Because it's not hard enough only to find and then daily validate our own identities in the face of society and chemical balances, the world has now become a constant and overpowering presence via social media. Though the 24 hour news culture is often decried, CNN and Al Jazeera have nothing on Twitter. My feed ceaselessly assaults me with news: death in Syria, rape in India, debt in Greece, idiotic political battles in America. Species are evolving, species are going extinct. Heat waves are killing, floods are drowning. I've never been completely certain of my self, my complete identity, and the determination of information from all places on all topics to challenge my thoughts and opinions incessantly forces a non-stop recalibration down to my bones.
But isn't it purifying to challenge your opinions? To constantly expand your viewpoint and knowledge? Couldn't this never-ending barrage be refining your stances down into some point of perfect catharsis? Perhaps a life devoted to ingesting Twitter is a more certain way to divide yourself down into nothingness than years of meditation. Nirvana, 140 characters at a time.
Or is it just a grown-up surrogate for cruel classmates and disappointed parents, second-guessing your every thought?
Of course, the derivation of all this and the challenges that leads to is, at most, only half of the issue. More importantly-- or at least more outwardly apparent-- is what you produce. Twitter and Facebook and every other social network turn each day of our lives into a global public speaking gig. How do you express yourself, how do you expose yourself? Did your follower count rise or fall today? Is that last snippet of consciousness you decided to broadcast going to get you fired, arrested, deported?
When am I me?
I speak for my company, I write for my company. No matter how often I type all opinions my own, I am always the same person that holds that position at that place, there is always that line between A and B. When am I allowed to speak, what am I allowed to say? Just how often am I okay to be me-- who ever that person may be today and tomorrow and the next day-- how much of what I feel and think can I to admit to?
If I am able to decide, even for a brief moment, where I stand on the ever-shifting ground beneath me, is that so much of a victory in a world where everything you ever communicate by keys can forever be used against you? No matter what your opinion, someone out there holds the polar opposite. Every opinion we hold is a crime somewhere.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
That'll Teach You - A Mostly Political Review of World War Z
There are a number of plot points revealed in this piece. If you wish to avoid any and all spoilers, please come back after you have seen the film.
The Thursday morning screening of World War Z in Doha was more crowded than any other I have been to, the early shows on the first day usually deserted save for me and my notebook. "Crowded," of course, meaning maybe 50 people, all told. Still, that's something.
This film has had a lot of chatter about it for a long time, mostly because the production was plagued with problems from the beginning through to its (delayed) release. Of course, the number of my fellow cinema-goers yesterday that pay any attention to film blogs is probably nil. At any rate, I went into the theater with well-tempered expectations.
As for the movie as a movie, it was pretty good. Anyway, better than I had expected based on everything I have read about the production. If you're interested in knowing more about what I thought of it on the surface, please check out my review via Doha Film Institute. This, however, is for everything else that has been percolating in my head about the film-- mostly, the politics.
Producer/Star (Starducer?) Brad Pitt has been very forthcoming on the fact that is isn't really a zombie film, but "a Trojan Horse for sociopolitical problems." So, of course, I was keeping a keen eye peeled (from between my fingers) to hidden-- or not so hidden-- meanings. As I was taking in this film in a cinema deep in the Middle East and as I am hyper-aware of possible cultural clashes, I admit that I winced when it was announced that Pitt's UN investigator character, Gerry, had to go to Jerusalem to find answers.
In Jerusalem, they built a wall. To keep out thePalestinians hordes of violent, soul-devoid creatures.
This is a serious wall. Hundreds of feet high. Gerry asks why they built it, as it was finished just in time for things to go globally pear-shaped, and the Israeli official he is there to visit tells him that they intercepted a communique from India of people fighting what translated to zombies. He explains that everyone insisted it had to be code for something, but "when 9 people think one thing, it is the job of the 10th to disagree." The 10th person figured zombies meant zombies, and they built a ginormous wall to keep them out.
But, as Gerry says with some surprise as he visits, they're letting people in. "The less zombies to fight," comes the answer. And they do let in Muslims as well as Hebrews-- in fact, they pray side by side. More than that, they sing and clap and cheer, overjoyed at being saved by this city that has become, it seems, the last bastion of safety and normalcy in the world. A young Muslim girl takes a microphone from someone with a smile and starts to sing over the PA system. Everyone joins in, despite race or religion, creating a beautiful scene of humanity coming together and an ever bigger racket, which, though Gerry seems to have completely forgotten as he stands in the midst of it chatting, attracts the zombies. The amplified noise turns the frantic but previously unfocused monsters outside towards a common target, and although they do not so much work together as crawl over each other to be the first to feast, gigantic, writhing columns of Zeke form against the outside of the wall, and only moments later the first tumbles over into the crowd below, quickly leading to the destruction of Jerusalem. On the last flight out, Gerry looks down with a heavy sigh at carnage raging below, the Dome of the Rock just moving out of the frame of the window.
So that'll teach you.
