Doha and All That Jazz

So this bloody blog was delayed many many times, and since coming back from Doha I fell into this stupid ass flu and have not been able to sit properly for longer than 15 minutes on the computer without my tears tearing. Not the ideal way to write away. So bear with me as we switch back and forth, present and past, now and oh whatever, you get the picture.

So I write now sitting at Doha airport drinking a tepid cup of Chamomile tea whilst an angry child screams to high heaven as the surrounding passenger try to ignore the quiet mother who politely tries to steer away from the truth that she’s forgetting her son and focusing on watching the mute but still scenes of Oprah’s latest tirade. So as I sit here contemplating whether I should simply; move, stick bubblegum (watermelon flavor) in my ear, or simply dive headfirst through the window onto the tarmac, I am greeted with a sight that simultaneously amuses me and also makes me cringe at the human race. A man strolls into the lounge, wearing a white suit with orange stripes, a red baseball hat proudly stating Panasonic, and a white t-shirt with what seems to be ketchup and mustard stains but still displaying the words “I love Jetskis”. After rustling in, imagine John Wayne with a hernia, standing and looking around like the trumpets should have played upon his entrance, he steps two feet and trips on the carpet flat on his face.

It’s been a long time since I laughed so hard, and one of the few times I laughed so hard I actually fell out of my chair. Needless to say, he did not appreciate my take on this incident, and glared at me before rustling on away.

And it's been so long since I've written, mea culpa. Things have been so busy that finding time to sit and let my thoughts settle has been a chore. So of all places sitting in my robe in room #1916 of the Movenpick Suites Doha last night I let my thoughts unfold only to find that the internet connection was not working. A quick call to the reception informed me that QTel, the local telecoms provider here in Qatar had some issues. So this update on the world of Keshi Ko comes a few days delayed, but none diluted.

So the week so far started off well, Saturday brought about a coffee and walk with a very nice Australian individual, where it’s been a long time since meeting someone has brought forth natural and comfortable conversation. Where does it go from here? Let’s see upon return to Dubai if a good meal and conversation is next to follow! She’s beautiful, honest, traveled and it’s been so long I’ve realized how much I miss the Auzzie sense of humor and take on life. Let’s see if this trend continues.

So Tuesday early morning I took the wonderful 8:30am Emirates flight to Doha, (and of course I LOVE waking up so early), so already it was a bad morning for things to go wrong. The flight had a LOT of turbulence, and flying in a metal tube where it shakes violently freaks the hell out of me. Not really my preferred choice morning activities. Now part of flying is the mystique one gets of being anonymous, and having the chance to mingle amongst the anonymous and bizarre people you don’t know. Even though you know nothing of name or origin, you share some strange kinship, akin to the ones smokers have when they meet in the smoking area, like different cattle of different herds grazing on a pasture they’ve happened to find at the same time. I’ve always wondered, and come up with this theory, which for now I shall call the “A2R Theory”. Now, when going to a boarding gate at the airport, inevitably you will see an attractive man/woman, traveling alone. You look at them and think, wow, there’re quite the eyeful. You think to yourself that maybe the hands of fate and almighty powers will send this person to sit next to you, where you find out when you start talking they share the same love and compassion for things you do; i.e. reading, long walks on beach, listening to Edith Pilaf while on lithium, learning sign language while bungee jumping, etc . . . and by this chance encounter you get of the plane together and as fate delays both your ongoing flights and coffee turns into dinner turns into dancing turns into 40 years of marriage and the best damn original love story since Gone with the Wind which almost never got made as Cary Grant was still smarting from the failure of his last costume drama, "Parnell" in 1937, but that my friends, is a tale for another time.

So arriving at gate 34, I saw her. Tall but not too tall, about 5 foot 11, long dark hair just down to her shoulders, leaned against the glass wall tapping her feet while reading a book. Back jeans, white shirt and brown jacket, and casual sneakers. A woman who takes priority in comfort over style has high points in my book. With a beautiful smile and fiercely deep eyes, and chewing on her hair looking at me as I walked past (almost into a couple pushing a trolley of what must be all the duty-free booze in the airport) with a delightful smirk of a grin, it seemed it would be a good flight.

So what happens after you board is that you sit in your seat, nonchalant, your iPod and book, (at this point I must mention the “Smart Book Theory”, which was presented to me by an old college friend, Jerome Davis. He believed you proportionally increased your chances of meeting people in places of transit, i.e. planes, trains or even train stations, buses and their stations, coffee shops, etc., if you held in your hands a novella that was unique due to its title, color, binding, or other individual facet that attracted the other person to you and your “unique” taste. Of course I argued that when meeting you the other person would start the conversation about that said book, but sadly that point was lost on Jerome. Looking at the alumni website now, Jerome still works at the travel agency in downtown Northbridge in Perth, and I believe his success rate is still a paltry 0.1%. A girl once approached him but mistook him for someone else.), minding your own business when walking down the aisle comes this said individual, when lo and behold, they sit next to you. You try and play cool, have an element of the Fonz with you and think of a witty way to start conversation with this person (who always smells just like they stepped out of the shower whilst you are already sweating from running through the terminal or catching your 4th flight in a row), when all of a sudden some goliath of a person, usually the opposite of your gender stands at your row and starts discussing something with your adjacent angel. Who is this person? And how dare they interrupt the flow of conversation that was waiting to be born and start flowing? It turns out that they are sadly the practical form of reality, here to tell the person sitting next to you that they are in the wrong seat and should actually be sitting 5 rows down. The attractive man/woman (who could in all forms of parallel universe realities be the love of your life) smiles at you politely, in the kindest smile one can muster having had a 2 minute relationship with no dialogue, and walks away. I don’t think I need to explain who takes their seat. Now one could argue here that you could get up, walk over to where that person was seating now, and start up a conversation with them. I unfortunately, lack that element of soul called courage, at least in these matters, and am relegated to disappointment and turning up the music as loud as possible in drowning up the regret singing in my mind. So such was the flight into Doha.

