Good Eats in Doha in the summer ...

In Canada, autumn and winter are all about comfort food, warm, hearty meals and inventive cuisine.  Spring and summer are when grills come out - steak and shrimp on the BarB, the occasional sausage or burger, spinach salad and lots of fresh summer produce.  Quick meals that allow us to spend maximum time enjoying the glorious warmer weather.

In Qatar, at least for us, the opposite seems to ring true.  With the arrival of hellish heat in May comes the desire to retire indoors, draw the blinds, and either cook up a storm or order in.  The occasional meal out is another way to beat the heat and avoid absolute hibernation.

The dusty 'tagine'.

With the a/c turned up full blast and the blinds drawn to keep the cool in, I get a sudden nesting urge, re-arranging pots and pans and rediscovering items like the tagine that has been sitting useless on top of the kitchen cabinets for eight months. 

Hellish weather on our doorstep ...

This morning I'm overcome with a sudden urge to put that clay pot to good use, so decide to throw in some lamb chops, garlic, mint, root vegetables and stock.  Voila!  A hearty meal that will warrant popping open a lovely bottle of red for dinner!  I'm sitting outside at 8:00 a.m., in 36C weather, enjoying the early morning 'coolness' with a steaming cup of Joe before the extreme heat forces me back in around 10:00 a.m.  That's when temps are likely to rise above forty, but I'll consider myself lucky that humidity hasn't yet kicked.  If it had, I wouldn't be sitting out here typing about the stodgy meal slow cooking in my polar kitchen.

But I can still enjoy a steaming cup of coffe outdoors in the early morning hours ...

But what to do on those days when you just don't feel like cooking in Doha?  Well, let's just say that this is a city built with the laziest of cooks in mind.  Restaurants and takeaways abound, with shawarma stalls and Turkish takeouts on every street corner.  If you are craving something more Western and artery-clogging, head down to Cholesterol Corner for your choice of: McDonald's (even McD's delivers in Doha), Chilli's, Appleby's, Ponderosa (I know, I thought it had gone the way of the pioneer as well!), Burger King, Hardee's, Dairy Queen, and the list goes on endlessly.

Our preferred indulgence leans more toward Thai Snack, an amazing little oasis (albeit somewhat neglected in appearance) takeaway on Al Nasr street, just off Cholesterol Corner.  Delicious dumplings, cashew beef, papaya salad and Tom Yum soup.  You can eat in or take out, but they don't deliver.  Parking on the busy street can be a challenge, but still, it's worth the effort.

Kiddo likes pizza, and for an occasional indulgence we'll order from Fabio's.  Though they have an amazing array of sophisticated and creative pies (asparagus, seafood, boconccini, etc.) I have to admit that plain old pepperoni is a favorite in our household, even for our self-professed vegetarian child (she's not convinced pepperoni is actually meat ... I think she might be on to something). 

Turkey Central, also on Al Nasr street, is another yummy and affordable option, but the staff taking your order over the phone have a limited grasp of English, so what gets delivered to you might not be quite what you'd ordered.  Once in a while, you get lucky, and they actually send you something much tastier than your original selection. 

When we dine out, we usually like to go somewhere that will allow us to pair up our meal with a glass of wine or lager.  This limits us to hotel restaurants, of which there are few that serve up a fairly decent meal without totally breaking the bank.

On Thursday we went to the Belgian Bar at the Intercontinental Hotel.  Oysters on the shell, salmon and asparagus tartare, mussels in garlic and wine, grilled steak and a bottle of Chianti set us back about $200.  All in all, the meal was ok, the atmosphere chilled and laid back, though quite smoky by the time 10:00 p.m. rolled around.  

When going for mussels, I actually prefer Mykonos, a Greek restaurant also at the Intercon.  The lovely terrace is glorious in cooler months, but it loses some of its charm in the summer months when you have to retire to the indoor section.   But again, you should leave with enough in your wallet to at least pay the cab fared or the ride home.

For the ultimate in Asian fusion taste and dining experence, Hakkasan at the St. Regis Hotel is definitely our favorite, with the best crispy duck salad I've had in my life.  But you're guaranteed to come away with gaping holes in your pockets to make room for that full tummy.  If you follow your host's menu and pairing suggestion for two, don't be surprised if you leave the restaurant nearly 400$ (QAR 1,400) poorer than when you arrived.

We're not huge fans of Indian cuisine, but Chingari at Radisson Blu would convert even the greatest hater.  The relaxed seating, Indian house band, impeccable service and mouth-watering chappati and butter chicken make for a truly enjoyable dining experience.

These are just a few of our favorites (note, I'm not plugging these restaurants for any personal or financial benefit, only to share a few ideas with Doha readers).  I'd love to hear yours.

The veg that will go into the lamb tagine .... Not exactly considered summer fare in Canada!