Some have called for World War Z to be boycotted because it shows Israel and Mossad in such a good light, but I don't know that it necessarily does that-- or, at least, any moreso than called for. Yes, as Gerry arrives the flag of Israel flaps proudly against a blue sky, backlit by the sun. The city is shown to be calm, peaceful, the opposite of everything else we've seen up until then. The image that this city is comparatively idyllic is called for. But why Israel? Why couldn't it have been, you know, anywhere else? I'd like to avoid dipping into the whole "Hollywood is run by Jews" tripe, and instead ask an honest question: Who is better at building big, concrete walls these days? The hysterical defenses Israel is known for would set them up better than anyone to erect gigantic barriers in a hurry.
Turkey, apparently, disagrees, and has changed all mentions of "Israel" to "Middle East" in the Arabic subtitles-- though it has been claimed that the subtitles came that way from the distributor. As I sadly can only recognize "no" and "Qatar" in Arabic, I cannot speak first hand as to whether that is the case here, but I haven't heard of anything that indicates so.
So what does it mean? Jerusalem does fall in the end, and specifically because of all that friendly singing together. It's a girl in a hijab that takes the microphone and amplifies that singing. Is the film trying to say that the Israelis are right to build a wall, and it would be best to simply keep to themselves and not try to help those left outside (as is presently the case)? Good fences make good neighbors!
Well, I've never been there, but I'm pretty sure Israelis sing, no matter what name they use for their god, and had even one of the IDF used that microphone (as would inevitably be the case) to give orders the zombies in this film are drawn to noise, no matter what its source.
The only cohort to survive the film with Gerry is an IDF soldier-- and a female one at that! She does, however, only survive (with a significant injury) because of his quick thinking and help. Her name is Segen ("just Segen" she says when asked if it is her first or last name). I did some research to find if there is some meaning behind that, but have come up mostly empty. The German word segen translates to blessing, benediction; but that is German and this is an Israeli, so let's not put too much faith into that. Israel is really just a stop in a big, globe-trotting adventure.
So I don't know, really. I love to find metaphors and deconstruct societal issues hidden in films, but this one is just too big and fast and complex to do so. Zombie films are often a Trojan Horse for societal issues, but Shaun of the Dead is far more straightforward in that respect.
What with the opening sequence going from happy, simple life to shots of talk shows and families ignoring each other for their phones, and then going to shots of animals tearing each other apart, one could say this is a message to keep things simple, to focus on each other instead of ourselves. One scientist says of the sickness "the airplanes were perfect delivery systems" so you could say this is a message against globalization. The thing with that, is that airplanes wouldn't be perfect delivery systems in this case, as the transformation takes you over 12 seconds after being infected. Airplanes are perfect delivery systems for illness in general, but one that immediately turns a person into a rabid monster would spread through an airplane and likely down it within minutes, so it is hard to even believe that all corners of the world would be reached so immediately. Errors in science really bother me in films.
A big budget creature film that did a good job as a creature film and as a completely undeniable message vector was District 9.
In the end, I'd rather enjoy World War Z for what it is-- a tense zombie film that yet manages not to be very gory.
The Thursday morning screening of World War Z in Doha was more crowded than any other I have been to, the early shows on the first day usually deserted save for me and my notebook. "Crowded," of course, meaning maybe 50 people, all told. Still, that's something.
This film has had a lot of chatter about it for a long time, mostly because the production was plagued with problems from the beginning through to its (delayed) release. Of course, the number of my fellow cinema-goers yesterday that pay any attention to film blogs is probably nil. At any rate, I went into the theater with well-tempered expectations.
As for the movie as a movie, it was pretty good. Anyway, better than I had expected based on everything I have read about the production. If you're interested in knowing more about what I thought of it on the surface, please check out my review via Doha Film Institute. This, however, is for everything else that has been percolating in my head about the film-- mostly, the politics.
Producer/Star (Starducer?) Brad Pitt has been very forthcoming on the fact that is isn't really a zombie film, but "a Trojan Horse for sociopolitical problems." So, of course, I was keeping a keen eye peeled (from between my fingers) to hidden-- or not so hidden-- meanings. As I was taking in this film in a cinema deep in the Middle East and as I am hyper-aware of possible cultural clashes, I admit that I winced when it was announced that Pitt's UN investigator character, Gerry, had to go to Jerusalem to find answers.
In Jerusalem, they built a wall. To keep out the
This is a serious wall. Hundreds of feet high. Gerry asks why they built it, as it was finished just in time for things to go globally pear-shaped, and the Israeli official he is there to visit tells him that they intercepted a communique from India of people fighting what translated to zombies. He explains that everyone insisted it had to be code for something, but "when 9 people think one thing, it is the job of the 10th to disagree." The 10th person figured zombies meant zombies, and they built a ginormous wall to keep them out.