So straight into the office I dove right into the presentations I was there to go through, and 7 hours later I left to go check in. Now with the Four Seasons full (which I must mention has the best rain showers outside of the ones at the Bali Hyatt), I was put up at the Movenpick Suite Tower. I was very impressed with the room, especially with the amount of upgrading Movenpick has been going through the last four years, in a strategic move to redefine the brand as people know it to a more upscale hotel chain. This my friends, is definitely a step in the right direction. The rooms remind me of a very modern and clean look, something I remember seeing at Park Hyatts back in the day. The room had a nice 32inch Samsung LCD, and though not a fan of the brand it’s always nice to get an aesthetically pleasing piece of equipment in the room. The colors are warm and welcoming, and interesting enough similar to that I have in my bedroom back room, which I don’t know was funny or just freaky.

The view from the 19th floor was quite nice, though the towers of the Four Seasons Hotels blocked some of it, it was still a good view of the harbor surrounding Doha. Now what I loved here, was the pillows. Pay close attention people, and pay VERY close attention hoteliers and motel owners. This is what hotel pillows should look like. Fluffly. Inviting. Soft. Incredibly oversized. These were pillows that when you sunk your head into them you just wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep. I absolutely loved them, and have to say I have two of the best nights sleep that I’ve had in a long time thanks to those pillows.

After some rest and a nice hot shower, (rain shower was there but nothing special), I decided to go the City Center mall to take a look around and pick up some things from the supermarket. I usually hate sitting in the hotel room and always prefer to travel around in the city I’m in. So while I’m there I decide to stop in Carrefour, the ubiquitous stop for buying mass random stuff. After some wanderings, and failed attempt to locate a Nintendo DS, (they only had pink ones), I came across the chips section. Now I’ve been a Pringles fan for many years now, though I’ve tried to eat healthy now since quitting smoking it’s been a while since I’ve seen the smiling mustache man. Who is this man anyways? Why does he have only a mustache and eyebrows? Why am I the only one concerned with these questions? So I came across this flavor that I’ve never seen before. Light Aromas Paprika with a touch of Olive Extract. What the HELL is that? What happened to good old Original? To Salt & Vinegar? To even Sour Cream & Onion? Nevertheless, I bought one to try. I also picked up some Poppa Dums, from some random generic brand I never heard of. Hey, if they can fit poppadums in a can, who am I to complain? If it up to me, I would eat poppadums or parper with every meal I had. So trying the Pringles, one word comes to mind as I taste the sprinking of paprika with a touch of olive extract. Crap. If people wanted the taste of Pringles transformed into this pseudo healthy Mediterranean like version of plastic, they would ask for it. And I’m pretty sure they didn’t. Verdict 2 out of 10. The poppadums didn’t fare to well either. With such boasts on the bottom such as no cholesterol, no yeast, no preservatives, they should have also added no taste. Now as much as it’s probably good that it’s not deep fried as the original is, so much of the oily aftertaste along with that crisp aroma is lost. As a slight memento to remind of me of my nani’s cooking, maybe, but as a confident companion to Indian food, sadly the verdict 4 out of 10. After going to the gym to kill myself on the rowing machine for a while, and a quick dinner later, I started plugging away on the laptop finishing up adjustments to some presentations.

Now I’m a big fan of comfort food and giving in to your cravings, and at around 1:30am I had this intense craving for a banana split. Now what I’ve always loved, (and to be honest, who doesn’t?), is Room Service. A 20 second phone call later, through which I asked the chef on duty to make the mother of all banana splits, this arrived. Now THAT is a banana split, and something to make calorie watcher split their pants. Literally. Hey what the hell, you only live once right?

The next day after long meetings I decided to walk along the Corniche, which was quite full around 6:30pm when I set out. Unfortunately Dubai doesn’t have one, whilst Abu Dhabi has a great cornice one can walk around. Here I took the chance to take some shots again, experimenting with my camera. It’s a beautiful area to walk, and I regretted not coming with my running shoes and relegated only to walking. The weather was still cool and breezy, allowing for a multitude of people going about their daily activities, lovers hand in hand, local Qatari woman covered from head to toe in Nikes and Reeboks exercising, muscle bound spandex wearing runners flying past that never ending finish line, and simple me, walking without rhyme or reason.

Here are some pics of the random walk of the corniche.

Look at what he's wearing as he's "not" swimming:

And one of the greatest things I've seen in a long time:

What a beautiful, varied world we live in.