Happy hibernating/dining in Doha! 

Ask me if I make a difference ...

I think most everyone asks themselves at one point or another what their purpose is.  Why are we here?  What have we done today or any day to make the world a tiny bit better?

Most of us aren't policy-makers or multi-millionaires; we can't change the plight of a village in a day or feed all the hungry.  We aren't all prepared to become full-time social activists or to voice a protest that would jeopardize our family's livelihood and wellbeing. 

But I'm a firm believer in 'voice'.  We all have a voice, no matter how soft or how loud.  No matter if we use it sparingly or constantly.   And we can use that teeny tiny voice or that GIANT BOOMING VOICE to make a little difference every day.

I'm living in a country where worker welfare has been thrust (finally!) onto the forefront of the national agenda.  There are many official bodies working to turn an existing system upside down to better the plight of foreign laborers.  Most of the agenda items they are dealing with are beyond my remit and my control.  I fully support them, but I realize that my voice carries little weight at that level.

A laborer heading home after a hard day's work in Doha ...

But some - SOME - differences I am able to make on a daily basis ALL ON MY OWN.  Simple things, little things, big things.  I can make a little difference every day.  Little differences that thousands of people just like me have used over the years to contribute and lend credence to the shift in perception that is now reverberating in this country.  I have a voice, shouldn't I be compelled to use it?

The other day, as I was dropping Kiddo off at school, I saw a dad give the crossing guards some juice boxes.  He made a little difference.  Because he was helping them stay hydrated, but mostly because he 'noticed' that they might be hot and thirsty.  And cared enough to do something about it.  We all like to know someone cares.

There are so many people toiling around us each day.  So many lives that we can touch by caring.  By caring enough to do something.  Or ask something.  Or show we care about something.  Even just a little something.

Every office, establishment and compound in Qatar comes with some degree of cleaning, pantry, maintenance and security staff.  These people do everything from clean toilets, offer to help carry paperwork, remember that someone likes mint but no sugar in their tea, and so much more.  

I've written out a list of questions below, for me, to figure out where I am using my voice to show these people I care and where I might try to use it more. 

Do I know the name of the young man who brought me my coffee with two scoops of sugar and a 'spot' of milk this morning?  Did I call him by his name and say 'thank you' when he brought it to me today?

Did I smile at the security guard who asked me for my I.D. before letting me into the parking facility at work and thank him for a job well done?  Did I ask him if the night shift had been long?

Have I ever brought the compound maintenance staff a nice chicken curry 'just because', or had my child bring compound security staff a note that says 'thanks for keeping us safe'? 

Do I hold the door open for the weighted down delivery man at the office?

Do I actually stop to have conversations with those people in my life who make a difference to me every day?  Do I actually care about THEIR day?

It may be that my greatest purpose in life ends up being 'caring'.  Caring leads to 'doing'.  There are many things I simply cannot do.  But there are little things I can.  Little things that show I care.

It's just a matter of recognizing them, and doing them.  And maybe, just maybe, one little thing will make a little difference in someone's life.  And make their life just 'a tiny bit' better.  And eventually, if we're all doing it, maybe collectively make a monumental difference.  Or maybe not.  Maybe a little difference in one person's life is all the purpose we need.

If we all commit to that little bit, eventually it might amount to a lot. 

I would love to hear how you've made a little or a big difference. In the world you live in.  Inspire me!

What Moved Me ...

This is a story about a guy who rides a camel through drive-throughs and does a happy dance with a mop ...

I didn't think I'd write here for a long, long while.

I didn't see the point; I felt disheartened, disillusioned, broken.  I had NOTHING positive to write about.

And I knew there was no good to be had in spreading the negativity.  The world has enough of that already.

I completely stepped away from all forms of social media for about two weeks.  While that might not seem long to some, or so very long to others, for me the lapse was what you'd call a 'significant' break.

I'm not a huge 'twitterer'.  

But I check out Facebook at least once a day.  

I visit my blog every day.  

I'll occasionally sign in to LinkedIn.  

I check my hotmail every few hours without fail.  

I scan Mail OnLine because I secretly enjoy the trash.  

I lurk on my favorite blogs for sheer entertainment and because I've actually become 'friends' with their authors ... these strange, hilarious, sad, engaging, amazing kindred writer souls.  

I read Doha News religiously, because the reporters there always seem to know what's happening here before anyone else...

But for the last two weeks, I just stepped away.  

Completely.

And it actually felt good/great.

It felt like I was a newborn, rediscovering my thoughts; actually having to sort them out before spewing them out.

You see, I'm a thinker, then a writer.  But I'm not much of a vocalizer.  So for the last two weeks, I've actually had to run things through my brain and work through them ... without blogging or talking.  Just thinking.