But, as Gerry says with some surprise as he visits, they're letting people in. "The less zombies to fight," comes the answer. And they do let in Muslims as well as Hebrews-- in fact, they pray side by side. More than that, they sing and clap and cheer, overjoyed at being saved by this city that has become, it seems, the last bastion of safety and normalcy in the world. A young Muslim girl takes a microphone from someone with a smile and starts to sing over the PA system. Everyone joins in, despite race or religion, creating a beautiful scene of humanity coming together and an ever bigger racket, which, though Gerry seems to have completely forgotten as he stands in the midst of it chatting, attracts the zombies. The amplified noise turns the frantic but previously unfocused monsters outside towards a common target, and although they do not so much work together as crawl over each other to be the first to feast, gigantic, writhing columns of Zeke form against the outside of the wall, and only moments later the first tumbles over into the crowd below, quickly leading to the destruction of Jerusalem. On the last flight out, Gerry looks down with a heavy sigh at carnage raging below, the Dome of the Rock just moving out of the frame of the window.
So that'll teach you.
Some have called for World War Z to be boycotted because it shows Israel and Mossad in such a good light, but I don't know that it necessarily does that-- or, at least, any moreso than called for. Yes, as Gerry arrives the flag of Israel flaps proudly against a blue sky, backlit by the sun. The city is shown to be calm, peaceful, the opposite of everything else we've seen up until then. The image that this city is comparatively idyllic is called for. But why Israel? Why couldn't it have been, you know, anywhere else? I'd like to avoid dipping into the whole "Hollywood is run by Jews" tripe, and instead ask an honest question: Who is better at building big, concrete walls these days? The hysterical defenses Israel is known for would set them up better than anyone to erect gigantic barriers in a hurry.
Turkey, apparently, disagrees, and has changed all mentions of "Israel" to "Middle East" in the Arabic subtitles-- though it has been claimed that the subtitles came that way from the distributor. As I sadly can only recognize "no" and "Qatar" in Arabic, I cannot speak first hand as to whether that is the case here, but I haven't heard of anything that indicates so.
So what does it mean? Jerusalem does fall in the end, and specifically because of all that friendly singing together. It's a girl in a hijab that takes the microphone and amplifies that singing. Is the film trying to say that the Israelis are right to build a wall, and it would be best to simply keep to themselves and not try to help those left outside (as is presently the case)? Good fences make good neighbors!
Well, I've never been there, but I'm pretty sure Israelis sing, no matter what name they use for their god, and had even one of the IDF used that microphone (as would inevitably be the case) to give orders the zombies in this film are drawn to noise, no matter what its source.
The only cohort to survive the film with Gerry is an IDF soldier-- and a female one at that! She does, however, only survive (with a significant injury) because of his quick thinking and help. Her name is Segen ("just Segen" she says when asked if it is her first or last name). I did some research to find if there is some meaning behind that, but have come up mostly empty. The German word segen translates to blessing, benediction; but that is German and this is an Israeli, so let's not put too much faith into that. Israel is really just a stop in a big, globe-trotting adventure.
So I don't know, really. I love to find metaphors and deconstruct societal issues hidden in films, but this one is just too big and fast and complex to do so. Zombie films are often a Trojan Horse for societal issues, but Shaun of the Dead is far more straightforward in that respect.
What with the opening sequence going from happy, simple life to shots of talk shows and families ignoring each other for their phones, and then going to shots of animals tearing each other apart, one could say this is a message to keep things simple, to focus on each other instead of ourselves. One scientist says of the sickness "the airplanes were perfect delivery systems" so you could say this is a message against globalization. The thing with that, is that airplanes wouldn't be perfect delivery systems in this case, as the transformation takes you over 12 seconds after being infected. Airplanes are perfect delivery systems for illness in general, but one that immediately turns a person into a rabid monster would spread through an airplane and likely down it within minutes, so it is hard to even believe that all corners of the world would be reached so immediately. Errors in science really bother me in films.
A big budget creature film that did a good job as a creature film and as a completely undeniable message vector was District 9.
In the end, I'd rather enjoy World War Z for what it is-- a tense zombie film that yet manages not to be very gory.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Guide to Motoring in Qatar
Driving in Doha is not as straightforward as most counties. After several months I feel I've gotten a good handle on things and thought I would put together some handy tips for anyone who may ever have a need to get behind the wheel here.
On choosing your equipment: 4x4s are best, the larger the better. Gas costs the equivalent of roughly 77 cents per gallon, so fuel economy should be of no concern.
Though this culture takes quite a bit of influence from the Brits, driving is done on the right side of the road, though it is not uncommon to see someone who has decided to go against the flow, as it were.
Roundabouts are very common. Unless you have a green light, yield to those already in the roundabout, but do your best to retain momentum and join with the flow. There are typically three lanes: the right lane is for turning right or going straight, the left is for turning left or making a U-turn, and the middle is for going straight, however, many drivers prefer to invert this. For this reason, it is best to hold off on blinking until you have safely exited the roundabout.
Those dotted white lines going down the road are merely a suggestion, do not feel constrained by them at any time.
Sidewalks and medians are really synonymous with roads; if traffic has stopped for more than a few seconds, feel free to hop a curb and simply make your own path. This is where driving a 4x4 comes in especially handy.
Based upon the two previous rules of the Qatari road, there are roughly twice as many lanes of travel as one would expect, based upon the road markings.
When merging or changing lanes, it is the responsibility of those already in the desired lane to make room when you decide to join them. Most especially if you turn on your blinker, do not bother checking your mirrors before making your move.
