What's the difference between Doha and yogurt?

Yogurt has an active culture.

Doha isn't a good city to come to if you're lost. In a figurative sense directions in this city are a nightmare - but in a metaphorical sense, the city isn't grounded. If you yourself are not grounded, it makes for one hell of a drifting sensation.

Seriously. Before moving to Qatar I was at a point in my life where I was just coming to figure out who and what I am, but nowhere near to sealing the deal. I was beginning to form the basis of my identity, and decide what exactly it was that I wanted to do with my life. I thought that moving to the other side of the world would help, since traveling has always been my salvation in the past.

For the first time, I may have found a place more confused than I am. There is, believe it or not, a deep tradition and culture in this region. For centuries the people that lived in this area were forced to be intricately intertwined to the landscape for survival reasons. There was a deep rooted tribal culture spanning hundreds if not thousands of years.

While remnants of that tribal heritage still linger today (and will most likely continue to do so), Doha has been completely swept up in the tides of globalization. I have written before about how the Qatari government is right to try to protect the rights and culture of it's outnumbered population, but I think that they may have already lost the battle. I cannot think of a single place in Doha where somebody could go and really soak up the true culture of this place.

Traditionally, the main Souq would be a place where some of the same families who had been there for generations would be selling their wares (often living as well) and providing a flare of local culture. Doha's main Souq - Souq Waqif - is an Arabic Souq-ish Disneyland. Don't get me wrong, it's a great Disneyland - beautiful with great restaurants, fabulous shisha, and a remarkable ambiance. But it is not Qatari. Souq Waqif was renovated just a few years ago to be transformed into the tourist-friendly destination that it is today. It's a great place, and perhaps my favorite spot in all of Doha, because that's as close as it gets.

Qatar is in the middle of creating a new identity for itself, for all Qataris. What it means to be Qatari is not the same thing as it was 30 years ago. Today, to be Qatari means to be wealthy, financially stable, living in a palatial villa with a handful of servants and maids. To be Qatari today is to express your national identity through consumerism and superiority, by sporting the latest trends, Prada purses and Cartier necklaces. Can any Qatari youth under the age of 30 tell you what it meant to be Qatari when there was no abundant spending of oil/gas wealth?

Any country's national day showcases the most typical aspects of their particular culture. In America, people get drunk, gorge themselves on dead animals, and blow shit up. I'm seriously looking forward to Qatar's national day to see what happens. I had assumed celebrations would be minimal (after all, the Qatari population is outnumbered 5 to 1), but decorations bearing the Qatari flag have shown up even in my neighborhood supermarket by the airport (in which I don't even think I've ever seen a Qatari). I've heard from people who've been here longer than me that say it's actually a raucous affair, which really seems hard for me to believe. It seems as if the migrant population joins in wholeheartedly for the celebrations, but for the life of me I can't exactly see why. I can't wait to see what it will actually be like.

Doha has been good to me in a professional sense. I am gaining more than my fair share of professional experience and connections. If I can manage to stick it out for the duration of my degree I think I'll be set to head off in any direction I would want to choose. On an inward and spiritual level, Doha is wearing me down. Life here is so fast paced - quick quick quick - move on to the next big thing. I'm a slow moving being by nature, and I'm realizing I wasn't cut out for such a hectic life. In all honesty, I know things will become much more bearable once I wrap up this killer internship and can move more freely with the flow of things. And soon enough I'll start dedicating my time to research for my thesis, inshallah. Somehow I've just got to survive the next 6 months or so in a seriously uncomfortable position. I know I can do it, but those of you who read my blog will need to deal with a lot of bitching.

Sorry about that.

I think that's why I've been getting a seemingly insatiable desire to go traveling. 'Traveling?' Say you. 'Why Maria, you're in the Middle East!'. Yes, great freaking observation. However, I've been confined to a tiny patch of sandy desert shut off from the rest of the world by the Persian Gulf and a big bad bully named Saudi Arabia, who won't allow me to travel to it based on my anatomical configuration. One of the central tenants in the history of Islam is travel. Let's just say that Ibn Battuta is one of my role models, and perhaps you'll better understand my itchy feet.

I know it sounds so strange to those of you who have known me for a while (it sounds weird to hear myself say it!) but I'm actually insanely excited to go back to Boulder in January, if JUST to feel some motion! I think that's the main problem, I hate feeling stagnant like I am right now. Water that stands still is unfit to drink, and so too we must always keep the rivers of our hearts flowing. I've been stuck in the same spot for too long (a whole four months is apparently long enough for me), and I need to get out and get moving - feel the wind on my cheeks.

