Anne's blog travel 06-07

Thursday December 7th 2006

Well, it's well and truly raining this morning and it was a wet run to start with at least and then it stopped but by the time I was ready for work it was raining again and hard to cross streets with puddles of water everywhere. But here I am and I'm not going anywhere for a long while now.

In the paper the other day there was an article about the opening ceremony and the fact that a few journalists commented that it rained a lot in Doha because it has been overcast for three days then with some rain. Of course the journalist reporting said he didn't bother saying to those journalists that those three overcasts days with some rain where the only days in which it rained all year. But, still today the rain is back and Qataris are smiling as for them rain means good luck. I think of this song from Jacques Brel where he promisses "des perles de pluie venues de pays ou il ne pleut pas" (pearls of rain harvested in country where it never rains) to the woman he loves. Maybe I understand the meaning just a bit more now.

At the moment, in the rain the men's 20 km walk is taking place around the Corniche were I was just earlier this morning.

I've had so many offers from people to show me around, to take me to the desert, to invite me to diner and I'm hoping that in my last few days here I will be able to accept some of those. Saad's brother, Mohammed who I called a few days ago to mention that I felt Saad should rest and who had invited me to diner, has asked that Saad gives me his number. So I call him and promise to meet him for coffee. In the work room the journalists are real gentlemen. I occasionally climb on chairs and tables to change the tags on the TVs if my volunteers cannot attend to this. And each time I find men offering me their hand or arm to get back down eager to help out as if this is not a job for a woman. It's not done in a condescending way either; it's really just that they wish you wouldn't have to do this. Little do they know that at home I ride a motorcycle. Of course this comes from the middle eastern men and possibly even the russian citizens (Ubekistan, and all the other stans) rather than the asians which tend to keep to themselves. One such russian man says to me yesterday: "I don't speak english very well....but my russian (and he looks at me pausing a moment) is very very good." And I'm happy people still have a sense of humor as humor is something which once again transcends languages. I can still laugh with people without being able to have a conversation with them and then it appears the words are not necessary anyway.

And then there is always my lovely volunteers. Everytime any women comes into work or leaves now, they come and we kiss three times as per their custom. Jamal watches me this morning do this with a smile..."you've become an arabic woman" he comments and I smile at his comment. Yesterday, Sameera (my 15 year old) is talking arabic with Abdulqader, Saad and Ahmad as I'm doing some work on the computer. She looks up at me smiling and says: "We just saying how we all love you." And I feel the same way about them.