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!!!!)

Wrestlers in the ME

I just lost an entire blog post ... about something entirely different than this post ... and I got over it.  

Quick.

No use bleeding all over the carpet about it, is there? 

I called Smilin' Vic, who's out with a Canadian friend visiting Doha, and he commiserated as I described the horror of losing a 2-hour diatribe to the viciousness of a Safari Shutdown.

And he was duly empathetic.  Smilin' Vic is the biggest GypsyInTheME supporter ever.  I have to love him for that and so much more.  

After losing all that, after the first time blogging in a while, I didn't feel much like putting any effort into writing. 

I started YouTubing ... and came across "The Wrestler" by Bruce Springsteen.  

And realized that sometimes I'm gonna "leave with less than I had before".  I remembered that doing what I love isn't always about winning.  Sometimes you write well; sometimes you write crap.  Sometimes you lose everything you write.  Sometimes you're just a 'one-handed' writer.

Once in a while, people will like what I have to write.  

And tell me, Friend, "can I ask for anything more?" 

It's so much like our life here. 

We're in the rink.  It's a fight.  We've left everything behind.  We're a 'one trick pony' and we're here to earn what we can off of it.   Every once in a while someone smiles when our "blood, it hits the floor".  But we can't ask for anything more.

We work day in and day out like a "one-armed man punching at the breeze" in the hopes that one day the bruises we display will bring us to that place we want to be.  

We are "the one legged man" he sings of.  Some days we are broken, but we refuse to be defeated.  At the end of the day, we are doing what we know.  Broken bones and bruises we display.  A one-legged duo trying to dance its way free ...  

Sad, but true.  

Not so sad, actually.  We're doing what we know, what we can, to make a life, to make a living, to wrestle our way to freedom ...

"Have you ever seen ... a one-legged dog makin' its way down the street?"   That's us, slightly broken, but making our way home ...

We've pushed away the comfort ... we proudly display the broken bones and bruises, and one day they'll bring us home.

One lost post won't break me .... nor will life in the ME ... 

Our blood will hit the floor, we'll be bruised, we might not be graceful ... but we'll make it.  It's the wrestler in us, wrestlers in the ME... 

OFFICIAL SONG - HQ WINNER OF BEST SONG @ THE GOLDEN GLOBES Snubbed from the 81st/2008 Academy Awards/Oscars... Bruce Springsteen wrote it as a gift for Mickey Rourke, in Darren Aronofsky's THE WRESTLER. **I cut out some of the opening because it goes on for a while.

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).

A Few Pics of the ME from Me ...

I'm posting these pics of Doha after being inspired by two blogs I've recently discovered.

Both Dimwit and MB have captivated my reading senses, one spinning tales of insanity in Pittsburgh, the other relating a journey through Saudi and places travelled.  

While their experiences and writing styles may differ, what the two have in common is their ability to weave their pictures intrinsically into the tale being told.  

It's a skill I'm sadly lacking.  But I thought I'd post a few (extremely amateur) images of Qatar as seen through the lens of a "Doha insider" with "barely there" photography skills.   

And hopefully I'd pique my readers' (or should that be reader's - singular) interest in checking out these other two so very amazing blogs. 

Hope you'll enjoy!

Marina at sunset as seen from the Four Seasons Hotel in Doha. 

Traditional National dance performed by expat kids as part of International Day activities at school.

Girl Scout flag ceremony in Qatar.  2012 Camp Out on Sheik Faisal Museum grounds.

Inside the Qatar National Exhibition Center at night.

Abayas at night.

West Bay (downtown Doha - business/diplomatic core). 

Desert campsite and sand duning. 

Making sure no one runs out of water.  Bringing the water truck along for a camping trip is something we just don't think of doing in Canada ...

Doha Skyline at night as seen from the Museum of Islamic Arts.

Doha Dragonfly.

Some days the aircon just doesn't cut it ...

View of West Bay as seen from within.

As seen from another angle.  And a rare shot of clouds and blue in this desert sky.