(If anybody ever knows about cheap ways/deals/opportunities of getting out of Qatar ever, do let me know. I'm ALL ears.)

Peace and love always <3

Doha... As an onion

Doha has so many layers… So many different types of human beings shoved into one tiny space in the middle of the map. This is a city of almost 2 million people. The roads are cramped, and you can find a man from Nepal, who works cleaning offices at Qatar University for about $6 a day – brushing shoulders with young Qataris who work less than 8 hours a day for more monthly than the Nepali will ever earn in his lifetime.

Even the city itself has layers. Pockets of enormous, skillfully built villas are surrounded by clusters of cramped quarters roofed with corrugated metal, where the doors don’t lock, and there is no AC. Some apartment buildings are spotless and brand new, while others are peeling inside and out. This is a city of contradictions.

There are almost 2 million people squished together in approximately 51 square miles (according to Wikipedia).  Talk about a serious city. It’s not like Los Angeles or any other big, western city. There is just city and then desert. No suburbs or neighborhoods to lull you into a gentle transition. None at all.

The interesting thing, is that even though the residents and layers of Doha are so tightly packed together, they almost never come into contact with each other. To someone at the very tip top layer, having to do anything that lowers you to the level of a common migrant is unthinkable. I say this not just about some (not all) Qataris, but about so many expatriates from the upper echelons as well.

These layers are so plain, and so visible. Nobody can deny that Doha has classes, socially constructed and clearly defined hierarchies built into the society. How much or how little you conform to these hierarchies seems to depend on how close to the ends of the spectrum one is located. Those of us who find ourselves somewhere in the middle seem to care less and less about fitting in to a certain stereotype, since we’re forced to participate on both ends of the spectrum regularly.

The problem is that there are SO few of us. I know we exist, I’ve come into contact with a few like minds since I’ve been here, but really… It’s kind of sad that in a city of 2 million people, a place that could be such a confluence and celebration of culture, there is such structure and expulsion of anything difficult or different. Don’t get me wrong! The Qataris have every right to be nervous! They really should be scared of having Qatari culture wash away in the high tides of immigration.

Qatari culture… I honestly couldn’t tell you too much about it. I know bits about it, and more now since I’ve started my course, to be honest. It’s so complicated. There seem to be some Qataris who have been totally consumed by the new internationalization of Doha. Their kids may not even know much about the history and culture of Doha or Qatar. And yet – as always – there’s another layer of Qataris who are warm, kind hearted and fiercely loyal to their identity. I have no worries that this group of Qataris will raise a generation who may be able to bridge this great rupture that is tearing Doha apart.

The Qatari government is right to think that it needs to exert some influence to protect Qatari culture. Without some government intervention, the culture would surely get swallowed up in a great big heap of globalization.

At the same time, they seem to be changing their stance on immigration from one of tolerance and hope for the future, to one of protectionism and antagonism. This huge influx of outsiders was too much, too soon for poor Doha. Where once migrants signalized a burgeoning economy, now they are little more than a nuisance. So strange.

And still yet there is a layer of Western expats, all to varying degrees of wealthiness. While everyone comes to Doha in the hopes of earning a better salary, it’s safe to say that the westerners here (even the students and recent grads) come from lucrative backgrounds back home. They all seem to stick together (I’ve heard stories of some not leaving West Bay for more than a year), and frequent the few hotel bars on a weekly basis.

I haven’t been able to find my layer yet. I’m not quite sure there is one out there for me yet. There may very well be a layer for out of place westerners (who own a dog), converted to Islam yet appreciate Sufism and mysticism, who don’t earn all that much and just manage to get by, who don’t like the industrialization of the city and prefer the mangrove swamps instead… Maybe that layer does exist.

Clearly, I just haven’t visited enough mangrove swamps to find out…

Peace and love always <3

Sufism is a Curse

When I started down this long road of Sufism, I never imagined it would end up being quite so troubling. Honestly, looking back now, I don’t even know if I would recommend the option to anybody who truly is seeking answers about the nature of God and existence. The problem with Sufism is, that if you are truly determined and open to achieving your spiritual goals, you can do so.

Normally, of course, this would not be a problem. Learning about the nature of God and the spiritual threads that connect us all actually makes it so difficult, if not borderline impossible, to live comfortably in this dunya. I’ve never had such a hard time forcing myself to participate in the high-speed, non-stop, progress-driven world that we live in today. I don’t naturally move as quickly as the pace of today’s internationalized capitalism.

