Got Milk?

A glossy advertisement I saw today for a milk substitute:

Got Milk?
We don't...but we promise you won't get gout!
Sinloo Non-Dairy Milk products are made from 100% synthesised lactose
the perfect way to simulate an actual milk consumption experience.
Also works great as an adhesive!

Chi le ma?

Fast forward....and we're both in Beijing after a lovely long break in New Zealand seeing the boys and sorting out our affairs at home. We had a wonderful time catching up with old friends; missed out on a few friends sadly but fully intend to catch up next year!

Beijing is a lively, enterprising, sophisticated place, full of surprises. We've been learning the ropes; everything from how to do the supermarket shopping, catching taxis, going to a tailor, getting onto the local mobile network and bargaining at the market to the more involved skills like finding an apartment and, in Ian's case, getting to grips with the business environment in China.

Yesterday we treated ourselves to a day sightseeing. Ian's PA found us a friend of a friend who could act as our guide to take us to the Great Wall, to a hutong (small street where regular people live) and Silk Street, one of the big markets.

Our guide, Dong, picked us up at 8 o'clock and we drove north through the Beijing traffic to Badaling, where tourists go to see the Great Wall. Dong is in his early thirties, university qualified, and working as a national tourist guide, which means he is qualified to guide tourists around the whole of mainland China. His English was great, he was well-read, knowledgeable, opinionated, lively and open about his background and family. The day was a special one, mostly because of the personal communication we had with him. He grew up in the north, near the border of North Korea. "Chi le ma" is a a greeting that his mother uses, along with that generation that has known hunger. It means "Have you eaten?" We all really liked each other, so much so that he invited us to his place for dinner next weekend. Let's hope that it happens!

Some pics:








The Great Wall, stretching into the distance.










Our part of the Great Wall.















Ian got a medal which says, "I have climbed the Great Wall, Ian Hendeikse"










Ian and I with a group of off-duty soldiers. They are all aged 18-23, mostly from rural parts of China. After we had our photo taken with them one of them was heard to say to his companion, "Why did they want to have our photo taken with us"?








Our hostess at a specialist tea shop called "Dr Tea". She wore a nametag that said "Number 23". We bought some teas there and a special teaset. Its picture changes colour when you put hot tea into it.



















Of course we saw the Birdsnest.

When we arrived to take our hutong tour, we had just been discussing with Dong the English nicknames we have come across here that Chinese people have adopted - "Apple", "Cat", as well as some more conventional names.
"Hello, welcome to China! I am your tour guide", twinkled a lively young woman, "my name is Eleven!"
I'm sure I heard Dong gently snort beside us.

She rode beside our rickshaw on a bicycle, telling us the history and significance of the hutong. Her ambition is to be a national tour guide.

We had a padded rug put across our knees and off we went, past the people on the street corners playing cards and mahjong, past people coming out of the communal bathrooms with towels wrapped around their hair, past the bicycles and cars and the people going about their lives.

We were taken into a traditional hutong home, homes for the extended family grouped in a particular way around a central courtyard. We met Mr Zhang, whose family had lived in the compound for 72 years. He gave us tea and showed us old photos of his family, then told us to ask him any questions we wanted to. Pushing down a voyeuristic feeling I asked him if he had lived here during the Cultural Revolution. During this time in the 1960s land and homes were taken for redistribution in China. Mr Zhang was sent from his university studies to work on the land in the north of China for six years, and like other people of that generation, was unable to resume his studies. He worked in a factory for many years when he returned, but was able eventually to get a better job through his foster sister, who had been able to finish her studies prior to the 1960s. They were eventually able to repurchase their family home from the government, where his sister's family and his 91 year old father live still. Mr Zhang is retired now and was reserved, but courteous and warm. He told us he had visited New Zealand, where he particularly liked the geysers.

I'm Back!

Hi everyone - well my sincere apologies for the long gap - our life has been frantic for the last few months, with a lot of transitions and adjustments. We had two lovely special months when Garrick was here, and so all our blended family had time together. We had a lot of fun and did lots together. The guys all went back to New Zealand a month ago - Garrick to uni in Auckland to carry on his business studies; and Leo and Robbie to Ohope. They are back with their Dad and family and NZ friends and haven't missed a beat. We've - I've - had a huge and painful adjustment to being long-distance parents. We miss the guys a lot and are very grateful that technology helps to keep in touch so easily. We are very proud of them and how each of them are developing into outstanding young men; all differently talented, all loved and cherished by us.