Police generally drive Land Rovers, 5 Series BMWs, and BMW motorcycles. There are a minimum of three types of police: Special Police, which shepherd motorcades and block roads for them, are bright red. Traffic police, which are mostly found at roundabouts directing traffic turning rush hours, are white, blue and yellow. Normal police are white and black. However, none of these seem to actually pull over anyone, so do not be too concerned with any of them. Also, if any emergency personnel happen to be driving with lights and sirens do get out of the way, but feel free to join the convoy of vehicles inevitably following behind to make use of the open road.
Watch for cameras, which are placed at busy intersections and occasionally in the median. This is the only time to watch your speed or be bothered by red lights. Qatar does have the highest traffic fines in the world, including more than $1000 for running a red light, so do be on the look out for these boxes.
Most intersections on main roads have two left-turn lanes, which are separated from the main road by a curb. U-turns are perfectly acceptable, but please do so from the inner-most turn lane; though if you happen to be in the outer lane, no biggie. Also, feel free to rejoin the traffic going straight on, if you should change your mind.
Flashing of high-beams is common, and generally means "get the hell out of my way." It is best to be highly responsive to these requests, as the faster car behind you is not inclined to slow down. Feel free to use this method as well as your horn liberally, even (and perhaps especially) if there is no place for anyone to go.
Dogs are not the only animals who like to go for a ride. Falcons and even large cats such as jaguars and cheetahs can be spotted in passenger vehicles.
As for the interior of the vehicle, no not bother with seat belts. The best place for your children to ride is in the driver's lap (infants), standing in the passenger footwell (toddlers), in the boot of your SUV (older children), or hanging out the windows of the backseat (all ages). If there is any reason to celebrate, i.e. National Day, place them on your roof. Occupancy limits are really non-existent. A small extended-cab pickup truck can accommodate a driver and 8 children. The boot of an SUV alone can fit 6.
I hope that this list of tips will prove useful.
On choosing your equipment: 4x4s are best, the larger the better. Gas costs the equivalent of roughly 77 cents per gallon, so fuel economy should be of no concern.
Though this culture takes quite a bit of influence from the Brits, driving is done on the right side of the road, though it is not uncommon to see someone who has decided to go against the flow, as it were.
Roundabouts are very common. Unless you have a green light, yield to those already in the roundabout, but do your best to retain momentum and join with the flow. There are typically three lanes: the right lane is for turning right or going straight, the left is for turning left or making a U-turn, and the middle is for going straight, however, many drivers prefer to invert this. For this reason, it is best to hold off on blinking until you have safely exited the roundabout.
Those dotted white lines going down the road are merely a suggestion, do not feel constrained by them at any time.
Sidewalks and medians are really synonymous with roads; if traffic has stopped for more than a few seconds, feel free to hop a curb and simply make your own path. This is where driving a 4x4 comes in especially handy.
Based upon the two previous rules of the Qatari road, there are roughly twice as many lanes of travel as one would expect, based upon the road markings.
When merging or changing lanes, it is the responsibility of those already in the desired lane to make room when you decide to join them. Most especially if you turn on your blinker, do not bother checking your mirrors before making your move.
Police generally drive Land Rovers, 5 Series BMWs, and BMW motorcycles. There are a minimum of three types of police: Special Police, which shepherd motorcades and block roads for them, are bright red. Traffic police, which are mostly found at roundabouts directing traffic turning rush hours, are white, blue and yellow. Normal police are white and black. However, none of these seem to actually pull over anyone, so do not be too concerned with any of them. Also, if any emergency personnel happen to be driving with lights and sirens do get out of the way, but feel free to join the convoy of vehicles inevitably following behind to make use of the open road.
Watch for cameras, which are placed at busy intersections and occasionally in the median. This is the only time to watch your speed or be bothered by red lights. Qatar does have the highest traffic fines in the world, including more than $1000 for running a red light, so do be on the look out for these boxes.
Most intersections on main roads have two left-turn lanes, which are separated from the main road by a curb. U-turns are perfectly acceptable, but please do so from the inner-most turn lane; though if you happen to be in the outer lane, no biggie. Also, feel free to rejoin the traffic going straight on, if you should change your mind.
Flashing of high-beams is common, and generally means "get the hell out of my way." It is best to be highly responsive to these requests, as the faster car behind you is not inclined to slow down. Feel free to use this method as well as your horn liberally, even (and perhaps especially) if there is no place for anyone to go.
Dogs are not the only animals who like to go for a ride. Falcons and even large cats such as jaguars and cheetahs can be spotted in passenger vehicles.
As for the interior of the vehicle, no not bother with seat belts. The best place for your children to ride is in the driver's lap (infants), standing in the passenger footwell (toddlers), in the boot of your SUV (older children), or hanging out the windows of the backseat (all ages). If there is any reason to celebrate, i.e. National Day, place them on your roof. Occupancy limits are really non-existent. A small extended-cab pickup truck can accommodate a driver and 8 children. The boot of an SUV alone can fit 6.