Honestly, if it were up to me, work wouldn’t ever start before 10am. Breakfast and coffee could be consumed every morning without exception. There would be time at night to sit outside and slowly enjoy your poison (whether it be a beer or glass of wine for you non-Muslims, a big fat doobie, or just a cut of tea….). I would give anything to be able to watch the sun set even twice a week. In a perfect world, I would be able to take Farrah out for a nice long walk in the evenings, without worrying whether I’m going to be run over or stared to death.

Why doesn’t the world work that way? Just think about that for a minute. How many people actually like to force themselves up in the morning, sleep deprived, dragging themselves to work for a job they may not even enjoy (driving in a car that statistically has a high likelihood of crashing), only to drag themselves back in the evening, too tired to enjoy life or take time to reflect? I’m guessing very few people.

The problem is that the way our world works, is in a way where we are constantly told that money is our only salvation. In this world, in this life, money is god. We work ourselves silly to get money, which allows us to live. It is only through money that we can truly express our inner human happiness (whether it be by buying a movie ticket, a plane fare, or just a good meal).

That SUCKS.

I want to wake up every morning and fill my heart with love and happiness, not suppress it with tons of caffeine and artificial light.

The problem is that while I recognize all this, I am also a realist to some extent. I realize that my options for working outside of the system in order to change it are so slim. The only reason I would work outside of the system is if I cared only for my own happiness; I could isolate myself from this fucked up society and live a happy life. For sure, I could do that.

I can’t, in good conscience, proceed with that plan. I love people, and seeing my fellow human beings suffer at the expense of the few who control this world system forces me to employ all of my privilege and ability to help them, and to change things.

That all sounds so noble, and I swear I’m not a tree-hugging self-righteous twat. I’m only one person; I can only do so much.

In the hopes that some day I can gain enough recognition that I could somehow exert an influence to help one group of people, or enlighten one other person, I continue on towards my goal. Slowly trudging my way through this shit-filled sewer that we call “the modern world”; I bide my time.

I have only one God, and He does not live in this soul-less compression of concrete, steel, and tarmac. My God is the one of the mountains and the sea, the God who makes the desert sands sing, who’s breath slips through my window and kisses my cheeks.

Sufi ramblings. Bleh.

Peace and Love always <3

Wash Your Heart

I know I’ve talked about something similar to this before, but I think I really found a profoundly reassuring way to cleanse the heart today.

As I’m sure all of you fabulous people will know, I’ve been moaning about being stuck in this big awful city, where there’s no nature, just concrete, and waah waah waah waah waah!!

Well, today I finally got off of my ass and went in search of some nature. Although, I’ll admit that it wasn’t exactly totally my first choice. Apparently I’ve used up all of my monthly internet balance for November, so I’m completely devoid of internet on my laptop until the 30^th. EGADS.

While this means I can’t spend my time sitting on my ass doing nothing over the weekend (such a shame, it’s really one of my favorite past times…), I figured I had to be capable of doing something productive.

I read this blog on my phone (dogs in Qatar blog), and it described (in great detail) how to get to the mangrove swamps south of Wakrah. And I mean like serious description. I actually got really lost, but was totally able to find my way there thanks to these killer directions. If you’ve ever been in Qatar, you’ll know that actually being able to get somewhere is an accomplishment in and of itself. Even if I did end up parking in the wrong place and getting chastised by “Ahmed, the property manager for this area”.

I ended up making it out to the Shuwaisma coast guard station just south of Wakrah. I wouldn’t be surprised if this station has been here unchanged since the 60s. It was actually refreshing to see something that wasn’t completely spotless and shiny and brimming with young, entitled Qataris. Shuwaisma coast guard station has a sign whose paint is peeling, a rattling old pickup truck, and the grandest looking tree for miles around. That tree must be such an old landmark (it’s the only reason I knew where to go). When there’s nothing around but flat, sandy desert, a 15ft tree really stands out.

I met a very nice Frenchman who was lounging near the station in a lawn chair, looking as if all that was missing were a beer. But this is Qatar. I asked him which way was the best way to go (I brought Farrah with me of course!!), and he told me that further south is way cleaner than any other options, so off I went.

I waded in the ankle deep, warm and gentle waters of the Gulf. Here I am in Qatar, pursuing a master’s degree in Gulf Studies, and feeling the Gulf’s warm waters for the very first time. Amazing. I think we tend to forget or try to eliminate the actual, geography of the earth from time to time…. It felt so good to reconnect and remind myself where I was exactly.

