Dahl al Misfir and the Singing Dunes

When you look across the desert in Qatar, some parts look like they have been strewn with light-coloured rubble. The rubble is limestone from the middle Eocene period and is 48 - 45 million years old. Depressions have formed over time in some places in the limestone areas. The most spectacular of these is a big cave called Dahl al Misfir (the Cave of Brightness) which is south-west of Doha.

Yesterday we set off in Priscilla to join the South African social group to a trip to Dahl al Misfir and then onto a place called the "Singing Dunes" for a braai (that's barbeque in Kiwi) and desert sunset. Our South African friend Sharlene von Berg came along too, as well as a friend of the boys', Alex. There were 31 4WDs in the convoy. Lots of families; and I listened to Afrikaans being spoken all around me all day. Ian had that wonderful feeling yesterday that you have when all of a sudden you are not a foreigner any more; you are amongst your own kind and you understand the language nuances and humour, and they understand you.

Note the Arabic grafitti! The first I have ever seen.

As we left the cave we drove past the camp of a camel herder over the desert to the Singing Dunes. If you look closely at the photo, you might be able to see the two baby camels that were being cared for in a little enclosure.

The Singing Dunes are really special. They are gigantic crescent-shaped barchan sand dunes of fine sand that have formed on the limestone desert. The "singing" is a low-pitched hum that happens when friction occurs from a thin layer of sand flowing down the leeward side of the sand dune. According to my trusty Qatar guidebook, the "Marhaba", there are very few areas in the world where the sand produces such a sound. Musical sand needs exactly the right abrasive qualities, together with rather precise wind and moisture conditions, which luckily for us is present very close to where we currently live.

We climbed all over the dunes, and the boys raced down them and also had a go at sandboarding.

You can hear a distorted version of the sand singing in this little video clip:

Ian and I made our way down the face of the dune rather more sedately and less elegantly. If you shuffle down on your bottom, you set the sand off and are surrounded by what I can only describe as a primordial humming; a humming that vibrates through your whole body and that echoes around the crescent of the dune. It is the oddest and most ancient sound, like the earth singing to you.

We had a barbeque of boerewors and chicken kebabs, potato salad and Greek salad, chocolate brownie and arabic sweets. As we drank some wine, the boys played on the dunes and explored the desert around us. As you can see, they had a wonderful time:

It's sports Trev, but not as we know it

Robbie was selected for his school team for an interschool sports team. Puffed up with pride, Leo and I went to support him and his team. They were competing at a school called Qatar Academy, a most beautiful school with wonderful facilities in Education City, where the universities and research programmes are located in Doha.

The sports were very different to what we would have in NZ. Indoors, with a circuit set up and each individual school moving around the circuit doing an activity at each station. The points from each activity were given to the judges who added up the total from each school, and decided the winning school from the total points. So there was no actual competing between children from different schools in races. Leo and I were the only family support for the team - I don't think there is much of a culture of parents on the sports sideline here.

The "sports" included balancing skills, tossing little beanbags into a hoop, foam rubber "javelins", hop-skip-jump, dashing between two lines, and balancing on the spot. But it was active and the kids all gave it their best shots. So, different as it was, it was fun to see. Here are some photos of Robbie in action and of his school team:

The Inland Sea and Messaid Punturey

The last big adventure before Geoff goes back happened today - a trip through the desert to Khor al Adaid, otherwise known as the Inland Sea. The Inland Sea is the southernmost point of Qatar and borders Saudi Arabia. It is a shallow tidal lake joined to the sea by a narrow channel and surrounded by dramatic crescent-shaped sand dunes. We booked through a company called Gulf Adventures and had the best fun all day.

We met our tour guide, Abdul, at a local shopping mall where he picked us up in a Toyota Landcruiser. He's a most interesting character, born and raised in San Diego, USA. His father is Palestinian and his mother, Filipina. He is working here with his uncle, who manages Gulf Adventures. He has a shaved head, a long goatee, an infectious laugh and a completely laid-back approach to life.

