Attack of the Environmentalists.

You've got to be f*&#ing kidding me. The basis of the article (linked in the title above) is that some hippie-freak-pink0-commie-tree-hugger who used to advise the leader of the free world is a major part of an organization who plans to unveil a 'cause' to give Mother Nature her own human-rights. Yes, you read that correctly, folks. The Earth gets human rights. Who cares about the Chinese, oppressed people in Africa, women all over the world who are viewed as incubators and not humans... we've got to give Mother Earth her rights. When the hell did we all become freaking Druids?

This is ridiculous. It trivializes every bit of work any humanitarian has ever put into providing human rights to any one on the inanimate object that they're trying to give rights. If you want to recycle, go ahead. Want to turn the medians in your neighborhood into a raised bed? Please do. Lets even work on technologies that do really cool 'eco-friendly' things. But human rights to a planet? And don't start giving me that awful argument about how the planet can't fight for itself. It's ridiculous. It's insane. It makes me so damned angry that this is even an issue. I can't even actually describe how frustrating this is in the face of every other actually relevant thing that these great minds should be worried about solving. I'm actually half-surprised I can even type because after somebody from some worthless South American country said that capitalism is the enemy of the earth I started spitting tacks.

I'm reading Michael Chrichton's "The State of Fear" and it is fabulous. At one point one of his characters says, "the only thing worse than a champagne-liberal is a Gulfstream environmentalist." And what is Mr. Jones doing? He's headquartered in LA and jet-setting off to Rio for an environmental conference planned on a date suspiciously close to Festival.

Yes, we should be considerate of our environment... after all, we don't want to look like we live on the set of Idiocracy. But do we really need to spend millions of dollars trying to pass legislation and spearheading and international initiative to give Mother Nature, the Earth, this really large piece of gravitationally controlled rock human rights? I know, and fully believe that God gave us this Earth and it is ours to take care of but... c'mon people.

Plant your trees, recycle your water bottles, but please for goodness sake... drop the get-the-whole-world-involved-so-the-cause-will-make-money marketing crap.

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In Other News, I made home-made donuts today. That is all.

(No really, that's basically all I've done today.)

What Tolerance Looks Like

With Easter upon us, and many people looking forward to adding whatever they gave up 40 days ago back into their lives, its amazing how much of it I’m surrounded by here in Doha.  It’s a Muslim country, right?  Then why the Easter sales?  Why the Easter brunches?  Why the chocolate bunnies and eggs?  Because it’s just another commercial holiday that has nothing to do with the resurrection of Christ… partially.

The other part is that the Muslims are actually quite tolerant of Christianity.  Crazy, huh?  My American friend and I went shopping today on the Pearl and realized that there were all kinds of Easter things going on.  When we discussed this with one of the shop girls (Indian) she said “Just wait until Christmas.”  We both said, “Wait… what?”  Apparently Christmas is lights, and pageantry and Christmas trees in all of the shopping malls and gifts, gifts gifts.  Sure, they miss the whole point of it being the celebration of the birth of Christ and one of the largest events on the Church calendar but… they still do it.  We asked if anyone tries to stop the celebrations, or if they’re offended, and she said, “No, why would they?”  like we had just asked the dumbest question ever.

Tolerance isn’t what the US makes it out to be.  It isn’t welcoming everyone and everything with wide open arms no matter how it affects our society, and then throwing a fit when something offends our delicate sensibilities.  Tolerance is saying, “Yeah, we’re a Muslim country.  Cover your shoulders up but please, have the Christmas tree… oh, and do you have enough plastic colored eggs for this weekend?”  They even had a Muslim man on a sign at the mall handing a presumably English man an Easter egg.

When we thanked the girl and left the store she said, “enjoy your religious festival!” (her English was great… but some things just sound funny).  If everybody in Qatar has that attitude then this may be the greatest Easter and then, eventually, Christmas ever.  Sure they use X-Mas to write everything but in chrismons “x” is the symbol for Christ so I’m not too worried about that.  And maybe they’re into the commercial side of it but they’re going to let me have my Christmas… no matter what they personally believe.  And, this Easter, I get to go to Church and celebrate who we want… because this Muslim country is tolerant.  No making concessions for their feelings or being careful not to offend because they know we won’t.  They know if they’re polite about it we will be too. 