When I finally felt the strain of walking (and really needed to pee), I found a nice sandy spot surrounded by mangroves on either side, and just sat for a while. I brought a towel, so I kicked off my shoes and let myself just be a part of the landscape. Eventually, all kinds of birds started to appear. At one point, a big grey goose came flip flopping out of the mangroves to my left, checked me out, and kept flip flopping his way across the beach. Farrah thought it was just the most amazing thing ever, and stared like crazy. That goose just did not care about us at all, and just kept on his merry way, not 20 feet away.

Walking back I carried Farrah (since she appears to be terrified of the ocean) and waded through the tiny, crystal clear waves all the way back to Shuwaisma. Every tiny wave that sloshed helplessly over my ankles felt as if it were washing away a tiny part of the dirt that tends to cake up over your heart from time to time. Periodically I would stop, stare out to sea, and breathe in that sweet salinity… Each exhale carrying with it bits of dirt and ash.

By the time I had made it back to the sandy grounds near the Shuwaisma coast guard station I felt like a totally new person. I just wish that Mr. Ahmed hadn’t soured it by throwing his weight around, chastising me for my bad parking. There was also a dreadfully skinny dog that came bounding up to my car out of NOWHERE, who was just begging for love. Unfortunately I already have one charge, who happens to HATE most other dogs. So I gave this tiny guy some water and two stale ladoos that had been in my glove box since Thursday. I really hope he makes it. Breaks my heart to see an animal in need like that….

I hope my internet dies more often, so that I’m forced to go out and explore like that more often. Good show. I encourage you all to get out and see a little nature.

Peace and love always <3

Stuck in a Middle East Rat Race

A recent abandonment of my blog has been directly correlated to an exponential increase in my workload.

In laymen's terms: Doha is kicking my BUTT.

Not only am I a full time graduate student, I am working 20 hours a week as an assistant for the brilliant director of my department at Qatar University, I have just secured a 16 hour (unpaid) internship with a rather prestigious policy institution with a branch here in Doha. Did I mention I have 9 hours a week of class? And long-term projects for work and grad school in the pipes for the next 3 months?

I'm not trying to complain. I asked to be blessed with opportunity and Doha has done nothing but reward me for my hard work, and punish me for my inaction. It's like a wet dream for the Protestant work ethic. Them Evangicsals dun' got a thang on them A-Rabs...

While this is all great for my professional career, I'm experiencing a cleavage forming, in a rather Marxist sense, between my private and public lives. I am having trouble sleeping, it seems, as my brain just never shuts off... I feel as if the spiritual/intellectual side of me is lacking in stimulation. As I like to say, my brain isn't exercising or doing enough "cartwheels" throughout the day. I continue to just do what I'm told at work and at class, and there is never a time for me to simply celebrate myself and allow for my creative genius to flow free (hello bloggy poooo).

Perhaps this is just a characteristic of all "professional lives" of people all around the globe, and everyone needs to figure it out sooner or later. That just doesn't sit well with me though. My brain needs time to do some cartwheels (just not my body, apparently ;) ), and that's something that can't be helped.

I've already decided to take some time to do some transcendental tourism as soon as it's feasible (next March, details soon!), so I can have something to look forward too. I also need to take some time to let out my pent-up brainwaves, and something tells me that this blog will take the frontline in that regards... So I do apologize to my readers in advance....

I think this is something that all professionals around the world need to consider: to what extent is the majority of your time on this planet spent in a rat race?

In a Marxist utopia, we would all be professionals in what we love and revel in doing, whatever that may be. I've always tried to make sure that I enjoy what I'm doing, and I would never ever agree to forcing myself into a job I didn't take an interest in.

Today, however, while we develop external ideas and projects at our places of employment, it is important to remember to nourish your other half. One never wants to become lopsided by only enriching your professional persona. Take some time to love and treat your spiritual/intellectual being, since that comprises the majority of your "self/nafs" as it were...

All this just sounds like Sufi ramblings to me, but I hope someone somewhere can take something somehow...

Peace and love always <3

About to be very unpopular with a lot of Qataris....

Hello all!

I realized I haven't been blogging lately, but things have gotten a bit more intense here as time goes on. More and more assignments roll in, and I have just scored an internship at the Brookings Institution here in Doha... (Hooray for me!)

