In the midst of a revolution that was brewing in Egypt on January 25th (billed as "the day of rage") I was headed to Doha, Qatar for a professional development workshop with a couple of other teachers from school. It would be an understatement to say that we were preoccupied with the events unfolding back home. In the span of three days the situation in Egypt went from bad to worse as the Internet and mobile phone service was "turned off". I did manage to speak to Ana via landline-the only available source of communication into the country.
The uncertainty and worry I felt watching burning buildings and the police attacking citizens on Al Jazeera was compounded by Doha's soulless landscape. I don't know if I exactly hated Doha, it just made me feel numb. The setting was like a watered and beaten down version of Dubai complete with expats, tall buildings, and malls. Not exactly a flagships for culture. File Qatar as a "paycheck" destination.
Taxi are inexpensive but expect to endure a long travel time from point A to point B. Celine Dion and easy listening hits played at high volumes are a favorite among the Filipino and Indian drivers, this was confirmed on at least a half dozen trips. On only one occasion did a driver dare to play the Hot Topic variety of punk like AFI and Jimmy Eat World.
On a positive note, my haircut from the Indian gentleman was quite the experience. I think he threw in a couple of wresting moves by the way he twisted and stretched my arms, back, and neck. The drumming on and the slapping of my head was the pinnacle of the session. Did I mention I only went in for a trim? By the third neck pull I as ready to tap myself out. Since torture was the theme of the day, a visit to the men's massage center a couple of blocks down from the hotel was mandatory. The smallish man from Nepal did an excellent job of pouring the bottle of massage oil on my back prior to literally walking all over me. He was dead on when he commented that my muscles felt like they hadn't been worked on in 10 months. How the @#%! did he know that?
A trip to Qatar also meant a possible encounter with the ever-elusive Grant. Grant is a friend from back in the day that we all dearly miss. A Grant sighting is worth a trip to the corner market for a lottery ticket...in fact chances are better at seeing a California Condor on the moon. Spouses of mutual friends doubt his existence. True story-back in college 20 years ago we drove up to Glenwood Spring, CO for his band's gig and almost died twice in 12 hours. Although there is no evidence to back up the following claim, we did meet up on my last day for a lengthy lunch at a Turkish restaurant in an older part of Doha.
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