And so on into the unknown future. Ian and I are on the move again. We found out a couple of days ago that we will be going to Beijing. Ian has had a Big Promotion within Worley Parsons and will be taking on a senior, China-wide management position transitioning from 1 September and taking on the full role in November. Because this new role is so Very Important, I need to leave my beloved Sidra and it looks very likely that I'll have to reinvent myself career-wise. This is an exciting-daunting prospect. I'm thinking something more portable and web-based; in the next few weeks I will be plotting and scheming about ways to build an empire while based in Beijing....Hey World! Watch this space!

We are very sad to leave our friends here. We have met a very special group of people who we are going to miss desperately and we very much want to stay in touch with them. In the same way we have each been privileged to work with an outstanding bunch of people from all over the world and will miss the people from our work lives also. We have learned a lot and feel blessed by our experience in Qatar.

So now we sort out and get ready to move. The household effects are going back to New Zealand so that we can rent out the Kauri Mountain house furnished. We plan to walk bravely forward out of here with only our suitcases to the next phase of our lives. We leave Qatar 15 August.

I will arrive in Whakatane on Monday 18 August and will have a car and will be staying in Pete and Kath Craig's little cottage. Ian will be in Whangarei and will fly down to Ohope on 23 August which is the following Saturday. We will stay until Thursday 28, then will go up to Auckland to have a couple of days with Garrick. Then Ian will go to China and on 30 August I will go to Melbourne to stay with Margie and then will come back to Ohope in 3-4 weeks. Then it will be back to NZ for more time with the boys and unpacking the furniture in Whangarei whenever it arrives on the ship ??mid October (maybe later). When all the furniture is unpacked then I will need to say my good-byes and go to Beijing.

The Best Laid Plans

We had a Doha moment the other night. On Thursday, the very night Ian and I were due to fly out to Carlie's wedding, we were doing some last minute shopping to ensure all the guys had the necessities while we were gone. Everything was organised. The boys knew what was happening, Garrick was taking charge, everyone was happy.

We were buying two sim cards at Carrefour, the local French supermarket - one for Garrick and one for Robbie. Of course there is quite a process to go through in order to buy something as important as a sim card. You have to take along two photocopies of your Resident ID card, one of the front and one of the back of the card, and fill out a form. I scurried around between all the places I had to go to and breathlessly presented my credentials at the phone stall in Carrefour, only to be told that my photocopy could not be accepted because my ID had just expired. Curses! I located Ian and the boys in one of the food aisles of dubious nourishment, borrowed Ian's ID and completed the transaction.

As I left the mall it dawned on me that if my ID was expired, then probably my Qatar visa was as well. We rang Abdul, the public relations officer from Ian's work, who has been helping us all along with government formalities. He told us that if we went home and my visa was also expired in my passport then I wouldn't be able to leave the country. Qatar is one of the places in the world where you not only need an entry visa, but you need an exit visa as well. To get the latter, you need the former.

It was a silent trip home on the way to my passport. How could I not have double checked? I thought about the times I had abandoned my visitors to shop for an outfit to wear to the wedding and wondered if I was going to get to wear it.

My visa had expired. We rang Abdul again.

"You definitely cannot leave the country. All the departments are closed for the weekend. But don't worry, I will be back on Sunday (the first day of the working week here) and will make sure your visa is renewed by the end of the day."

"Where are you, Abdul?"

"I am at Mecca. I am doing the hajj again. If you had rung me half an hour later you would have missed me. But don't worry, I will be back from Saudi Arabia by Sunday. You can still have your holiday OK? Just a little later."

Not OK. Not really. We couldn't get to Carlie and Gillon's wedding. But what could I do?
So we rebooked and rearranged everything. Insha'allah (God willing) the visa will be renewed today. We'll just extend our holiday a couple of days at the end. And we have had a bonus weekend, just us all at home together. So it's not all bad.

Bringing Oil to the Middle East

When Nana Shirley stayed, she was put to work sewing hockey bibs for Leo and Robbie's hockey team. As maintenance isn't my strong point, it was noted that my sewing machine had a terrible squeak. Shirley went home and contacted Charles and Kris before they came over - repeatedly - to ensure that some sewing machine oil was brought over to remedy the problem. When Kris arrived she commented that it is probably the only time in history that oil has been brought To the Middle East.