I hope that this list of tips will prove useful.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Great Doha Debacle
Oh, how frustrating settling here is. Of course, this is the first time I've started over completely in a new country (and very different culture), so I suppose it is not out of the ordinary. Still, though, it would be nice if it were a bit easier.
To begin with, of course, we had to enter under a tourist visa, because for some reason, Chandler's work visa got hung up. That put him behind the others in beginning the Residence Permit process. After much stress, he managed to get caught up, and yesterday finally received the all-important RP. While Americans generally have to go through driving courses and take a test to be awarded a driver's license here, he was fortunate enough to run into someone who was able to take him before a Sheik, who, by signing something, allowed him to avoid that whole process. Now the RP process can begin for me and Cricket. This includes a chest x-ray, a blood test, a blood-typing, and fingerprinting. And, hopefully, I will be able to also skip the driving mess.
It seems as if we have looked at a hundred different housing options, some of which were almost perfect, but always missing some important piece. Though it has, reportedly, come down quite a bit in price in the last year or two, housing is wildly expensive here. We have been looking at options with monthly rent between 11K-18K a month, which roughly translates to 3-5 thousand dollars. Yes, the highest-priced option was absolutely luxurious, with one of the most beautiful views in the world, but below that things quickly get downright shoddy. Thankfully, the company provides 10K a month in a housing allowance, which helps a great deal. Four times we were quite ready to sign the papers, but in the end we have finally settled on a compound villa. There are certain drawbacks-- it is quite far from downtown, so it will be difficult for me to pop down to the Corniche to run or ride, or make a quick trip to Souq Waqif. The upsides are that it is a brand new compound, absolutely full of kids, nice amenities, close to Cricket's school and the nicest mall in the area (not to mention a Krispy Kreme), and we will literally be right across the street from a coworker who has an 8 year old daughter who will be attending the same school. And, inshallah, our conjoined-balcony neighbor will be another coworker. Once bills are factored in, it will likely be at the top of the price range, but the perks should be worth it. Hopefully we will be able to move in at the beginning of next week! FINALLY, out of the Ezdan! If I could ululate in print (or, you know, at all) I would!
As for cars, the progress is slightly lagging. In less than two weeks our work-paid rentals will end. When we haven't been looking at villas or apartments, it seems, we have been visiting dealerships. The banks here really force you towards new cars-- as if the absolute automotive torture we saw during the World Cup celebrations wouldn't do that on its own. Our bank, QNB (which we were ushered to because they will be a sponsor next year), does not offer loans for cars older than three model years. So, when we found a "certified" 2007 Volvo XC-90 at a fantastic price and with low mileage (or, would it be kilometage?) , it was a no go. With some poking around, we were able to find a bank that WOULD loan for such a fantastically old car, but, as Chandler pointed out, if we leave here even in as little as three years and want to sell it, no one will be able to get a loan. The two new cars that were at the top of our list were an FJ-Cruiser and a four door Wrangler, which are similar prices. We were ready to agree on an FJ when we did the math and discovered, while they sell for $25K in the States, the price here translates to $10K more. Chandler has a dream truck (the Ford Raptor, which a good friend tuned and then raced, stock, in the Baja 1000) and I, of course, am drooling over another Evo, and though we could technically afford them, we are slightly more rational than that... look what having a kid will do to you. So at the top of our lists are now Kias and Hyundais. We figure we'll go for cheaper cars and be able to get two, rather than share a very nice one. Of course, nothing being easy, the bank will not give a loan until your first paycheck is deposited, and that is not scheduled to happen until the end of the month-- which would force everyone to stay in temporary housing and pay for rental cars after our first month is up. But, after much pressure, it sounds as if the company will give everyone their December pay early so we can attempt to get settled. Further frustrating (and constraining) is the fact that they pay for the days Chandler worked here in November has been in limbo for almost two weeks-- turns out the UK bank sent it to our US bank in Qatari Riyals, which they refuse to deal in, and rejected. The UK bank, however, didn't think to alert the company. Hopefully it will arrive in our QNB account shortly.
While it is frustrating, all that goes in to settling down, when most companies just provide it all for their employees, I met a woman by the pool the other day who moved here from Texas with her two young children when her husband got a job in the government, and they have no allowances at all for housing or cars or school. So yes, I am, in the end, very thankful.
To begin with, of course, we had to enter under a tourist visa, because for some reason, Chandler's work visa got hung up. That put him behind the others in beginning the Residence Permit process. After much stress, he managed to get caught up, and yesterday finally received the all-important RP. While Americans generally have to go through driving courses and take a test to be awarded a driver's license here, he was fortunate enough to run into someone who was able to take him before a Sheik, who, by signing something, allowed him to avoid that whole process. Now the RP process can begin for me and Cricket. This includes a chest x-ray, a blood test, a blood-typing, and fingerprinting. And, hopefully, I will be able to also skip the driving mess.
