Doha: Stuck in the sands (both literally & metaphorically)
I landed back in Doha as Eid al-Fitr was beginning to mark the end of the month-long fast.
At 6am the airport was almost deserted, just as the Hong Kong one had been when I had departed at 2am the day before. The only travellers around were a few gaggles of Bangladeshi migrant workers, freshly arrived in Doha for a long stint of slavery on the city’s many construction sites.
Sigh.
I hunted for a taxi and we drove through the empty dusty streets towards my old apartment building. There was a palpable contrast between where I was now and the place I had just left. It was clear to me where I wanted to be.
Arriving back at the apartment building was strange, as if the last month in China has never happened. I was given the key to the exact same apartment as I had before. Although many of us are not renewing our contracts (thanks to the imbecile behaviour of Qatar Petroleum), law says that we should be allowed 30 extra days in the accommodation free of charge. I plan to get out as soon as possible.
But in Doha, that is easier said than done.
All workers that come here are sponsored by their employer. To leave properly, the visa and working permit have to be cancelled through official channels. Of course, this is not an instant process. So why didn’t I just stay in China? Of course that was feasible, but failing to cancel the Qatar visa properly means that I’d have been blacklisted from the GCC states for the next two years. In Doha, all government offices close during Eid. The visa cancellation process takes up to five working days. So for the next two weeks at least, I’m stuck in Doha.
Of course having a rent free (and comfortable!) apartment with all bills paid is not something to be sneered at. I plan to use the enforced downtime to apply for jobs, catch up on my reading, and use the gym downstairs. It feels a little like luxurious solitary confinement or house arrest, seeing as I barely interacted with a human soul for the first two days.
On the second night there was a drinking session with ex-colleagues at the Ramada Hotel. Overpriced watery beer and shrunken olives, but a good chat and quality human company.
Yesterday I got even more adventurous and arranged a coffee meeting with a friend I’d met during my first two months in the desert. We spent a pleasant couple of hours catching up over coffee and shisha in the souk. Then we headed for a drive around town and ended up driving onto a beach in nearby Al Wakra.
Sand driving is a lot of fun…until the car gets bogged down and can’t move. The Mercedes was low to the ground and not a 4x4, so very soon it was properly stuck. We tried to dig it out with our hands, but to no avail. Soon, onlookers started to gather. Some of them offered help. Finally, one guy hauled us out using a rope from his truck with all of us pushing and rocking the car. The wheels spun madly, sand flew in all directions, until whoooosh - out it popped!
Back on firm sand, we told them ‘shukran jazilan’ (thanks very much), and headed back to Doha. It was certainly a thrilling afternoon for someone otherwise in solitary confinement…