Here's the evidence Nana!











And here's a bunch of cuzzie photos.

A studio shot of the girls:














Frostie really enjoying having his photo taken:
Charles and Shirley:

And just because somehow Leo hasn't had a photo of himself on here for a while, here's one of him too.

Dunestock

We are having such a lovely time with visitors staying at the moment. Right now, Shirley, my cousin, and Frostie her husband are staying with us. They leave tomorrow just as our Garrick arrives to live with us and work here for two months before going back to uni in Auckland. Other cousins Charles and Kristen arrived early this morning and will stay until Thursday. Ian and I and the cuzzies will all meet in the UK at the end of this week for a special wedding - Shirley's daughter Carlie is getting married in Tunbridge Wells. So we are going around the souq, sightseeing, hitting the malls and generally trying to show everybody a good time. It's such fun and we feel so blessed to be able to see people we love, even though we live so far away now.

Yesterday was the long-awaited yearly event "Dunestock" - a music festival out in the desert at - where else - the singing dunes where local musicians strut their stuff in a fund-raiser for Doha Players, the local theatre company. We arranged to meet our lovely group of friends there, and an advance party of blokes went out to set up gazebos, place carpet on the sand, place chairs and tables and generally have a prime spot looking ready to party in style for the more gorgeous half of the group when we arrived three hours later at 2pm.

It should have been a clue to us when we couldn't see very far in front of us driving out there - a sandstorm had started and it looks like dusty fog if you look out of a window. If you are in the midst of it, it feels like you are being sandblasted in a very warm and gritty hurricane. However, full of optimism we pressed on, past the cars that were leaving the festival, on through the more hardy partygoers to our site.

We made a valiant attempt. We drank arabic coffee that Leyla brought along, climbed the singing dunes, caught up with just about everyone we knew, watched Leo and Robbie and Robbie's friend Shamus making their way around in their rainbow wigs, bought the teeshirt and generally prepared ourselves to have a good time. But then it started to unravel. One of the gazebos blew in and caught Leyla on the back of her head. Sand blew in our eyes. Grit filled our ears and mouth. The chairs blew over. We beat a strategic retreat to Jenny and Rob's house who let the disreputable, sand-encrusted crowd spread our picnic food on their pristine table and socialise the evening away in their lovely house, where the only hot air was the sound of the guys telling each other lies as fast as they could.

When Frostie quietly let it be known that he was short of breath and his voice was 4 octaves lower than normal, we said our farewells and whisked him off to Doha Clinic to see a doctor. He was given a nebuliser and slowly came right. Apparently going out in a sandstorm is the worst thing you can do if you have asthma. Apparently the clinic had hordes of people coming through with breathing problems yesterday.

Clare the Bear came to stay

At the same time as Salim was being born, the Watts came to stay with us. Clare is my best friend. We have known each other since we nursed together in the Woolavington wing of the Central Middlesex Hospital in London in 1987. We've seen each other through babies, bereavements, marriages (in my case), house moves, and various big old messy life events. She's one of the rocks in my life, always to be relied on for an honest opinion and a good laugh, and to be totally on my side. Jon, her husband is similarly wonderful, as are their kids, Tom, Georgie and Harry. I plan to live next door to them one day.

They arrived for the school holidays, only some of which I was able to take off unfortunately, but no worries, I hired the school bus and a driver and off they went around Qatar to look at everything. Leo and Robbie were the tour guides, so they told me.

The time with them was deeply deeply satisfying. Ian and Clare and Jon got on very well together, as did all the kids.

Salim's Kharoof

Three weeks ago I had the great privilege to be with our friends Racha and Tarek when they had their first baby. Salim was born by caesarian section, safe and well in Doha Clinic. Racha went home after a couple of days. Tarek and Hana, Racha's mother, looked after her. Salim is well and thriving.

Two weeks later Tarek announced he was going to have a kharoof (lamb) feast to celebrate Salim's arrival and as we have more room in our courtyard than they do, it was held at our place. As well as Racha, Tarek, Hana and Salim, there were our Canadian-Armenian-Israeli friends Abkar, Mervat, Sevan and Maral, and Tarek's Canadian cousin Zainab and her husband Ranea.