It seems as if we have looked at a hundred different housing options, some of which were almost perfect, but always missing some important piece. Though it has, reportedly, come down quite a bit in price in the last year or two, housing is wildly expensive here. We have been looking at options with monthly rent between 11K-18K a month, which roughly translates to 3-5 thousand dollars. Yes, the highest-priced option was absolutely luxurious, with one of the most beautiful views in the world, but below that things quickly get downright shoddy. Thankfully, the company provides 10K a month in a housing allowance, which helps a great deal. Four times we were quite ready to sign the papers, but in the end we have finally settled on a compound villa. There are certain drawbacks-- it is quite far from downtown, so it will be difficult for me to pop down to the Corniche to run or ride, or make a quick trip to Souq Waqif. The upsides are that it is a brand new compound, absolutely full of kids, nice amenities, close to Cricket's school and the nicest mall in the area (not to mention a Krispy Kreme), and we will literally be right across the street from a coworker who has an 8 year old daughter who will be attending the same school. And, inshallah, our conjoined-balcony neighbor will be another coworker. Once bills are factored in, it will likely be at the top of the price range, but the perks should be worth it. Hopefully we will be able to move in at the beginning of next week! FINALLY, out of the Ezdan! If I could ululate in print (or, you know, at all) I would!
As for cars, the progress is slightly lagging. In less than two weeks our work-paid rentals will end. When we haven't been looking at villas or apartments, it seems, we have been visiting dealerships. The banks here really force you towards new cars-- as if the absolute automotive torture we saw during the World Cup celebrations wouldn't do that on its own. Our bank, QNB (which we were ushered to because they will be a sponsor next year), does not offer loans for cars older than three model years. So, when we found a "certified" 2007 Volvo XC-90 at a fantastic price and with low mileage (or, would it be kilometage?) , it was a no go. With some poking around, we were able to find a bank that WOULD loan for such a fantastically old car, but, as Chandler pointed out, if we leave here even in as little as three years and want to sell it, no one will be able to get a loan. The two new cars that were at the top of our list were an FJ-Cruiser and a four door Wrangler, which are similar prices. We were ready to agree on an FJ when we did the math and discovered, while they sell for $25K in the States, the price here translates to $10K more. Chandler has a dream truck (the Ford Raptor, which a good friend tuned and then raced, stock, in the Baja 1000) and I, of course, am drooling over another Evo, and though we could technically afford them, we are slightly more rational than that... look what having a kid will do to you. So at the top of our lists are now Kias and Hyundais. We figure we'll go for cheaper cars and be able to get two, rather than share a very nice one. Of course, nothing being easy, the bank will not give a loan until your first paycheck is deposited, and that is not scheduled to happen until the end of the month-- which would force everyone to stay in temporary housing and pay for rental cars after our first month is up. But, after much pressure, it sounds as if the company will give everyone their December pay early so we can attempt to get settled. Further frustrating (and constraining) is the fact that they pay for the days Chandler worked here in November has been in limbo for almost two weeks-- turns out the UK bank sent it to our US bank in Qatari Riyals, which they refuse to deal in, and rejected. The UK bank, however, didn't think to alert the company. Hopefully it will arrive in our QNB account shortly.
While it is frustrating, all that goes in to settling down, when most companies just provide it all for their employees, I met a woman by the pool the other day who moved here from Texas with her two young children when her husband got a job in the government, and they have no allowances at all for housing or cars or school. So yes, I am, in the end, very thankful.
Friday, December 3, 2010
The Big Announcement
Though I have been in Doha for less than two weeks, my heart was fully behind the Qatari bid for the 2022 World Cup. While it is far more likely that I will be in one of the other bidding nations in twelve years, such as the US or UK, I wanted it for this little emirate. It is already amazing what they have done and are doing here, and I'm excited to see what they will do in preparation for such a tourney.
Some of the Williams office went to Souq Waqif to view the announcement, others went to the Aspire Zone-- both of which had large screens set up. I would have liked to do the same, but we had plans for others to come to dinner. So we were in our room in the Ezdan, and I was on pins and needles awaiting the announcement. When the note card with "Qatar" written upon it was pulled from the envelope both Chandler and I let out a great cheer.
Instead of going to a Christmas bazaar as planned, I chose to tag along with Max and an Italian visiting to help the team to the Corniche to soak up the atmosphere. We headed towards the bay from City Center, walking on the side of the street, where traffic was crawling. The pavement was covered with streamers and confetti. Everyone was out, everyone was honking and waving flags and hanging out of windows and sun roofs, even sitting on top of cars as they drove. Music was pumping, vuvuzelas were blaring, people was cheering. Mostly it was men, but a woman riding in the backseat of one SUV spotted me, pulled down her niqab to show a bright smile, flashed the victory sign, and then quickly replaced the veil.
There did not seem to be any official fireworks, but occasionally someone would shoot a mortar into the sky above the street. The Sheraton projected "YES QATAR 2022" onto its front. Police were out in force: the regular police, motorcycle police, traffic police and the special police, who drive red SUVs and accompany motorcades (this might sound odd, but you seem to come across at least one a day here). They stood in the road to direct traffic, some annoyed with the revelry, some just annoyed that they were not able to be a part of it all. Several buses lumbered slowly through the mess, filled with workers or shoppers, none of whom seemed to be in a celebratory mood.