He drove us down to Messaid where we had been quad bike riding only a couple of days ago. We met up with another group on the trip and as Abdul let some air out of the tyres in preparation for driving in the sand dunes, managed to grab a quick camel ride. There were hundreds of other 4WDs there, driving with abandon.

The ride through the dunes was simultaneously beautiful and adrenaline-filled; a roller coaster ride through a stark sculptured landscape. There were tyre marks on every part of every dune initially, but as we moved further south we moved out of the traffic. At one point we got stuck and the vehicle had to be dug out. Some guys turned up to help. When the vehicle was finally free and we were on our way again we asked who they were. "Oh, that's the manager of the company", said Abdul, "and also my uncle. I'm going to be singing the blues tomorrow!"

We arrived at the Khor al Adaid at sunset. The sun looked like a tangerine. As it sank towards the sea it turned pastel through the dust haze and slid imperceptibly past the horizon. We looked towards the Saudi border as darkness crept up on us.

We went back for dinner to a camp they have permanently set up. We sat on bedouin cushions in carpeted tents, then ate arabic food outside while a sea breeze cooled us and made the flares that lit the table flicker.

As we drove back to Doha, we stopped at Messaid to put some air back in the tyres. I noticed a most interesting kind of shop I had never seen before called Messaid Punturey. A tyre shop. "What's that?" I asked Abdul. "They will fix your flat tyres", he told me. I wish I'd known about Punturey shops last week. It would have saved me a lot of trouble when I needed my tyre repaired.

Geoff's Visit

We have had a breathless few days with Geoff's visit; very busy with lots of activities but with lots of time to catch up and talk about some important issues. The boys are so happy to see Geoff. Dina, who is Filipina and who does our cleaning and ironing, thinks it is hilarious: "Now you hab two husbands!" It has been good for all of us in the house; bittersweet for me because it reminds me that my time together being fulltime hands-on mummy for the boys will come to an end soon, bittersweet for Geoff because he has been missing the boys so much and his time with them this holiday is limited. We have not quite yet decided the date next year for the boys to return to New Zealand to live with Geoff. But our discussions have been open, honest and supportive of each other and, most importantly, centred around what is good for the boys. So I have full confidence that we can come up with some decisions that we can all live with and work with.

Here are some photos of what we have been getting up to:







Quad-biking in the desert near Messaid




























Ice skating in City Centre













A ride in a dhow around Doha Harbour

























































A trip to Souq Waqif. Here I am standing next to some of the biggest cooking pots in the universe.

We met a very interesting man who owned one of the shops in the souq. He was the first body builder in Qatar. He also used to be a pearl diver. Pearling was the main industry here before oil and gas was discovered. He was a most charming and dignified man, courteous and old-fashioned. We observed a succession of locals greeting him with great respect as they walked past his shop; clearly he is a well-known and loved identity.

Eid Al Fitr

Geoff arrived three days ago for his ten day stay with us, just as Ramadan finished and the three day holiday of Eid Al Fitr began. Eid Al Fitr is the festival of fast-breaking, and would be the closest thing to Christmas here. People give presents, buy new clothes and clean their houses from top to bottom in preparation for the official sighting of the new moon which marks the end of Ramadan.

Geoff arrived looking fit and tanned, but tired after his long flight from Perth. The boys were, and still are, so excited to see their father. We had a few things planned over the next few days and decided that the first night Geoff arrived was the only time we could go out and celebrate Eid in style. We all tucked ourselves up for a nap during the afternoon so that we could enjoy a long evening of food and entertainment at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. All except Leo, who decided that he didn't need to do that.





Geoff and the boys











This was Leo's evening









He slept through the entire meal











He did get to see the falcon that was with his young Qatari owner












But he missed seeing the Derwish dancer, who whirled on the spot for so long, I don't know how he didn't collapse. The dance was originally a form of worship by a Muslim sect and the whirling put the dancers into a trance state. The version we saw was accompanied by a Muslim song of praise, but was nonetheless more geared to entertainment. It was spectacular.














