This post was written Monday, April 12th, in Doha, Qatar.
As I sit in the Doha airport waiting for my flight, an old man in a white dress is playing a harmonica softly in the corner of the waiting area. Every now and then he changes to a song I know, but most of the time the melodies he plays are unfamiliar, sounding eastern European, perhaps. Maybe it’s gypsy music. Whatever it is, it’s yet another interesting contrast that one finds here in Qatar, where east and west are not clashing, but rather getting along in ways that are both encouraging and a bit disappointing.
In a way it’s nice to see cultures meshing without protests and riots, and in another way it’s a little sad to find a place that is fundamentally so foreign to my own sensibilities being so full of familiar elements that it’s instantly accessible. I was thinking today about how different it would be if there were no instances of American branding and Arabic juxtaposed like this:
If I saw that Arabic script in a different context, I’d have no idea whatsoever what it says. I still can’t read it, but since it is beneath the golden arches, I know what it means. The westernization of so much of the world has taken some of the mystery and fun out of international travel. In Doha, there are so many familiar things, such as car models, fast food restaurants, and so on, that often you just don’t feel exactly how far from home you are.
I remember the first time I went to France in the early 1980s. That was before there was a McDonald’s on every corner in Paris. The American invasion had just begun, and there were many fewer people than today who spoke good English. You knew you were in a foreign country, and that was a big part of the adventure and novelty of travel. Imagine visiting Doha years ago, when there were no English or American or European brands in sight. You’d have really felt you were some place new!
As it is, there are plenty of things that are strange, and plenty of familiar things that have nothing to do with western marketing expertise. I think the single best thing about Doha is the friendliness of the people you meet there. Doha is full of people who fall under the insensitive label of ‘cheap labor.’ It’s nothing like how my wife describes her visits to India, but it is still an uneasy feeling to be carrying camera equipment among people whose salaries of many months couldn’t purchase one of my lenses. Yet if you’re lost, they ask if they can help, and not in the hope of a tip, but just to be friendly and kind. I regret that I did not meet any native Qatari’s on this trip, which was so short as to leave me no time just wandering around looking for something to do. But last year, the Qataris I met could not have been friendlier. You may remember how one offered to take me to the Islamic museum, and with whom I passed a very pleasant afternoon there.
I don’t know what it is about the culture, or the mix of cultures, in Qatar that makes the people so nice, but it is great to experience firsthand. I really wish I knew how much an influence my fair skin and western cloths have on how I am treated. It must have some effect, but exactly what I was never able to determine.
Perhaps the most refreshing aspect of a trip to Qatar is the fact that it is a Muslim country, full of traditions and practices that to Americans seem at the very least quite odd and at other times simply unfathomable, and which unfortunately are often associated with violence and hate. One cannot escape the mosques and their regular schedule of broadcasting the call to prayer through the day and night, and women in abayas are everywhere. There are also westerners all over the place, and yet no one is shouting or conflict between the visitors and the locals.
If there is any better single thing about travel to foreign countries than seeing different cultures getting along, I don’t know what it is.