Once we made it to the proper Corniche walkway we found it more sparse than expected, but there were many clusters of women sitting quietly on the grass, watching the scene and keeping the children as the men rejoiced.
Many motorcycles began to join the flow, shooting between the lanes of slow traffic, doing outrageous burnouts, flaunting high-speed wheelies when able. Even children were seated on top of cars as they drove along. Some men full stood upon the roofs of cars that were driving swiftly. Those for whom honking was not sufficient revved their engines relentlessly, causing backfires and making me cringe. The air became heavy with the smell of oil and burning rubber as impressively opaque clouds from burnouts grew and floated in the light breeze.
Even now, at 2am on the weekly holy day for Muslims, the party seems to have hardly diminished down on the street.
Twelve years is a long time away, but I am excited to watch this amazing little place prepare, and I hope to return for the games-- to see how it all has changed, and honor the fact that I was here on the night when Doha was, unequivocally, the most excited city on the planet.
Some of the Williams office went to Souq Waqif to view the announcement, others went to the Aspire Zone-- both of which had large screens set up. I would have liked to do the same, but we had plans for others to come to dinner. So we were in our room in the Ezdan, and I was on pins and needles awaiting the announcement. When the note card with "Qatar" written upon it was pulled from the envelope both Chandler and I let out a great cheer.
Instead of going to a Christmas bazaar as planned, I chose to tag along with Max and an Italian visiting to help the team to the Corniche to soak up the atmosphere. We headed towards the bay from City Center, walking on the side of the street, where traffic was crawling. The pavement was covered with streamers and confetti. Everyone was out, everyone was honking and waving flags and hanging out of windows and sun roofs, even sitting on top of cars as they drove. Music was pumping, vuvuzelas were blaring, people was cheering. Mostly it was men, but a woman riding in the backseat of one SUV spotted me, pulled down her niqab to show a bright smile, flashed the victory sign, and then quickly replaced the veil.
There did not seem to be any official fireworks, but occasionally someone would shoot a mortar into the sky above the street. The Sheraton projected "YES QATAR 2022" onto its front. Police were out in force: the regular police, motorcycle police, traffic police and the special police, who drive red SUVs and accompany motorcades (this might sound odd, but you seem to come across at least one a day here). They stood in the road to direct traffic, some annoyed with the revelry, some just annoyed that they were not able to be a part of it all. Several buses lumbered slowly through the mess, filled with workers or shoppers, none of whom seemed to be in a celebratory mood.
Once we made it to the proper Corniche walkway we found it more sparse than expected, but there were many clusters of women sitting quietly on the grass, watching the scene and keeping the children as the men rejoiced.
Many motorcycles began to join the flow, shooting between the lanes of slow traffic, doing outrageous burnouts, flaunting high-speed wheelies when able. Even children were seated on top of cars as they drove along. Some men full stood upon the roofs of cars that were driving swiftly. Those for whom honking was not sufficient revved their engines relentlessly, causing backfires and making me cringe. The air became heavy with the smell of oil and burning rubber as impressively opaque clouds from burnouts grew and floated in the light breeze.
Even now, at 2am on the weekly holy day for Muslims, the party seems to have hardly diminished down on the street.
Twelve years is a long time away, but I am excited to watch this amazing little place prepare, and I hope to return for the games-- to see how it all has changed, and honor the fact that I was here on the night when Doha was, unequivocally, the most excited city on the planet.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
First Week
On our first full day in Doha, we walked down the Corniche towards the Sheraton to see the last round of Powerboat racing with Max. Funny-- they race every year in Detroit, but we never saw them there. The water in the bay is a beautiful blue-green color, and the tiny island in the middle--empty but for one small tree-- somehow looks like paradise.
There were people of all nationalities out, walking along or lounging in the grass beneath the palm trees. Certainly those in traditional dress made up the majority, but one does not feel out of place as a Westerner. I really do not understand how the native women stand it in their full black abayas-- sometimes so much as covering my shoulders and elbows makes me swelter. The women here do not seem to be at all mistreated, quite the opposite, but the fact that the men get to wear white while the women wear black in this climate certainly reeks of ancient misogyny.
There was a children's area set up with activities, inflatables and entertainment. We spotted free camel rides and took Cricket over to take advantage. She had been telling everyone for weeks she would ride a camel when she moved, and less than 24-hours in, she made good.
The work week here is Sunday through Thursday. On Monday, Chandler's work visa finally came through (we had to enter under a tourist visa), so he could finally begin the many steps necessary to receive a residence permit. The full suite at QSTP is not ready for the team, and even the most basic equipment did not arrive on time from the UK, so the work that could be done for the first week was limited. By Thursday, though, he was nearly caught up in the RP process with the rest of the team, but the pads of his fingers were too torn up to be fingerprinted, and so that last step must wait until they recover.
We have looked at many rental properties, both compound villas and apartments. Several are tantalizingly close to perfection, yet each has some big chunk of restriction-- only available fully furnished, pool and gym not finished, etc. Many of the compounds have nice facilities, but the villas themselves are poorly laid out and terribly dark inside. It seems that finding housing with the right ratio of all the necessities is going to be very hard.