I really need to get something off my chest that's been bothering me for a while... You may get a hint of this in my previous post about the medical commission, but here's to me saying it straight out: Qatari government employees are DICKS. All of them (except for the one female manager at the medical commission, she seemed to have a tiny scrap of heart left). I have never ever been treated nicely or fairly by a Qatari government employee here. I cannot count how many times I have been insulted, ignored, or dismissed by Qatari gov't employees who just didn't want to bother with me, didn't know what they were doing, or had incorrect information.

While I totally understand that Qataris inherently have a little air of  superiority, this is outrageous. If it weren't for me and other expats like myself, there would be NO Qatar, and these government employees would have no job! All of these places where the employees are rude are government institutions, which means they exclusively hire Qataris, are most of them are set up with the sole purpose of expat bureaucracy (expat medical exams, expat license conversion, etc). In all honestly, most Qataris work for the expats, not the other way around!

I'm not trying to force Qataris into submission in their own country... Far from it. However, would it be too much to ask for Qatari government employees to at least act a little bit friendlier? Don't bust out the cakes and non-alcoholic champagne for me and my counterparts, but at least don't treat us like the worst kind of dirt! We are human beings too (shocking, I'm sure) and we have feelings, jobs, families, and lives too. The expats in Qatar made this country what it is today so that Qataris could have a big fancy, shiny playground to spend their endless riyals in. Don't forget that without the expats, there would be no Qatar.

All I'm asking is that the next time a Qatari government employee backtalks an expat, they ask themselves how they would feel if somebody insulted them (in another, strange, foreign country no doubt - especially with language barriers).

We are all human beings. On the day of judgment, I can guarantee Qataris will be standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Americans and unwashed South Asian laborers. So get OVER it.

Peace and love always <3

Where is the soul of Qatar?

I know it's been so long since I last blogged! But in reality, I did come here to be a graduate student, and that has definitely been the case the past few weeks! I have also secured a position as a Graduate Assistant, and so I don't enjoy the same amount of free time as before....

I can't complain, however. This is what I came here to do. The problem that I've encountered over the past summer - perhaps due to all my diving into Sufism - is that there is much more for me to do that just get my degree. Don't get me wrong, I can and will finish my degree, and probably end up diving into a Phd as well. I think that I am ready to be done with trivial things. I know that I need to prove myself and work towards being able to do what I really want to, but having to deal with mundane tasks is really getting to me for some reason....

Perhaps it's not being able to allow my creativity to flow freely.... I'm not sure. I feel so tired of being told what to do and instructed to perform simple tasks which for me, have no purpose. I know that they must be done, but the problem is that I just don't want to do them..

In the past, the best way for me to combat these "sticky feelings" (since they do cause me to feel stuck and stagnant) is to travel. Whether it be traveling across the world or just driving up into the mountains (mostly the latter) I've been able to calm my inner self and cleanse the conscience by immersing myself in nature. I'm not sure why that's always worked for me, but I'm not ready to abandon a tried and true method!

I have run into one big problem, though. There is no nature in Doha. Don't get me wrong, I understand that there are parks, but would anybody have seen a vast field of Kentucky Bluegrass and plastic playground structures in this area 40 years ago? I highly doubt it. I honestly can't say I've even seen what the natural landscape of this country looks like. If you never left Doha (where I am currently contained), you would think that the entirety of Qatar was lined with pavement, highrises, and sidewalks.

Ok, I know that it's probably just a lot of wind and sand out there - right outside of Doha anyways - but there is more to Qatar than just the Global Doha. Before Doha, there was a distinct culture here and elsewhere in Arabia. People lived amongst nature, not shut out from it. I want to see what Qatar's really like. I want to get out and breath the desert air, not hear a car horn for more than 5 minutes at a time.

Maybe I just need to get away from people. I'm not sure. Doha is brimming with people. People from all around. There is no cohesive culture here, cultures exist in bubbles, away from the public eye. Like people gather with other like people, and bridges across communities do not exist (at least in the public sphere). People are skeptical of other groups, partially because this may be the first time they've ever laid eyes on someone  so different. Here Arabs stare wide-eyed at Westerners - who are fascinated at them in return - where South Asians and Filipinos try to understand one another, both on the same rung of the economic ladder and yet from two markedly different ends of the world.

There is no over-arching sense of belonging. Nobody feels as if they are truly a part of a larger community here. Most expats who come here do so attempting to make a better life for themselves, to earn better salaries, to help family, to succeed. In that sense, it could be argued that the majority of people that come here are selfish and pursuing wealth alone. And yet there is solidarity, and a tacit understanding between people that everyone here is working towards improvement.