We had a Lebanese band which sang some rousing songs and a lovely meal in a setting that was really like 1001 nights. A lot of locals were there eating and smoking shisha. A small group of sheikhs sat like mountains on a platform at one end of the room. Our waiter told us that they had come to the hotel every night for the month of Ramadan.

I can only guess how surreal it must have felt for Geoff who has come from working in the outback of Western Australia and cooking in a camp oven.

The Doha Phenomenon

There's a strange phenomenon about living in Doha. Any new task you need to do, different product or service you need to buy, or new place you need to go to can be unfeasibly difficult. There are few street names, and anyway people never use them and instead navigate by landmarks or roundabouts which all have their own names. As well, all streets seem to be simultaneously under construction or reconstruction and so a new map you buy today is likely to be already out of date. It is hard to track down a phone book. Names of businesses change. Prices are not fixed. Everything is word of mouth. Customer service is polite but ineffectual. There is no postal delivery service. And it's hot so you often feel uncomfortable when you are trying to work it all out. If you are someone who needs everything to be written down and stable, better to live somewhere else. Strangely it all sort of works and you get used to it but there are some days when it all seems chaotic and frustrating. Yet people here can be extraordinarily charming, kind and helpful. Yesterday was a fine example of the Doha Phenomenon.

It started when I went to visit a new friend, Leila. She's a lovely Lebanese Canadian. Her husband is called Ossama, anglicised to Sam. He and Ian get on like a house on fire and when they talk they look comically like twins. These were the directions to their house: Go to Rayyan Municipality roundabout, turn left back towards Al Waab. Go to another roundabout, turn right. Pass an almost-completed 90 villa compound and turn right after the compound. Turn first left in front of a mosque onto a gravel road. Go to the end and bear left to the second to last villa at the end of a group of ten villas.

These directions are completely typical. Always followed by the contact number so that you can ring from your mobile when you get lost.

I nearly made it.

I ended up driving through an unexpected building site and calling Leila to talk me in to her house. Unfortunately just as I was near her house I hit a curb where a parking bay jutted out and my tyre went flat within three seconds. The wall of the tyre was ripped out. Leila came out and we were starting to figure out how all the tyre changing stuff worked. She had never changed a tyre in her entire life. Of course I hadn't practised tyre changing in my new car. But we got out the spare and had all the jack and tyre changing bits and pieces out and were just getting started.

Then all this wondrous help came out of the woodwork. A Qatari man pulled up behind us and walked over, resplendent in his snowy-white thoub (robe) and agool/gutra (headcloth and the black device that holds it on). He walked up to the front tyre. "Very bad," he said, "and this is no kind of work for ladies!" He set to work and refused any kind of assistance from us, or from the drivers of all the other multiple cars that pulled up and offered to help. "Thank-you so much, shukran jazila," I said. Leila was much more effusive. "Qatari people are so kind," she said, "and during such a special time of the year [ramadan]. Bless you, and bless your family." His agool and gutra came off and were put on the bonnet and at one stage he was sitting on the dirty pavement. When he finished, his thoub was dirty and he had a huge smudge of tyre rubber on his forehead and nose. "Your nose is dirty," I said when he finished, "and look at your clothes!" "I know," he twinkled, "I can see it when I look down. But it does not matter, I live very close." He took the tissue I offered and wiped his face and off he went. "Ma'asalaama!" Leila and I went back to her house to cool down before I went to pick up the kids from school.

When I got home I started trying to find out where to get a new tyre and if I needed to get a police report. There's a major holiday, Eid al Fitr, beginning on Saturday and I had one day to sort it out. After some clever sleuthing, I found the number of the Hyundai Service Centre in Doha. I was told to ring their Spare Parts Centre. Which wasn't open until 8pm, "Ramadan hours Ma'am." At 8pm I started again. I called the Spare Parts Centre. "What make of tyre is it, Ma'am?" I went out in the dark and peered at the tyre and could make out faint Arabic letters. "I can't tell you," I said, "but I need it fixed tomorrow. Please tell me how I can get my tyre fixed." "Do you have tyre warranty Ma'am. It should have been given to you with your new car papers." "No, I was not given any tyre warranty with my new car papers." "Well Ma'am," said the voice on the phone, "anyway you cannot get tyres from the Spare Parts Centre." "Where then," I asked with restraint, "can I go to get my tyre fixed?" "Madam, you need to go outside." Silent scream. "Can you give me the name of the outside place that will fix my tyre?" I asked. "Oh yes Ma'am. I have the number right here."