And since there was (virtually) no social media input, all I had to think about was me and my life and all that's in it. 

There's something to be said about that.

But a few days ago, like every good addict, I decided I wanted a little bit 'in'.  My fast was over.

I checked out one blogger friend in France, and found she'd suffered a great loss.  One as great as mine, perhaps more.  Perhaps unexpected.  I realized I hadn't been around to ask.

I checked out my blog comments and found that another blogger buddy understood what 'ME fatigue' is all about.  (anyone living in the Middle East will understand the inexplicable 'tiredness')  But more than that, he really 'gets' living in the ME as an expat.  The whole 'love-hate' relationship.  Not everyone does.

My best blogging buddy (3B) who's followed me since I was a 'baby blogger' has been dealing with an injured spouse while celebrating a newfound calling.  Empathy and congratulations were in order.

My best friend in the world, the one who was my roommate for four years in university, the one who consoled the inconsolable when I got separated, the one who always assured me it would "be all right", the one who drove hours to see me when I was visiting my dying father, the one I love to the ends of the earth and beyond ... well, she just found out her mom has cancer.  I need to be available ... just in case she needs me.

Smilin' Vic's step-mom is undergoing chemotherapy ... it's not looking great.  I realized that when I opened my e-mail three days ago.  

My brother-in-law wants to make me laugh so he sends funny fart jokes and the occasional positive social interest piece on Qatar.  He e-mails.

My sister, my mentor, sent me a few messages.  I opened them today.  They were sent a week ago.  On WhatsApp.

Forgive me for my weakness, but I have quickly realized that an expat in Doha fares far worse without social media.  Unfortunately, my addiction to fibre-optic connectivity is a lifeline to what moves me.  It is a lifeline to what matters.

The key most likely resides in balance.  Balancing the NEED to communicate and the DESIRE to be heard.  There's no need to be in constant contact.  But there is a need as an expat to be 'reachable'.  There is a need as an expat to 'reach out'.

This blog is no place for negativity.  For reflection, yes.  For appreciation, yes.  For a good laugh, yes.  For a healthy rant, yes.  But not for negativity.  And so I've resolved to respect it for the healthy outlet it's meant to be.

Tonight I broke completely, like the true addict that I am, and was rewarded with a satisfying rush - a good news story, about Qatar to boot!  A story of one (caveat:  not the 'only' one) Qatari making a difference.  Changing the world, one gesture at a time.  That one Qatari made a difference.  That one Qatari moved me.

I was moved.  Truly moved.  Moved to the point of wanting to write about something positive again.  Despite the disparaging comments questioning the authenticity of the intent.  Despite the naysayers insisting that it's all a publicity stunt.  

I insist ... actually I KNOW, that there is inherent good in every society.  My previous rants, my disparaging comments about dissatisfaction in this country ... they're justified.  Through the eyes of a North American expat, they're justified.  But they're not fair.  They're my perception of a society, a Nation, trying to come to grips with Westernization.  And who am I to say the Western way is THE way?

All I can say in my defense is that I struggle with what is unfamiliar to me.  Even after eight years, I struggle.   

Which gives all the more credence to my hosts, who struggle every day to adapt to the expat population that engulfs them by approximately 85%.  

I can at least plead the frustration of a 'foreigner in a foreign land'.  

But imagine being a minority and a foreigner in your homeland.  Imagine.  This is your HOME.  And the world, the worldwide scrutiny, the wealth, and the media have taken over.  You have no place.  The world has tried you; you are wrong, you have done wrong, everything you believe in is wrong.  What do you do?  

Kudos to individuals like Hamad Al-Amari and Fatima Al-Dosari for trying to merge those worlds.  What did they do?  A little something.  A little something to make you 'Happy'.

I work with some very cool dudes.  Some Nationals who hang out with me and love a good laugh and song.  Some very respectful, respected, respectable individuals who actually want to see the WORLD, not just Qatar, be a better place.  Like the guy I know who went back to the Philippines last year to visit his childhood nanny, because he missed her, but also to see how he could help her and family.  

Living here is not easy.  I don't always 'get' it.  Often I want to go home.  But that's my thing.  

On the flip side, I admit to feeling personally offended when I read or hear of outsiders or newcomers trashing this country.

Everyone has some good in them.  They just don't always 'get' it.  Forty years ago, North Americans were driving 140 miles an hour down the highway with a kid bouncing around in the front seat and a case of beer at their feet.  We've evolved ... most of us ... to an extent.

Give Qatar time.  

Not eternity.  

Time.  

You got it.  

Qatar will too.

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. 

Come Camp With Me

Well, this Canadian lover of all things weather got treated to a few majestic meteorological events these last few weeks!

First, a water spout on the northern coast of Qatar, in Ras Laffan.

