Lufthansa’s route to Doha stops in Riyadh, and if you are not continuing on to Qatar you are warned sternly that the Kingdom has strict rules about bringing alcohol or magazines with ‘graphics’ into the country. The flight attendant’s speech was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge-say-no-more in German, then in English about those graphic magazines, the actual content of which are only hinted at. But I suspect everyone on the plane knows what she means without her having actually to say it.
The women who are returning to Saudi Arabia instead of visiting from the west begin the flight in the clothes they wore in London or Paris, but by the time the seat belt sign comes on for landing, they have dressed in the burqas of their native custom and peek out through tiny slits. I’ve heard some from the west frown on this custom, and I admit that from our sensibilities it seems women should be able to wear whatever they want out in public. But it must be nice not to have to wonder what you’re going to wear every morning when you get up. “I’ve got nothing to wear!” may be a complaint never heard by the husband who keeps his wife’s chador or burqa closet well stocked.
My nearly 27 hour journey (door to door) was uneventful until I arrived in Doha Airport, which has received a major overhaul for international arrivals since last year. The size of the area used for passport and entry visa processing has been tripled, or so it seemed, with three or four times as many stations operated by either a Qatari woman in black chador or a Qatari man in the traditional white cloak and headdress. When I was called up to one of the men’s stations, I handed over my passport and credit card, the later of which he viewed with narrowed eyes.
“You wish to buy visa?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
He got to work as I wondered what I’d done wrong. He typed away for a moment before I asked, “A visitor’s visa is necessary, yes?”
“Certainly.”
Then why give me the stink eye when I included my credit card with my passport? I guess I was supposed to wait until asked for payment, and I wondered if these agents are ever presented with bribes for any reason. If so, would anyone ever offer a bribe with a credit card? I started thinking that he may have had people want to bring booze into the country. And if you wanted to deduct even your in-country bribes, then sure, you’d want a receipt. But somehow that seemed unlikely, and I still don’t know why including my Visa card with the passport drew suspicion. There I was thinking I had entry into Qatar wired.
The taxi driver had never heard of Le Grand Hotel, but found a colleague in the line of blue and green cabs who knew its location, so we were off into town just before midnight. Taxis are quite inexpensive in Doha, partially due to the cheap gasoline. I haven’t seen any gas prices yet but I think it was around a dollar a gallon last year.
We found Le Grand Hotel with some help from another hotel’s concierge, and when I checked in it seemed pretty good. The folks at the desk were all Nepalese, warm and friendly with pretty good English, and I was shown to a nice room with a clean white bed. For $80 a night it was nicer than the place I’d stayed in 2009 that cost nearly $200 a night. After checking email and such, I made sure the curtains were drawn tight, installed earplugs and trusted to Allah that I would be able to sleep through the morning call to prayer that was due in about four hours.
The biggest problem of my first trip was that my hotel was surrounded by mosques, each competing for attendees and seemingly in a contest for who could broadcast the loudest call to prayer. So each night I’d return from the race track at around one in the morning, work for an hour to two, then fall asleep only to be awaken by the perfect storm of Arabic calls to prayer and a very early sunrise just afterward.
But last night I cruised right through several calls to prayer and woke for the first time around ten, went back to sleep and checked my watch again at 1:45, fifteen minutes before check out. A quick shower later I was downstairs to check out of my single room and into the one I’ll be sharing for two days with my colleagues from MotoMatters and Asphalt & Rubber, both of whom arrive tonight.
I just a little walk outside because when I return to the airport to meet my friends, I’ll have to guide them back here in the rental car. I wanted to find some landmarks to find the hotel due to the scenic route the taxi took last night. Turns out he missed the right turn by one, which led to a very interesting ride through the local back alleys. If the guys are hungry, we may try out the restaurant shown above. They have a family section, and I’m a bit curious to find what that means in this part of the world…