The kharoof arrived on a tray of fragrant rice. The tray was a metre and a half in diameter - I kid you not. And talking about kid, it turned out not to be lamb at all, but baby goat. From Saudi Arabia. It was absolutely delicious - another new experience here. We ate with our hands, straight off the tray, and ate and ate and ate. And then had Arabic sweets. And chocolates.

We then ate goat shepherd's pie for a couple of days.

Salim is the most adorable baby. We see him very regularly and fight over who will hold him. We're looking forward to seeing him get bigger and to be a part of his journey.

Robbie's 11th Birthday

Robbie had his 11th birthday party today with a bunch of friends; Seamus, Sean, Jared, Hassan, Ahmed, Rafiq, Madeleine, Erika and Huda. We had pass the parcel, a donut eating copetition, helium balloons with Mickey Mouse singing, lots of swimming in the pool (as it is 37*) and a movie at the end. And a birthday cake of course. And rainbow wigs, Robbie's own little quirky touch. He told us he was happy today. Doesn't he look cool?

Robbie's International Games

Last Thursday and Friday Robbie competed in an international school tournament - the British Schools of the Middle East tournament. There were fourteen schools competing, from Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Oman, UAE and so forth; the tournament was held right here in Qatar in a place called Al Khor about an hour from home. The kids were a great mixture of all cultures, all of whom attend English-speaking schools. In Robbie's school there are 52 different nationalities represented; the other schools I saw look similar.

Robbie had been selected to play in three of the four codes, athletics, soccer and basketball. He has been training for weeks - we have been arriving at school for 7am three days a week, and some days he has had five little training sessions.

He came third in the standing triple jump, and his basketball team reached the final and had a thrilling and close match. Park House School came fourth overall, which was a huge improvement compared to previous years, due competely I am sure to Robbie's presence in the team.
Here they are getting ready for the basketball tournament(above) and playing (below).

The stamps and the security black mark

I've been having a week or two of irritating Doha bureaucracy lately. I thought I was used to it and could now face all bureaucratic moments with serene calm these days, but last weekend I proved myself wrong.

It started in November with getting a police clearance from New Zealand, so that I can be taken on as a staff member at Sidra, rather than on the current contract basis. The police clearance, due to an unfeasibly slow mail journey, took a month to arrive in New Zealand. It got there just before Christmas, and then had an unfeasibly slow journey back to Qatar. It arrived in early February after I had lost all hope of it ever arriving at all. I took it triumphantly to our Immigration Officer, Ahmed, and did a little victory dance in his office. Ahmed, an immensely dignified character, looked at it coolly.

"There is no stamp," he said.
"What do you mean, 'stamp'?" I naively asked.
"You need a stamp from your embassy."

Of course, a stamp. Silly me. I went off to find a suitable embassy to stamp my police clearance, as the closest NZ embassy is in Saudi Arabia. After a bit of scouting, I found that the British Embassy would do it for me for QR255. Unfortunately they were just about to move into new premises and would not be open for ten days. I waited. I got it attested and got my stamp. I went back to Ahmed, triumphant again.

"I am very sorry, but the rules at CID have just changed," he said, "the police clearance has to be translated into Arabic before the CID will process it."

I was cool, calm and serene at this news.

"No problem," I said sweetly, "I'll take to the souq. They have lots of people there who can do this for me."

A look of horror crossed his face. I was talking about a little street of men with typewriters in Souq Waqif, who work out of closet-sized offices. A wee industry has sprung up here to take care of just this kind of problem.

"Let us take care of the translation," he said. "That will be QR20".

After the translation was done, he then broke the news that the translation needed a further stamp. I told him I was not going back to the British Embassy again, once was quite enough. He told me that they would take care of it, no problem, but it would cost me another QR255. Perhaps I might like to go there myself, and see if they would stamp it again for me, two for the price of one. Off I went to the British Embassy, or was it Fort Knox. It cost another QR255.
I think the British Embassy must have taken pity on me though, it came back so festooned with ribbons and stamps that I'm sure the CID will give my police clearance a very rapid passage.

Anyway after all this, last Saturday Leo, Robbie and I went over to Education City, where I work, to take advantage of their magnificent staff amenities. The boys were to play football with the sons of some of my workmates in one of the gyms, and I was going to do pilates with some friends. We were late. The only park was a gap in a row of illegally-parked cars, all of which had a sticker of shame on them warning them of their illegal parking and of the dire consequences if they did that again. Reasoning that the security guy wouldn't possibly have time to come around and put a sticker on my car in the short time we had left, I parked defiantly along with the rest of the bad people.

