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?