Take note, liberals.  I’m feeling more tolerance for our beliefs in the Middle East than I did in the states.

In Other News, I walked around in a $2300 pair of heels for about half an hour today.  They were the “standard” heel height (15cm, which is 5.9in) and were covered in grey crystals (the pink ones are pictured).  The sole of the shoe was coated in silver glitter and I was in love (to be honest, the picture online does no justice to the shoe itself… they’re sparkly and decadent and amazing and not nearly as clumsy as the picture makes them look).

  They let me “try them out” and just asked me to bring them back when I had decided.  Life, and shoes, is good.

Statistical Observations

William showed be how to view the stats on my blog today (how is it that he's been on here just a few months and I've been writing for years and didn't know these existed?).

I'd like to state for the record that 15 people in Iran have read my blog and I haven't received a single angry e-mail from any of them. All the angry e-mails I've ever received have been from Americans (and always from people I knew personally).
Also, the ways that people have found my blog are pretty amusing as well. Why would anyone Google "men who own cats"? I really don't want to be a link in someones search for their cat-owning soul-mate or creepy Google image search.









Also, Staci... you're practically my publicist. I'm not sure if you should be concerned that people are googling you so often or excited that you are such a popular google search. Either way... thank you. :)

Acclimating.

It has been freakishly rainy over here lately. Instead of the two days a year of rain that usually occurs we've had ten days of rain. Granted, they count anything that drips from the sky as rain but still... a little drizzle out here goes a very long way toward flooding the streets to a remarkably high level.

Because of the rain the weather has been a bit cooler (read: absolutely lovely) and just about everyone is taking the chance to be out during the day for a bit longer than is usual this time of year. I've been told, though, that this won't keep up and within another week or two we'll be back at 98degrees (Fahrenheit) and I'll have to turn our A/C on again.

The title of my blog doesn't entirely apply to the weather though. I'm getting used to running around not understanding half of what anyone (including the English) says, being treated differently because I'm a white woman, and being called 'madame' by everyone who's from any country besides the UK, USA and Qatar.

As far as the language barrier is concerned it is amazing how vastly different the English language is depending on where someone learned it. We have friends from Yorkshire who are harder than Eliza Doolittle's father to understand and then another friend from Nigeria who is the funniest, sweetest man but is nearly impossible to understand. On the other hand, my usage of context clues in order to carry on a conversation has increased exponentially. It's fascinating how varied the vocabularies are as well. You think that everyone knows what s'mores or molasses is, and that everyone knows the "six of one, half dozen of another" figure of speech but... they don't. It's cultural. Every version of the English language is influenced by so much more than your region, what languages your parents speak. It takes a huge hint from the culture you grow up in. We have a Dutch friend who says "shall" and "oughtn't" like they're words that everyone in the world uses everyday. But, often times, the only times you'll hear words like that in a conversation is if you're speaking to a very polite Southern lady in a very proper situation or someone is speaking Legalese.

Granted, I feel like I knew all this before... I just hadn't sat down to examine in. It's like this place puts a magnifying glass on everything that was, prior to coming here, just part of traveling. Or, possibly, this is the first time I've lived overseas since we were in Iceland (and I was 5). Other than that is was a month or so here, and a month or so there. Either way, I'm appreciating the differences, appreciating the culture I've grown up around and (inevitably) expanding my vocabulary.

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In Other News, we got our household goods shipment today so I need to go unpack! I'm so excited to have my guitar back. If you need me, I'll be in the backyard playing. Don't bother calling... I can't hear the phone from there. :)

A Whole New World

There is a lot about my world that has changed lately. First and foremost, I packed my bags and moved to Doha, Qatar where my civil-engineer of a husband is working for the Army Corps of Engineers. Second, I'm back in the job market and searching has never seemed so tedious. Finally, after only having spent about two weeks together this entire year we're now up to three weeks. Being the individualists that we are, living together again is requiring some adjusting... but that's not the big story here.