When we came out I had a sticker of shame. And the security guy was standing next to my car. I had to brazen it out.

"You have parked in the wrong place," he opened.
"I know," I said, picking off the sticker.

I felt quite mad all of a sudden. All this bureaucracy. Even though he was right. I crumpled up the sticker and threw it disdainfully in the car.

"And," he said, warming up, "why does your parking permit have a different number to your registration?"

Oh no. Busted. My fake photocopied parking permit. Suddenly I was really mad.

"Well!" I said evilly, "If it didn't take you you guys SIX WEEKS to get around to giving me a proper one, I wouldn't have to do these things!"

"I am going report you to the gate security," he said, "They will write down your registration number."

"Do that! Do that!" I shouted. I was almost gesticulating by this stage. "I will tell them just the same thing!"

I tossed my head and gathered the boys into the car and roared off.

The only problem is that I have to go back soon. I wonder if my registration number will be in their little black book.

Camel kisses

We have some lovely friends, Robert and Jenny, who we socialise with pretty regularly. I've been going through some old emails that I skimmed over when it was really busy over the Christmas period and found this wonderful general email from Robert, sent to us and other friends of theirs after they went to see a camel race. The email was so good I just had ask them if I could post it here, feeling a bit envious that I haven't been along to see it for myself yet. Maybe in October...

"Today I received sweet kisses from ...................... a camel.

Today we went on a field trip to the camel races with the Qatar Natural History Society. What an experience !!!!. There were about 150 people on the trip..................First we visited the saddling area where we received a talk on camels. Then we were allowed to touch and feed the racing camels ............ remember folks that a racing camel can cost as much as ZAR400,000. [South African Rand400,000 ~ NZ$64,000]......... but no problem for the owners .... they were very nice and encouraged us to interact with the camels. Part of the talk was about the temperament of camels and their reputation for spitting and biting people. The owners assured us that the temperament of a racing camel is very mild and that in fact they like to greet you “face to face” so to speak. Racing camels tend to be smaller than working camels. These camels are pampered ..... they get hand washed each day after training, not just a spray with a garden hose. The top class camels are shipped between the various Gulf states to participates in camel races. A SHORT camel race is 3 km with the average race being 5km or 8km. The Qatar camel racing season is from October to January with 5 or 6 races taking place each day of the week starting from 2 pm.

We were told that if you put your face forward, they will reach forward to smell and interact with you. So yours truly decided to try .............. see the photo .......... I leant forward and the camel responded ............I must tell you that they have a very hairy area (long whiskers that tickle) around their mouths but ............. ohhhhh ............ soft lips.

Very interesting ............. then on to the camel race track itself. Again, What an experience ............... the race is a combination between a horse race and a formula one race.

Let me explain .....................Firstly when you arrive at the track it looks very un-organised as there are camels everywhere ...... we were told that there were 3,000 racing camels in the complex. .......... but it works. The race track itself is sand and running parallel to and on either side of the race track is a tarred road. There are no “jockeys” in camel racing. A special “robot” is fitted as the rider of the camel. The robot has a whip and a loud speaker. During the race, the owner / trainer rides in a 4x4 next to the race track on the tarred road watching how their camel is doing and talking to it through the loudspeaker and activating the robot whip as necessary.

Now each race has 20 to 30 camels participating .............. so what you get is somewhere between 30 and 40 cars (including spectators who do not want to sit in the stands) driving like Michael Shumacher (but at +/- 60 km per hour) jockeying for positions to keep close to the camels ............ very hair-raising – how the hang they do not have accidents I do not know ............ because they are watching the camels not the road .......... so if someone slows down or stops because their camel is not doing well ????? ................ but it works because we did not see any accidents.

We met the manager of the race course who offered to arrange a bus for us ............... to take us so that we could be part of the “camel drive”. Wow ............. 30 people in a bus ............... in places doing 60 km per hour on SAND ( we were “forced” off the road by cars on some of the corners) watching the camels and their owners ............. quite a different but exciting and entertaining experience.

The end of the race is different .................... you get the lead camels coming down the main straight .......... with these cars on either side ......... honking their horns and with people hanging out the windows or up through the sun roofs shouting and waving flags etc. to encourage their camel. Definitely worth another visit ............ but ............ as we were informed by the course manager, this year the Qatari Camel Racing season ends on ............ 28th January. ............ so we will have to wait until October before going again."

