They call me Alison

For the last week, I have been attending one hour of driving class each night after work.  5 nights, one hour each night.  (My punishment for being American) As frustrating as it was to work all day, go straight from work to driving school and get home late each night- it was worth it.   My driving instructor, Ycel, was a Filipino girl about my same age and extremely nice.  She used to be a bar tender in the Philippines but moved over here with some friends to work at this driving school and get paid pretty good money.   Each night she taught me a new technique, that without- I would not have had a shot at passing the actual test.  One night I was running really late for class (after an all day adventure into the desert and swimming in the Persian Gulf, that’s another blog entry) and instead of lecturing me- she gave me gummy worms and chips because I was so hungry.   From that moment on, Ycel and I were buddies.  It was a secret junk food bond that no one could mess with.  Ycel kept calling me Alison and telling me  that I looked like a girl, Alice, from the show ‘The L Word’.  I accepted my nickname and before long, all of the instructors at the school were calling me Alison.  For five days I learned a lot of secret techniques for the driving test in Qatar and also made a lot of friends from the Phillipines.

Today was the day.  The testing had arrived.  I woke up at 3am, showered, studied, and arrived at the driving school at 5am.  The tests are given two or three times a month so each test day is full of anxious students ready to get it over with.  Today there were about 100 women taking the test with me.  We first lined up and were called one by one for the sign test (this was the part I dreaded the most because they were so different from the US).  When it was my turn, the Egyptian police officer began pointing at signs for me to name.   I tried to open my mouth to say them, but nothing came out.  I was so scared I thought I might faint…I get so nervous around these Arabic police officers- they are so serious and stern.  Finally, words started coming out and I was naming signs like I had known them all of my life.  Done- I passed. 

Next step, parking.  We waited until 7:30 for them to weed out those who had failed then we were all assigned cars and entered them for parking.  First I did what they call an L park, which is parking on an elevated hill, and then I did the P park which is just regular parking in a very small space.  Both of these may sound easy, but many people fail during this part of the testing.   Passed this part!  I was on a roll. 

Last part of the test, driving on the real roads.  We piled what was left of us into two buses.  About forty women were on mine.  The next three hours would be spent with one of us driving a car with a police officer and the rest of us following close behind on the bus.  Each person drove for a total of 5-10 minutes.  I was last.  As the only American on the bus, I was the entertainment for all.  All of the girls wanted to hear my stories and listen to me talk.  (Anyone who knows me, knows I love to be the center of attention so this was fine by me)  Finally it was my turn.  In the car was a 60 year old, angry looking police officer with one of the driving school teachers in the back.  She was there for supervision, since men are not allowed to be left alone with women in Arabic cultures- unless you are family.  The moment I got in the car she lightened the mood, by saying to the policeman “This is Alison.  She is my friend and a good driver.”  The police officer smiled and said something about Americans in Arabic and off we drove.  After about five minutes of me making right turns-he said “Good driving Alison.  Finished.”  I silently screamed from the inside.  The moment I had been waiting for over the past month was here-  I passed the driving test!!  I feel so liberated in a not-so liberal destination.  It is wonderful....

Note:  Only 12 women out of the 100 that took the test today actually passed.

That’s the cost of representing something

Driving in this country is not the most pleasant thing to do.  There are three lane round-abouts at least every half a mile and people drive like they are trying to win a NASCAR race.  (Although, no one here knows what NASCAR is….thank goodness)  Seriously though, everywhere you look there are white SUVs weaving through traffic as fast as possible, leaving the slow and cautious drivers either in the dust or in the ditch- no real rules.  Darwin’s theory must apply to the streets of Qatar.  If you are weak, you will not survive this race.

As scared as I am to get behind the wheel of a car here, I have realized that without a car I will not be able to effectively do my job.  About a year ago, this was no problem.  Americans could get their license here just by going down to the police station and trading in their valid US license.  (This trade-in policy also applies to most European and Australian citizens)  But oh how the rules have changed.  Evidentially, about a year ago a Qatari citizen went to the US with an expired drivers license and tried to just trade it in at the DMV for a US license.  I repeat- he wanted to trade in an expired foreign license. (First of all, it is common knowledge that the people behind those cold desks at the DMV are never in a good mood.  I’m pretty sure the majority of them wake up on the wrong side of the bed at least 355 days out of the year)  Back to the story-  this Qatari was then refused a US license without having to take a driving test.  Wrong move America.  This Qatari was not going to take a driving test.  Once word got back to the traffic department in Qatar, the nice ‘easy’ trade-in privileges for the US disappeared. Vanished.  Now I am having to take a 12-day driving class as well as a difficult, no one passes driving test with Arabic police officers who speak little to no English.

I have tried twice now to go to the police station and beg for the trade-in, both times being turned away for being a daughter of the USA.  The most recent time, my boss came with me to the police station, hoping he could bend the rules.  After being directed to the top manager of the police station, we were again told that Qataris were treating Americans how Americans treated Qataris. Fair right?

As we walked away from the police station the last time-still empty handed, my boss turned to me and said, “You have to represent something Sarah”.  I thought carefully about what he said and he is right.  As frustrated as I am about these vindictive rules, I do stand for something- America.  And I shouldn’t want to hide that or get frustrated about the results of a grumpy DMV employee’s bad day.  I will wait patiently, take the class, and try my best at the test.  This is the cost of belonging to something and I will pay for it.

Fishing for a pearl

I have now been in Doha for a little over a week...and I must say, things are looking brighter.  I am not saying that things are not still frustrating, but at least now I am beginning to laugh at the things that aggravate me.  Its an experience and I am soaking it all in.