Everyone is quite keen on getting out of the hotel as soon as possible-- though advertised as "four star," the Ezdan would be lucky to break two. Lights burn out, suds come up through the floor drain when the bathroom sink is used, the TV in the bedroom has a huge crack in its screen, circuits trip in the middle of the night, the fire alarm goes off briefly every few days, the elevators get stuck, the garbage chute is for some reason unusable and so trash piles up, and perhaps worst of all, the only music played in common areas is Celine Dion!
There were people of all nationalities out, walking along or lounging in the grass beneath the palm trees. Certainly those in traditional dress made up the majority, but one does not feel out of place as a Westerner. I really do not understand how the native women stand it in their full black abayas-- sometimes so much as covering my shoulders and elbows makes me swelter. The women here do not seem to be at all mistreated, quite the opposite, but the fact that the men get to wear white while the women wear black in this climate certainly reeks of ancient misogyny.
There was a children's area set up with activities, inflatables and entertainment. We spotted free camel rides and took Cricket over to take advantage. She had been telling everyone for weeks she would ride a camel when she moved, and less than 24-hours in, she made good.
The work week here is Sunday through Thursday. On Monday, Chandler's work visa finally came through (we had to enter under a tourist visa), so he could finally begin the many steps necessary to receive a residence permit. The full suite at QSTP is not ready for the team, and even the most basic equipment did not arrive on time from the UK, so the work that could be done for the first week was limited. By Thursday, though, he was nearly caught up in the RP process with the rest of the team, but the pads of his fingers were too torn up to be fingerprinted, and so that last step must wait until they recover.
We have looked at many rental properties, both compound villas and apartments. Several are tantalizingly close to perfection, yet each has some big chunk of restriction-- only available fully furnished, pool and gym not finished, etc. Many of the compounds have nice facilities, but the villas themselves are poorly laid out and terribly dark inside. It seems that finding housing with the right ratio of all the necessities is going to be very hard.
Everyone is quite keen on getting out of the hotel as soon as possible-- though advertised as "four star," the Ezdan would be lucky to break two. Lights burn out, suds come up through the floor drain when the bathroom sink is used, the TV in the bedroom has a huge crack in its screen, circuits trip in the middle of the night, the fire alarm goes off briefly every few days, the elevators get stuck, the garbage chute is for some reason unusable and so trash piles up, and perhaps worst of all, the only music played in common areas is Celine Dion!
Friday, November 26, 2010
A Long Trip
We departed from Washington Dulles at night, flew through daylight, and landed in darkness. We checked seven suitcases and a large car seat. Having never been able to sleep on airplanes, I took a double dose of maximum-strength knockout drugs and still was only able to doze. Luckily, though, Cricket did not have the same problem and was unconscious for the majority of the flight. All in all, the fourteen hours were relatively painless. Our seats were just two rows from the back of the 777, and since deplaning is done from the front and back, we were in the first bus to depart for the terminal.
The same welcome service had been booked for us as during our summer trip, but things did not go nearly as smoothly. As we waited for the return of our passports the line to go through immigration emptied several times, and many other travelers came and went. Once we were able to advance through the airport, there were no porters available, so we had to collect and lug all of our own baggage. After doing this, we quickly found that there was no one from the hotel to transport us, as had been arraigned. We were taken to the welcome service's counter, but they did not know of the hotel and could not find the number. After some waiting, they did find it, but the hotel could not find any record of our stay, and so were no help. Twenty minutes later they found it, and said they would send someone. We sat and waited in a coffee shop, and after quite a while the driver appeared. They had been told we were coming in the previous day.
As we drove out of the airport, Cricket spotted a mosque and said "Look, a lid!" We told her it was called a dome and was part of a mosque, an Islamic church. She started right in with "No, you're a mosque!"
The hotel, Ezdan, looked quite impressive from the outside. It is made up of three very large buildings that look like old-school magnets, and at night they are outlined with color-changing LEDs. However, once we entered our room we quickly found that there is much to be desired. Still, it was nice to finally have arrived and be able to rest.
The same welcome service had been booked for us as during our summer trip, but things did not go nearly as smoothly. As we waited for the return of our passports the line to go through immigration emptied several times, and many other travelers came and went. Once we were able to advance through the airport, there were no porters available, so we had to collect and lug all of our own baggage. After doing this, we quickly found that there was no one from the hotel to transport us, as had been arraigned. We were taken to the welcome service's counter, but they did not know of the hotel and could not find the number. After some waiting, they did find it, but the hotel could not find any record of our stay, and so were no help. Twenty minutes later they found it, and said they would send someone. We sat and waited in a coffee shop, and after quite a while the driver appeared. They had been told we were coming in the previous day.
As we drove out of the airport, Cricket spotted a mosque and said "Look, a lid!" We told her it was called a dome and was part of a mosque, an Islamic church. She started right in with "No, you're a mosque!"
The hotel, Ezdan, looked quite impressive from the outside. It is made up of three very large buildings that look like old-school magnets, and at night they are outlined with color-changing LEDs. However, once we entered our room we quickly found that there is much to be desired. Still, it was nice to finally have arrived and be able to rest.
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