been too long.  It feels good; feels like home, feels comfortable now that I've wriggled my butt back into the familiar imprint of my office chair.

Life is crazy right now, but that's ok.  It's sometimes the crazy that truly makes us come alive. 

A lot's been going on these days, but some things are constant ... The constants are what keep us sane. 

September 1, 2013

Take, for example, my very Canadian habit of commenting on the weather EVERY DAY.  That hasn't changed.  After seven years in a country where it takes months for the mercury to budge one single degree, that HASN'T changed.  

I still Google the weather every day, step outdoors to check the weather early every morning, and comment to Smilin' Vic on the weather EVERY SINGLE DAY.

It's in my blood to live my life according to the weather.  I hail from a land where the weather can shift 20C in the space of 24 hours.  I remember one specific Saturday in May on the North Shore of New Brunswick where we basked on the deck in shorts and sandals.  

The next day, Mother's Day, the second Sunday in May, we headed outdoors to find the BBQ buried under a foot of snow.  That's the year my mom had Mother's Day stew instead of BBQ.  

September 5, 2013

The next morning, after the snow had melted, a good twenty minutes were expended griping about the weather by the water cooler.  It's just the Canadian thing to do ... talk about the weather.  We lament the rain on a friend's wedding day, we celebrate the snow on Christmas Eve, we rejoice about tulips blooming early in spring, we take in every single moment of heat and sunshine we get.  It's how Canadians break the ice, it's how we bond, it's how we make up ... We simply talk about the weather.  The constance of talking about the crazy keeps us sane.

In Qatar, the weather barely changes.  Though I check the weather daily, it would be pushing it a bit to actually "talk" about it.  

The conversation in July would go something like this: 

Me:  "So, what's the weather looking like tomorrow? 

Nameless/Faceless Person:  "Uhmmmm, hot and humid?" 

In November: 

Me:  "Soooo, what's the weather forecast for tomorrow? "

Nameless/Faceless Person:  "Uhmmmm, hot and foggy?" 

In March: 

Me:  "Sooooooooo, what kind of weather are we expecting tomorrow?" 

Nameless/Faceless Person:  "Uhmmmmmm, hot and dusty?" 

In May: 

Me:  "Sooooooooooooo, what's the weather looking like tomorrow?" 

Nameless/Faceless Person:  "For goodness sakes woman, it's been a year!  Nothing changes.  Get over it.  It will be hot, hot, hot, HOT! .... ... ... and maybe windy..." 

September 10, 2013

Yet I can't get over my fixation with the weather.  It's an almost superstitious conviction that if I stop thinking about the weather I will forget who I am and where I come from.  It's as if my obsession with the weather keeps me grounded.

It's felt even more so over the last few weeks when dropping Kiddo off at school.

Every weekday as I make my way to the school gate, I make sure I take a moment to stop and look the crossing guards and security guards square in the eyes to wish them good morning.  Why?  Because I've checked the weather.  I know it's already 34C at 7:00 a.m.  I realize that my daughter is the reason they must stand there for over an hour in the scorching heat and glaring sun with beads of sweat glistening on their ebony brows.  And while many drivers are cursing them out for slowing traffic and some parents grow frustrated because they make everyone cross 'exactly' at the crosswalk, I remind myself how very very hot and miserable they must be under that safety jacket and smile.  

That's when Canadian fixation with the weather translates into

empathy.

September 11, 2013

Every week when I go fill the car up with gas, I leave a big fat tip for the gas attendant.  He stands there, day in and day out, breathing in nauseating petrol fumes and enduring not only the heat from the sun and the pavement, but also that which is reflected off the hood of my car, and that which is pulsating from the revving, overheating engines that file by endlessly throughout the day.  I look at that gas attendant and see an old man whose bones ache, whose heart aches for the family he's left behind on the Subcontinent, whose spirit is broken by the blaring horns of drivers impatient to get on with their day and oblivious to his suffering.  On really hot days, my tip might equal the cost of my gas (gas is very cheap here ... as is labour).

That's when the Canadian fixation with the weather translates into

compassion.

September 23, 2013

Every day as I battle the Doha traffic congestion brought about by a massive municipal road construction project, I urge myself to be patient.  Because as I sit there fuming in my air-conditioned SUV, police officers stand at the roundabouts that pepper the downtown for hours on end, directing traffic, inhaling the fumes of thousands of vehicles, enduring the toxic stench and defying the heat.  I've yet to see one collapse or go postal (guaranteed I'd be doing so after 15 minutes under that sun).

That's when Canadian fixation with the weather translates into

respect.

September 24, 2013

Every day that I see the weather edge down a single degree, I thank goodness.  Every day that I see the humidity going down, I say a silent prayer of thanks (and not just because the frizzy hair season is almost behind us).  Pool temperatures are dipping below 35C, a day at the beach is almost fathomable, morning runs are almost pleasant, evenings in the back yard sipping on wine are just around the corner.  A matter of 4C and 30% humidity variance.  Yet it makes all the difference in the world.

That's when Canadian fixation with the weather translates into

appreciation. 

That's when it doesn't seem so silly to be so concerned with the weather. 

September 26, 2013 (a.m.)

I'm not a great person.  I have many failings.  Too many to count.  But somehow being a weather tracker makes me want to be a better person.  

That doesn't mean I'll be chatting about the weather 'round the water cooler at work any time soon.  Nope, when I go into work on Sunday, my first twenty minutes will be spent around the water cooler talking about

traffic. 

Because we're in Qatar.  Where traffic is crazy;  where conversation about traffic is constant. 

Crazy makes us come alive.  

Constants keep us sane ... 

September 26, 2013 (p.m.)  Actually sat outside wearing a hoodie!  How far I've risen (from an all-time low of -41C + windchill to an all-time high of 50C + humidity).