Even in a religious context, everyone here is always striving to be better - mostly. The feeling can be felt in the mosques, which are flooded with converts from all over the world. I'll sometimes attend the Friday prayers at FANAR cultural center by Souq Waqif, and most of the people there are Indian or Filipino, African or Indonesian. There's a handful of Westerners like myself (since it's the only English mosque in Doha) dispersed throughout, but we are few in number.

Through all this I am left now wondering: where is the soul of Qatar?

I have always thought that the soul of a place lives within the Earth itself. Such is the case of Colorado and much of the US Southwest. God is present strongly and fiercely within the landscape itself. The beauty is staggering.

Here... The landscape is shut out. The few times I have glimpsed at hints of the desert surrounding Doha, I can hear God whispering to my - inviting me forth.

I always think back to Rumi: "wherever you stand, be the soul of that place". But where can I find the soul of Qatar? Does it lie amongst the people? The ones who have crawled here to this city from all corners of the planet? Are they the soul of Qatar? I don't see it in the faces of the few actual Qataris - they seem guarded (and rightly so) to the globalization around them.

Every morning, on my taxi ride from the bad end of town to campus, I gaze out on the sea and hear the call of God. I heard it again once on the outskirts of Doha, after a few wrong turns had taken us too far down Salwa road. God is out there, and he is living in the landscape here.

I'm planing on doing a national tour of Qatar (all 11,437 sq km of it). I'm sure by car it could be done in a day, but I want to take my time. I'm going to convince my S.O. to come with me so I'm not a stupid single American girl running around by myself, but I plan on spending a lot of time with myself and with God. I want to tour around the coast and see the smaller traditional villages and romance away on the beaches and the coast. Why not? I doubt many Qataris have ever delved into the Qatari landscape.

There is more to Qatar than just Doha, and I plan on seeing it.

Peace and love always <3

Romancing Doha

It's officially been one month since I left my hometown of 21 years - Boulder, Colorado - and flung myself haphazardly across to the other side of the world. It all sounded crazy before I pulled it off, and looking back now I can't believe I managed to pack up enough crap to fill 3 suitcases to the brim, sneak through security with an extra carry-on, and legally tote my 3kg chihuahua from Denver to Doha, Qatar without a solid plan or safety net. I had to leap, and hope - literally and figuratively - that there would be someone waiting to catch me.

Luckily, within 30 minutes of landing at DOH I was through security with no problems, Farrah was exhausted, but excited to no longer be on a plane, and I was melting in all sweats and a thick headscarf (I always get cold on planes). With no hotel booked and knowing already from online research we would be SOL, we set off in search of a place to sleep. Yeah right. For the record the only (and yes I mean only, we tried every single one) hotel which was A) affordable and B) didn't mind dogs was the Danah Hotel on Al-Muthaf st.

I'm now happily settled in my own studio apartment (would be considered a sizable one bedroom in the USA), and I'm ever so slowly figuring out life in Doha. It should be stated that I am here in Doha completely on my own. I have a handful of emergency contacts (from a whole host of kind and considerate people back home) should something go wrong, and I have Farrah. I come from a family with little excess in funds; yet what we lack in financial security we more than make up for in love and full support. There is no way I would be where I am today if it wasn't for the unwavering support and love I've been lucky enough to have from my family. I miss them all terribly, but it feels good knowing that they are all rooting for me 100%.

Knowing this information should allow the reader to have a brief understanding of my current situation. Things are not easy at the moment. I should have been able to find a cheaper apartment. I should have had a stove the first two weeks so I didn't have to eat out as often. I shouldn't have had to take that one extra taxi-ride that cost me 50 riyal... But somehow, I've made it work. With my family, we always somehow "make it work" in the end.

That's why it was so devastating when last Wednesday I started to notice Farrah going off. She wasn't eating, and had threw up three times consecutively. I didn't think much of it (dogs barf.... It's a fact of nature) until the next day when she still hadn't eaten, threw up again, and started to look as if she had had a seizure (she's prone to them). I came back from class and decided she needed attention ASAP. So I rushed her off to the vet and had to leave her there for two days time. I went to pick her up today, knowing I didn't have enough money to cover the whole bill, and was told I couldn't take her home until I'd paid it (of course while being charged for her extra time there). I had already seen her and could hear her sad and desperate wails and cries begging me to liberate her from that stinking cage and take her home.