Valentine Birthday

Valentines Day is a remarkably big deal here. It seems to bring out the romantic side of the locals. There's lots of roses and hearts everywhere. I bought Ian his pressie (A helium heart balloon that said "I Love You " on one side and "I'm Crazy About You!" on the other). And a voucher from Virgin Megastore, fount of all good books and music. And a card, contents classified. He bought me two dozen red roses....beautiful.


Our friends Oussama and Leila threw a valentines day bash for a few couples. Bring a plate they said, came and have a few fun games, find out how much your spouse really knows about you, that kind of evening. As Nanna was here, we seized the opportunity to go off and have fun. However the randomness that is such a feature of Ian's and my life together reared its head. We turned up, full of anticipation, with a plate of savouries; of course twenty minutes late with me berating Ian on the way. To our surprise, there were no other cars there and Leila and Sam appeared to be getting into their car to go out for the evening. When they spied us Sam immediately said "Sorry, I'm so sorry", while Leila shouted "Tomorrow! It's tomorrow night!" Why Sam apologised I'm really not sure, it should have been us apologising. So off we went back home with our tail between our legs and our plate of savouries and had a feast with Nanna.

The next night we set off again, with a new plate of savouries, ready to tell the story of how we arrived 23 hours early the night before. There was a wondrous crowd there and some new people we hadn't met before. As always over here, there were people from all corners; Canada, Lebanon, USA, South Africa, Germany, Uzbekistan, the Ukraine. There were all kinds of games - dancing, a blindfolded obstacle course where your partner had to tell you where to go, balloon popping, general knowledge. Ian and I won the prize for how well we knew each other, but they reckoned that we had an advantage because we have only been married for a year; they were all having to remember 20 years or more back.

Lina, Sam and Leila's maid who is from Indonesia, was unobtrusively around. She has left a child and husband behind in Indonesia. Despite earning a pittance by our standards, she will be able to buy property when she goes home in two years time. Lina does the housework and some childcare for Sam and Leila - they have a little three-year old daughter.

In the end the evening turned into a great old hooley with lots of dancing. But not any old dancing. Leila is a fantastic arabic dancer, so she put on her music and taught all the women a few belly dancing moves, and also some dances where you move around together in a circle - kind of like arabic linedancing, if you can imagine that. Then, not to be outdone, the men got up and learned how to do arabic dancing too. So we danced separately, as they do in this part of the world, men with men, women with women. In the end the only one left standing was Alain, a Lebanese guy, who was energetically shaking his tail feather long after we had all collapsed. "This is such FUN", he shouted to us all, his teeth flashing, "I feel like going to a nightie club!"

"Good-bye", we said finally to our hosts. We'd had such fun.

"Happy birthday", said Lina solemnly to everyone as they left.

Bon voyage Nanna

Shirl left a few days ago after a couple of weeks that went too soon. The last thing we did was to go and watch the boys play hockey and to deliver the hockey bibs that she had made very beautifully for the team during the time she was here. Here's a photo of her with the team:

Here are some more photos:

Unfortunately the trip home didn't go as smoothly as it could have. We ended up delivering her to the airport 24 hours later than we should have. The staff were very good and rebooked her instantly with no penalty, thank goodness. It was almost inevitable that it happened sooner or later with someone visiting - most of the flights leave here in the very early hours of the morning and it is an easy thing to get wrong. Anyway she's home in NZ safely.

Nanna

Shirley, the boy's grandmother and my ex-mother-in-law, has been staying with us over the past week. There has been a joyous reunion and she and the boys have settled straight back into their usual routines; rummikub, outings, cooking together as well as some new activities like Nintendo Wii. It has been great for me catching up with Shirl and what is happening at home, and she and Ian have started to get to know each other while she has been here. It's all good. The trip has coincided with mid-term break for the boys and the cooler weather. Actually while she has been here the winter has made a sudden transition into spring. One day temperatures of 14 degrees, the next day 24, today 31.

We have been doing the rounds with Nanna; to the souk, into the desert, and other various middle eastern delights. We've organised taxis hither and yon during the day while Ian and I are at work and she declares that the boys have been looking after her magnificently. Scarily, the boys seem to have taken enthusiastically to the taxi idea, suddenly sensing freedom of movement unhampered by inconvenient parental restrictions. She's enjoyed the different kinds of people all around her, their different ways, the different languages.