Water spout in Ras Laffan

Then some thunderstorms that literally shook the city and paralyzed traffic. I didn't get pictures of the storm, but these were the remnants yesterday morning on the drive to school.

Rare sight in Doha

This would of course be the rainy week Smilin' Vic would decide we're going to start camping!

Not your everyday drive to school ...

He's bought a second-hand tent of Saudi origin, apparently manufactured by the most renowned of Saudi Arabian tent manufacturers.

The "TENT"

He is smitten by this tent, insisting that we MUST take it out for a night of desert camping SOON.  He's told me that this amazing canvas abode is of military quality, no small praise from a former military man.

I'm a little wary of the whole desert camping thing.  The last time we attempted it was about five years ago.  We left Kiddo behind with friends.  Thank goodness, because it was a challenging adventure to say the least.

We'd gone along on a sand duning adventure with some friends, making it to the inland sea to catch a glimpse of Saudi before retiring for the afternoon/evening at an idyllic-looking camp site set up with a half-dozen Arabian tents, a metallic shed cum toilet/shower room, and a volleyball net erected above a sandy court.

A meal was spread out in the main air-conditioned tent, and we feasted on bbq'd meats and Mediterranean salads right there on the beach under the light of the moon and stars.

It was wonderful.  

Until the sun went down and I had to pee.  

As I got up from my lounge chair on the beach, I took in the beauty of the moon reflecting a million tiny lights across the stretch of sand.  The sight took my breath away, particularly when I realized that the beautiful little diamond-like reflections surrounding us were in fact small jelly fish.

As I cautiously lowered my foot from the lounger, a bevy of teeny tiny little mice scattered ... we'd never noticed them congregating under the warmth of our chairs to catch the little bits of Doritos that didn't quite make it past our lips.

I hopscotched my way to the toilet eventually, trying to avoid the food tent which was now teeming with mice desperate to claim every last morsel of the meal that had been prepared for us but never cleared away.  

I don't think I slept that night; every time I came close to drifting off, the back of my eyes would be filled with an image of me rolling off the chair and plopping onto a hoard of toxic jelly fish before being carted off by the army of mice intent on chewing every last speck of Dorito from my tangled hair.

The sun rose at about 5:00 the next morning.  As I lay there parched and hot, grumpy and sweaty, I raved drunkenly about the amazing bed and shower that awaited me back home.

All the tour guides had been through to take their shower by the time I made it to the aluminum port-a-bathroom.  The tin shed was by now akin to a sweat box, and I couldn't fathom taking a hot shower in that humid, putrid little space.

Smilin' Vic, ever the soldier, went in with his bar of soap and towel, sloshing into that little steam vat fully prepared to shower like a real man.  He turned on the tinkling shower head, and proceeded to sling his towel over the wire strung from one end of the tiny shed to the other.  It might have served him well to realize beforehand that it was the very same wire attached to the barely glowing light bulb hidden in the corner over the toilet.  But he realized it soon enough, and duly electrocuted, made a quick exit and declared it was time to head home.

That curbed our appetite for desert camping for a few years; I thought for ever.  But Smilin' Vic has different plans now, and is intent on organizing a truly serious camping adventure.

I'm already picturing the military approach that will be taken to this endeavor.  All I have to do is flash back to last weekend's beach trip.  Coolers packed, shelter in the back of the SUV, water jug ready, singing songs and halfway to the beach, Smilin' Vic asks if everyone is ok.  "Yes" reply Kiddo and I.  "Did everyone pee?"  he asks.  "Yes", we chime in.  "Poo?", he probes.  Kiddo and I are silent.  He says, I kid you not: "Well, I'm stopping at the next gas station, and whoever hasn't poo'd is going to go then."

Kiddo starts laughing in the back seat.  "We can't just POOOOO; I know you're joking Papa."

Smilin' Vic is unfortunately not joking.  "This is serious, if someone gets to the beach and has to go, there's nowhere to go.  And if you don't poo in this heat, you can get sick."

I roll my eyes.  "Seriously?  You ARE joking, right?"

Smilin' Vic is adamant.  "We used to have to do poo patrol out in the field. Guys would get sick.  They wouldn't go for weeks.  You wouldn't believe how ugly things can get when you've got a whole bunch of backed-up soldiers."

I am silent.  I adopt my dejected "no argument is going to best him" stance.  "Smilin' Vic, I know you find this hard to believe, but pooing on command is very uncivilian.  The general public just isn't brought up that way.  But, please, if it makes you feel better, stop at the next gas station and we'll do our best.  And we can pick up a chocolate bar while we're at it."

We never did stop at the gas station, ended up having a wonderful day at the beach, and I'm sure the camping will be just as fun.  Once poo patrol has been ascertained, throat swabs completed, and hydration check carried out.  

Oh, and provided the mice, jelly fish and water spouts remain at bay.

Great day at the beach.