You just need to find the right question to ask.

I called the outside tyre place and asked where they were. "Just over the Jaidah Flyover Ma'am. Directly opposite Home Centre. You know Home Centre near Jaidah Flyover? You come now. It will be 500 riyals." Great. I know the area alright, right in the middle of massive ramadan evening traffic, ten minutes away during light traffic but three-quarters of an hour at that point in the day. Ian arrived home from work at that moment, just as I was feeling a bit tired. "No, absolutely not dorling. You are not going off in the middle of the night to get your tyre changed. Give me the keys."

It took him three-quarters of an hour to get there. The tyre place directly opposite the Home Centre was not the place I had been talking to. When Ian refused to have them fit a non-matching tyre to the car, they then pointed him towards the tyre shop he had been trying to get to. It was down an alley opposite Home Centre. But you could see Home Centre when you stood outside their shop. They efficiently fitted the proper tyre. "That will be 1,300 riyals," they said to Ian. He put on his Face of Thunder and used his Growly Voice. They checked with a Higher Authority. "That will be 380 riyals sir."

That's the sort of day I call the Doha Phenomenon.

New Qatar Traffic laws

Decree Number 19 for 2007 from the Emir brought in new traffic laws in Qatar on October 2. There are now real, written rules about what you can and can't do on the roads. There has been a lot of concern about the extremely high accident rate and it is hoped that the laws will address this. Here's a link to the actual laws and the penalties. My favourite traffic violation is rule number 46: "Getting busy with watching a TV inside the vehicle while driving".

It's an improvement on the previous situation. One of our friends, Ross, has been here for the last few months starting up a waste disposal business. They will need lots of trucks and truck drivers and six months ago he went in search of the road rules for Qatar. Ross tells this story. Nobody could give him a list of the road rules for Qatar and eventually he was sent to the place where truck drivers have to sit their Qatari truck driver licence. He stood beside one of the officials as the prospective truck drivers went through their paces and asked him if there was a set of printed rules he could have to give his drivers.

"There are none", Ross was told.

"Well, how do you know if the drivers you are testing are safe?" Ross asked.

"If they don't hit me or anyone else during the test, they are safe", was the reply.

Just at that moment a truck approached at speed and screeched to a halt inches away from the official with three squashed traffic cones being dragged along underneath.

"Pass!" said the official.

The new road rules must be pretty powerful. Two days after they came in there was an article in the Gulf Times quoting a marvellous statistic. 90% of all drivers were now obeying the new rules. We reckon on that day the 10% of disobedient drivers must have been driving around us in a tight formation.

South African Guestroom Specifications

Geoff arrives Friday morning for ten days with us. The boys are really excited about it and it's been a good spur to us to get our spare room sorted out into a nice guest room. We bought a garden shed and moved a whole lot of junk into it. Then the countdown started and the transformation of our spare room began. Ian is quite relentless when it comes to being a good host, everything has to look the part, quite different to my casual Kiwi approach.

The day before yesterday I went off to one of the home stores and bought a "bedroom pack" which consists of a big bag with a quilt, countless cushion covers and matching bed linen...and curtains! Which will go up today. All quite Arabic. I also bought white fluffy guest towels. It seems our current white fluffy towels aren't quite right. I also bought a lamp for $40 equivalent with a cute little elephant lamp base. When Ian saw it he announced that we would leave it behind when we left!

Yesterday I got a bathroom set and a white shower curtain. And some little twiggy decoration thingies for the bathroom shelf. Ian came home and pronounced it good, but "it just needs a little shelf dorling, a special place to put the towels in the bathroom". (!)

Today dorling will go and get a little shelf. After sunset, because it's ramadan.

Good grief is all I can say, but it does look nice.