Speaking of language, there have been some funny examples of english again lately. I had a wonderful coup and found another international supermarket in a neighbouring compound - one even tinier than the one in our compound, but it sells decent bread. The Indian guy behind the counter used to work in our own international supermarket and we greeted each other like long-lost friends. He gave me an order form and assured me that they would deliver to my house if I ordered bread from him. I looked at the top of the order form:

"SUPER.MARKET.BEVERLEY HILLS GARDEN
Every tody order
Tomorrow cuming"

The transition back to work has been proceeding pretty well. There's the occasional glitch. I got a text the other day from our Dina, our wonderful maid.

"Gud am! mam mairi s0ry i wil n0t cme 2day, im n0t feling 0k b'c0z im n0t slep d wh0le night. i dnt kn0w why? n0w feel dizzy nd all my b0dy was wiggle cn't work until afterno0n! s0ry mam mairi but 2mrw prmise i will. thank u! see y0u tmrw. tnx again..dina

Tonight Ian and I are going to our friends Leila and Oussama's house. They are throwing a valentine's bash and there will be quite a few couples. Nanna and the boys will be staying in, doing non-valentines things. We've all got a busy day lined up tomorrow. We're going to show Nanna the golf course, and then drop into the tennis stadium. There's a women's tennis tournament starting next week, unfortunately just as Shirl leaves to go back to New Zealand, but we are going to try to catch a glimpse of the big seeds if we can; hopefully they will be practising. Then we will go to the souq. Let's hope all our bodies don't feel too wiggle from the night before.

It's off to work I go

The last week has been full of transitional family adjustments as I get back to work. I have enjoyed the last few months so much, especially being able to have so much time with Leo and Robbie before they go back home to New Zealand in July. I will always be grateful for this time. However, I've always worked and when I really started to crave employment, I put on my sympathetic face and asked the boys how they felt about me going back to work.

"Go back to work, Mum", they told me briskly, "you're kind of grumpy when you're always at home".

Well, the first week has seen an even grumpier mother as I struggle to get the boys and myself out the door by 6.30. And it's been really cold and wintry. However after the first few days we are getting better. And I have the able assistance of Dina, who now works four hours a day with us and looks after the house and the boys when they come home from school. What luxury.

The Sidra project is going to be an exciting, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The Sidra Medical and Research Centre has the biggest endowment in health history, and is aiming to be a world-best service for women and children. It is an amazing feeling working in a health service where money is not an issue. The project is well-resourced and the Sidra team has been tasked with finding and implementing best practice in both clinical practice and technology.

Here are a couple of architect drawings of how Sidra will look when it is finished.

Margie

Margie, my beloved sister came to stay over Christmas and New Year. It was an exceptionally busy time, very sociable with lots of events - it almost made up for not being at home for Christmas. We had 20 people around for Christmas brunch, and got out to see things we hadn't seen before like Sheikh Faisal's museum - a private museum full of priceless Islamic art and artifacts, fossils, and old cars, with an oryx farm close by. The oryx is the national animal of Qatar, like a big gazelle.



Here's a picture of Margie trying on the traditional gutra and agool for size, when we shopped at the souq for traditional clothes for her son Joshua, who is 12.
Here we are at Nando's with lemon and mint juice - looks lurid and tastes lovely. The oddest meal we found while she was here was at a little local cafe next to our local service station. We had been out and about and there was no food to feed the boys after school, so we guiltily thought we'd better buy something to take home with us to feed them. To our delight we found a meal called "Doha Dum Dum", which we ordered. While we were waiting inside in great anticipation, we also saw under the extensive juice menu two mystery drinks - one called "Computer" and one called "Rolex" juice. We didn't order those. The meal turned out to be club sandwiches and salad vegetables. That wee cafe gets first prize for imaginative food branding.

The other place which really caught Margie's imagination was the animal souq. It's a saleyards filled with camels, goats and donkeys. Occasionally when I drive around there I look out my drivers window in the traffic and see a donkey standing on the back of a ute, surveying the inside of my car.

Margie's trip came to an end all too quickly. I loved the feeling of utter familiarity and comfort that you have with someone you adore and have known for ever; the feeling you miss when you are surrounded by people who are all new to you, who you don't have a long history with.