In the end, my fabulous and most amazing S.O. was able to phone in a credit card number from Saudi to save the day. On the way back I was of course in tears, and my poor driver couldn't stand it. His daughter is one month older than me and was married 9 months ago. I think I may pull a few of his heartstrings.... I explained to him the whole thing and he told me that from now on all of his services would be free, no need to pay him. He also handed me 200 riyals as I got out of the car. I refused but he insisted. I started sobbing and he told me I shouldn't be crying now, but I told him no - it was out of joy.

And so, courtesy of my driver Mohammed, I am sitting here on my pink-covered couch munching on some vegetable biryani from my favorite Indian vegetarian restaurant and contemplating my experiences in Doha thus far. I do apologize for the obscene length of this post. I know I wouldn't read it.

In America, there is a heavy stigma attached to financial irresponsibility. Not being able to pay your vet bill merits you a roll of the eyes, and an application form for a payment plan at some obscene interest rate. Here in Doha, a city where 80% of the population comes from somewhere else, being poor is a fact of life for a lot of people. Nobody comes to Doha if everything is perfect for them at home. Most people that come here are South Asian in origin, with little or nothing to their names. The rest are mostly Filipinos and other Arabs. People come to Doha to make a living, to make it big, and to get a foot in the door.

As such, Doha is naturally a place of optimism and hope. Everyone is hoping for that next big gig, that next big paycheck, that big break you've got coming. Some people here made it work. Almost everyone who comes to Doha makes it in the end; there is such a huge demand for labor and skills here. Almost no one needs to go home or move on because they didn't catch a break. That being said, before they got that break - before the driver bought his car, before the hotel called back with the employment confirmation - they knew what it felt like to be without.

Right now, I am without.

I have 230 riyal to my name (would be 30 were it not for the generosity of my amazing driver), and enough Indian food to last me the next three days. I have no idea how I'm going to pay my rent in 5 days, let alone buy food once my fridge runs out. Luckily, I no longer need to worry about transportation costs (I plan on paying my driver back tenfold when I can), but I can't afford for Farrah - or me - to get sick.

But I always have hope. I am waiting for my break. I have a few things lined up and inshallah soon things will change. The next month is going to be quite a squeeze, for me and my family, but we'll make it.

Perhaps I'm blinded by my love for this city, my romancing of Doha. The American dream is more alive for me here than it would ever have been in the streets of New York City. Indeed "I think [I am] another of these desert-loving English." (Prince Faisel, Lawrence of Arabia), and yet I feel so comfortable here. I feel confident that I can catch my break here, I can establish myself in my field. I really can do this. I sure hope so anyways. Ya Allah I have something coming...

I see this not as a time of great hardship, but rather as a necessary purging before prosperity. How will I ever truly learn to appreciate financial security until I have experienced the complete opposite of it? I trust always in Allah, and know that He hears my sighs.

And always I must say, inshAllah, inshAllah...

Peace and love always <3

Alone in Doha: The kindness of strangers

Let's face it: moving isn't easy. Really. Moving from one city to another can be daunting, let alone to the other side of the world. I knew this was going to be difficult and I definitely didn't expect anything to be handed to me on a silver platter. And to say it quite bluntly, things have been hard. They have been VERY hard. However, I've been able to do practically everything I set out to do. I haven't failed in much thus far, and plans are slowly being stitched together. I have tried to stay optimistic, and so far it's paid off.

That isn't to say that I haven't had any struggles. In fact, getting most things accomplished here has been rather difficult, and I must admit that there have been plenty of times when I was ready to just give up in frustration. But giving in and admitting defeat has never been an option for me. Let me tell you about one such experience which brought me near to tears before I was saved by the total kindness and generosity of a complete stranger.

I decided to go to the nearest post office (conveniently looked up online) so that I could open up a PO box where I could have my ballot mailed for the election in November (I love Obama, ok, and I feel OBLIGED to vote for him). I don't have my own transportation and seeing that it was fairly close (albeit in a neighborhood I'd never been to) I decided to walk. So I plugged in my headphones and set out. It is rather unusual to see women walking here with any real purpose, and I'm used to being stared and honked at (the honking is mostly from taxis to try to snatch up a customer).

Finally I made it to the post office, only to be told that everything there was full and that I should go to the main office to ask about where there might be availabilities. Being in a neighborhood I didn't know, I plugged the location into my phone and started to walk down the street, deciding if I saw a taxi that I would hitch a ride over there. I walked. And walked. The sun set. It got dark. My phone was taking me down some pretty sketchy side-roads in an effort to shorten the distance. Every taxi I saw was going the other direction. I started to get a little nervous.