A funny part of this last week was getting my 'medicals' as they call it here.  As part of the process in getting your residence permit here, you must first pass the medical test.  This test consists of blood work and xrays and it was by far one of the strangest experiences of my life.  Wednesday morning I was picked up by my company's public relations officer and driven about an hour outside of the city to a middle-of-nowhere medical center.  Half of the medical center was for men and the other half was for women.  Men are forbidden to enter the women's side.  (Many things are separated like this in Doha.)  I enter the building with passport and temporary visa in hand and am immediately given a number.  I glance around wondering what to do next and am pulled by the arm by an arabic lady dressed in her black abaya (head to toe robe).   She begins yelling at two Fillipino women, who were also waiting to get their tests, and demands that they stand up and give me their seat.  I at first refused, but soon realized it was not smart for me to talk back to this women.  So I sat and the two women stood.  After this, I waited in the room an hour before my number was called.  Among me there were all types of women from all over the world waiting for the same entry exams.  Most of these women were of asian decent and were most likely being brought into the country as maids. (Nearly every family in Qatar has a maid)  At last- my number was called.  I rose up only to be directed to another waiting room where I waited for an additional hour.  This was the x-ray waiting room.  (Note: no one spoke English here so I only knew what was going on by the pictures that were on the wall.  X-ray was an easy one to figure out)  I was called to get my x-ray with a group of about ten other women.  We all had to undress in one room and put on the thin, old, faded hospital gowns.  I smiled pretty for my x-ray, dressed again, and then was directed to the next waiting area where my blood was to be taken.  I hate needles and am very scared of them so at this point I was sweating and shaking just a little.  After about half an hour or so, they called my number and I entered the room.  There was a small Arabic women waiting for me, needle in hand.  I sat, closed my eyes, stuck out my arm, and screamed.  She laughed at this little American girl screaming over a blood sample.  But before I knew it, the test was over.  After three hours, I had completed yet another step towards getting my RP (residence permit).

The rest of the week went by smoothly.  Meetings at work, unpacking at home, dinner with new friends, a bbq at a swiss german's compound...but on Thursday came one of the things that I was not looking forward to here.  A sand storm.  It arrived on Thursday like a mysterious thick, brown fog lurking throughout the city.  It has now lasted for about three full days, but I have begun to get used to it.  Although everything around me is dirty and dusty and the air is a little thicker.  Today the dust let up a little and I went for a 3 1/2 or 4 mile walk along the Corniche (the bay).  It was quite nice.  I walked to the new Islamic Museum, where I met a friend.  We spent almost three hours in the museum exploring various art and artifacts from the middle east and asia.  My favorite part of the museum was a special exhibit that they have going on right now.  A pearl exhibition.  In the early 1900s, Doha was a very wealthy city from its success in pearling and fishing.  This market fell drastically in the mid 1900s when Japan became well known for cultured pearls.  It wasnt until Qatar discovered oil that the economy recovered from this enormous fall.  Sorry for the history lesson there...I learned a lot today.  The museum displayed pearls from around the world, including Marilyn Monroe's pearl necklace and some of Coco Chanel's collection.  I learn so much about pearls today- how they are made, how they are cultured, how the different colors are formed.  It was very interesting.  I've always thought pearls were beautiful but I think after today, I will have a greater appreciation for them.

The day ended with a visit to the souq. (a market where you can experience so much Qatari culture)  We ate a fantastic Lebanese dinner and smoked the traditional shisha.  (although i don't smoke normally!! but this was strawberry flavored)  I then walked the 3.5 miles back to my apartment which was somewhat dreadful.  I forgot to mention that I wore the most awful shoes today and have too many blisters on my feet to count.  So much for my Jeep brand shoes, those things will never be taken off-road again!!

Besides the blisters....I sit here as one week ends and another begins, thinking its been a good week.  I'm happy to be here.....Tomorrow I will go to take the driving test with Arabic police officers who do not speak English....for those of you who know my driving skills, be concerned....I will update you soon.

A Saturday stroll along the corniche

Uneasy Arrival

Marhabba! (which means hello, hi, welcome in arabic) I have never kept a blog before, but what better way to start than when moving to a new country. 

I arrived in Doha, Qatar last Thursday morning at 1am.  This arrival was preceeded by just a few small disasters including: 

• Having an emotional breakdown while trying to fit as much as possible into only three suitcases and a carry-on. 
• Almost missing my flight out of Raleigh, NC because I was too stressed to realize that 20:30 is indeed 8:30pm and not 10:30pm.  Luckily, they held the plane for me as I arrived at the airport at 8:00pm.
• Losing one of the three suitcases during a lay over in the London airport and learning this after I had already arrived in Doha.
• The driver that had been arranged to pick me up forgetting that he was to be at the airport at 1am on Thursday morning and so I was forced to get a sketchy cab from the shadows of the Doha airport.

As small as these may seem to you, they were big to me as I arrived in an Arabic country as a young, single American woman leaving my friends and family behind and not knowing what was ahead.

After arriving to my hotel (home for the next 4 1/2 months), I was unable to sleep because there was too much adrenlaline running through my body.  At this point, I had no way of calling home to announce my arrival and that made me feel even more alone in a strange world.  Before I knew it, 6am arrived and I was showering and getting ready for my first day at my new job in Doha, Qatar.  

It has now been about a week since my arrival.  I've had many things to keep me busy between signing paperwork, getting medical exams, having my eyes tested, deciding where to bank, unpacking, learning the details of my new role, trying to meet new people, swallowing my homesickness and just getting adjusted to Qatari culture- there has not been much time to rest.

I can already tell this is going to be an interesting and quite challenging experience.