Qatar
January 8, 201
Georgi walked me to the curb in front on my apartment building where the hired car and driver were waiting. The sky was pre-snow gray and the temperature was chilly. In the back seat of the Honda I caught up on email on the two-hour drive to Dulles DC Airport.
After checking two suitcases at the Qatar Airways counter, I descended down to security. My business class ticket allowed me to walk to the front of the queue, bypassing at least 30 people waiting in line. Feeling guilty about the status, I passively waited behind the yellow line and waited for the security agent to give me permission to proceed, and therefore take responsibility for my advance.
My ticket also gave me access to the exclusive Virgin Airlines lounge. As I entered the 1970’s futuristic module styled lounge, the hostess greeted me and informed me that all food and beverage was complementary. I sat down on a velvet covered cube couch and ordered a glass of Chardonnay.
Upon boarding the plane two hours later I entered the spacious Business Class chamber. Nervous, I followed the lead of the others by ripping open plastic wrapped bedding and ordering a glass of champagne. After three glasses of Veuve Clicquot and a three-course meal served on real plates with white linens, I watched 30 Rock episodes and drifted off to sleep, fully reclined.
I woke for the final time two hours before landing in Doha. I changed out of my airline pajamas, back into my clothes and ordered a fresh squeezed orange juice, a smoothie, a fruit plate and a cappuccino. After breakfast we made our decent at dusk over the Arabian Sea.
The plane landed right on time in Doha. At passport control a man in a white thobe directed first class passengers to the counter where women draped in black accepted documents without expression, not budging their dramatically drawn eyebrows.
Rhys was waiting for me outside customs, standing behind a glass divider where short dark men pressed handwritten signs with personal names to the window. He shook my hand and took some of my baggage, which was heavy with the weight of a tool set I was carrying for him.
As we drove through traffic from the airport, a call to prayer was broadcast from a masque. In the black sky a yellow new moon hung sideways like a Cheshire cat smiling. Unyielding SUVs raced around roundabouts making me grateful that Doha drivers are at least sober. Every car, although new, was covered with desert dust, dulling the shine of paint and chrome.
In front of my hotel, set back from a main road, flaming torches lit a terrace where men sat smoking hookahs and drinking tea. We went up the bling glass and gold elevator to drop off my bags and then headed out for dinner.
Rhys and I braved a walk on the “cool” (70F) evening to a small hole in the wall Thai restaurant. Risking our lives as pedestrians, we walked through parking lots and dogged unyielding traffic to get to our destination. On a small street lined with shops in cement block buildings, we found the divey spot with its pitiful waterfall. The food tasted like American Thai food but the service was comically terrible in contrast to the royal treatment given at the hotel.
January 9, 2011
When the alarm woke me at 6:30 am I went to the window and opened the curtains to find a bank on white fog cloaking the city. The only thing apparent was the skeleton of a building below my window. The night before, workmen labored constantly, undertaking some growling process.
I made some extra strong instant coffee, from the packets available in the room, called home on Skype, did some yoga and dressed in a hurry. At the breakfast buffet in the lobby I found an assortment of Eastern and Western foods. I ate a small amount of fruit and cheese and then waited for the chauffer to take me to Education City, the compound of western universities where VCU has an art and design campus
At the school Rhys showed me to a medium sized classroom, which I would work to transform into an etching studio. Sitting for hours among piles of paper and randomly placed furnishings, I started to visualize my abbreviated dream studio.
After work Rhys took me to souq waquif, an old town market that was recently rebuilt to look exactly like the original, complete with faux finishing aging effects. We walked among caged exotic pets and through a sweets store with bins of dried fruit and spices. Pungent smells of wool rugs and frankincense mingled with sweet, flavored shisha smoke. We stopped for dinner and both ordered fish and rice with “Qatari spices.” The aroma of the dish was similar to that of the market, not entirely pleasant.
After the meal we shared green apple shisha and watched teens circle the souq in a familiar idle adolescent procession.
January 10, 2011
I fell asleep exhausted and woke after 2 hours and never got back to sleep.
When I got to school one team of laborers had cleared out all of the furniture and another team of janitors was beginning to dust and scrub surfaces. I used pieces of tape on the floor to plot the footprint for all the equipment and furnishings I planned to put into the small studio. Afterwards I met with the facilities staff, which would put my plan into Cad and help mediate with fabricators who would make custom surfaces for the studio.
Exhausted, I went back to the hotel to catch up on sleep and work on an inventory spreadsheet.
January 11, 2011
Ispent the day in various meetings and continued sourcing products and equipment for the studio.
After work Rhys and I went to Mathaf, Arab Museum of Modern Art, in its temporary location near education city. In the entry gallery hung two large portraits, painted by Yan Pei-Ming, of the Emir and his most important wife, Sheika Mozah. The rest of the museum’s collection was fairly mediocre but like in other parts of Doha, there was a feeling of immeasurable potential. The Sheika has made it her mission to be a guardian of education and patron of the arts. It is her primary goal to create a knowledge-based industry in Qatar that will supersede their oil resources.
From Mathaf we drove back into the center and circled the neighborhoods around the castle looking for but never finding the gold souk.
January 12, 2011
A day spent working on the inventory list was followed by a visit to Riyaz, “the rug man” who supplies VCU faculty and staff with beautiful rugs made by nomadic tribes in Afghanistan and Pakistan. http://www.the-rugman.com/
January 13, 2011
After work on my final day in Doha, Rhys and I went to the Museum of Islamic Art to see the beautiful building and peruse the ancient objects inside.
From the museum we went to a small get together at the villa compound where many of the faculty live. Johan, a Swedish design professor hosted and other folks came together to share their stash of rationed spirits.
January 14, 2011
In the morning I rose early to catch my flight. As we took off the plane flew east and then north over the mountains of Iran before turning west and flying 14 hours west.