Here I was: and American hijabi wandering through unfamiliar parts of Doha after sunset. Was I insane? The more I started to doubt myself, the more irrational I became. I took the wrong turns and ended up on a deserted street sandwiched in by parks on either side. Generally, Doha is an extremely safe city, but the parks (any areas with grass, actually, building courtyards and strips of grass by billboards apply) tend to accumulate strange, sketchy populations at night, mostly of younger, single, South Asian men. I decided it would NOT be the best idea to keep walking, and decided to wait until I saw a taxi.

I waited for about 15 minutes without any taxis coming by. Finally, I decided to get a "Pakistani Taxi" (a private, unmarked taxi that have a tendency to be operated by annoying and rather forward South Asian drivers). When it pulled up I saw it had two men in the front, so immediately I had second thoughts. Then I saw they had a prayer rug sprawled across the dash and Quran belting through the speakers. I was probably safe. The driver told me he would take 20 riyal (USD $5.50) for the approximately 4km drive to the post office. When we got there I begged him to accept just 14qr. Reluctantly he accepted and drove off.

Inside the post office I was told by a few individuals (none of whom spoke very good English) that there were absolutely no PO boxes available. I could put my name on a waiting list. When the young clerk saw I was on the verge of tears, he suddenly scrawled down the name of the manager and his phone number. He instructed me to come back at 9am on Sunday and speak with the manager. He could arrange an emergency box if I was so desperate. Grateful, I was still in an emotional state of anguish. Not only had I walked about 7km in the dark in Doha putting myself on edge, it had all been for no reason. I hadn't accomplished anything.

I had noticed a man and his daughter (probably about 18months-2yro) staring at me when I arrived, and there they were again, staring at me as I stood near the entrance a wreck, deciding on my next step. As I said, I'm used to being stared at, so I didn't pay any attention. Then he called out to me. I didn't understand his words and just thought it awkward that a grown man with his daughter was trying to hit on me.

"Do you need help?" His English was perfect. "I saw you come with that Pakistani taxi, yani..." he snorted in laughter "at least let me give you a ride down to the road where you can get a real taxi."

Reluctantly I agreed. Normally I would NEVER get into a car with a total stranger, but considering the state I was in and the fact that he had his very young daughter with him, I decided he would probably be mostly harmless. Driving out to the main road he asked where I lived and with who. When I told him I was far away by the airport and all alone he insisted on driving me back to my apartment. The whole way back he kept telling me how difficult it must be to be living here all alone. I joked as I always do about having Farrah with me, so really it wasn't that bad. But even as I said it I could feel tears welling up inside me.

The man was Tunisian, and told me how he didn't like it here, but he and his wife had come to work and they were saving up quite a bit of money. He hadn't wanted to come alone, and why should he when his wife was wanting to work as well? He tipped me out at my building, gave me his card, and told me he was on a mission to help those who were living alone in Doha. I should call him for anything, even if I wanted to come have dinner with his family.

As I walked from my building down to my local Indian restaurant to grab some grub (I had been to shy to ask him to drop me there), my tears suddenly ceased and my head cleared. I wasn't alone. I could never be alone. Not in a city with so many people, just like me, coming here to try to change their lives. There are very few locals here, the vast majority of people are imports, who come here seeking a dream. We all want the same thing: success, money, wealth, education, love.... We all come here seeking these things. Most of us find it. Some of us fail. But here, in this city built on dreams and great ideas, we are all working towards a common goal.

Doha is a city of eternal optimism. Unlike its less fortunate southern neighbor Dubai, Doha is still growing due to long term natural gas contracts with China and the West. There is a guaranteed and steady source of money which is propping up the economy of this place, and attracting ever more and more individuals. Nobody plans on staying in Doha forever, and yet, here we all are. Ready to work hard and make our dreams come true. And we all must help each other.

Wealth does not come from any higher power. Allah is not a bank teller. In fact, we are expressly warned not to seek out wealth for it will do us no good in the hereafter. I believe that those who come to Doha are not seeking just wealth. Doha is an empty symbol: it means for you what you will. If you come here seeking nothing but wealth you may succeed, but more likely you will fail. If you come to Doha fully conscience of the nature of this land, seeking not only wealth but personal and spiritual growth, you will find everything you seek.

Nobody in Doha is alone. We are all part of something larger, something bigger and better. If you decide to reach out just a little bit, you find a hand, outstretched and waiting.

Peace and love always <3