I've never been quite this culture shocked before. Amazed at the differences, yes. But truly surprised? Not until now...

The first night I was here the call to prayer woke me up at about 4:30am. Granted, I had heard the sound before but it gave me the same eerie feeling it had previously. The first time I had heard it was in Guantanamo Bay as I was coming out of the water on Windmill beach just a stones throw from the detention camps. It was about 3:00pm, the sun was still pretty high, there was little to no wind but you could hear the Azan (call to prayer) very clearly. My bikini-clad, red-blooded, American self fully appreciated the irony of being scantily clad on some of the best beach real estate in the world in the midst of the Muslim call to prayer. But the sound still gave me goosebumps.

Since then I've heard Azan five times a day for the past six days and it has become quite commonplace. My husband likens it to hearing the liturgical singing that is done in a lot of Christian churches, particularly the very traditional Lutheran ones I've suggested we attend. It really is fairly similar. Sure, the cadences and language are different but the concepts and the intent both encompass the same things... solemnity, respect and spirituality.

A large number of Americans find the call to prayer as unusual as I used to, some think its a sign of fanaticism. I've had people tell me that they believe only an extremist religion would require the followers to pray five times a day. But the Azan is just a reminder to Muslims that they need to pray, whether it be at that exact moment or not makes no difference. Now, I really enjoy the call to prayer, the song is a nice familiar part of my day and often I take that time to say a little prayer of my own.

There is another axiom of Islam that I'm having a lot more trouble with than I had thought I would.

We all know the women have to be covered. Their varying degrees of cover are decided by their families. Some women are allowed to go out in blue jeans, long sleeves and a head covering while others absolutely must be covered head-to-toe with black fabric, including gloves and shoe-coverings in the same material. I find myself trying to look past the veil over their faces and see if there really is a person in there. With the women who only have to cover their heads, and wear modest clothing, its obvious that they're individuals. They're all on their hot pink cell phones, wearing Louboutin heels, walking up and down the main drag in the Souq like they're trolling for fish. They've got spark to them, they laugh, they're beautiful. But it's the women who walk two steps behind their husband, fully covered, holding a squirming child's hand and not saying a word that bothers me.

Now, I've never been much of a feminist. Yes, I have always wanted to build a career, an impressive resume and be respected for my professional skills but if my husband wants pie with dinner then I'm going to make sure I have all of the ingredients necessary for homemade pie crust and filling and by the way, would you like some coffee with that, honey?

But these women just seem so hidden. No one is, legally, allowed to look at them but they stare to try and discover even a fragment of a figure under the burqas. They shuffle around in small groups, usually with a few small children with them, and seem to come and go like ghosts. I know they're there, they're obviously standing in the grocery line in front of me, but it doesn't seem like there is an actual person there. I know it's just clothing, it is just a few layers of fabric but I feel like there's an entire universe separating myself from these women.

It makes me wish I could do something for them. Introduce myself to them and be a friend. Give them someone or something outside of their sheltered world. But that's not my place. And that's not the way the Middle East works. Partially because I'm stared at and ignored as well.

The other night a man asked if he could use the extra chair that was at our table while William, our neighbor Harry and I were out to dinner. He specifically said, "Sir, would you mind if I used this chair?" and I answered "Oh of course not." But he wouldn't take the chair until a second later when William spoke up and said "Of course". I didn't even notice the man's hesitation until William explained to me that not only was the man definitely not talking to me, he wasn't going to take an answer from me either.

The other thing I'm getting used to is the social hierarchy. The Qataris are at the very top of the food chain. You cannot get any higher in status unless you're a Qatari with "His Highness" or "His Excellency" in front of your name. The second tier? White people. Whether you're American, Australian, British, Canadian or any other variation of White you've got privileges. Privileges that I'm not quite used to. The other day we were in the VIP box at the Racing and Equestrian Center for H.H. the Emir of the State of Qatar's Swords and Trophies Race. I had such a hard time giving orders to the Phillipino girl's waiting on us that I couldn't bring myself to hand the girl my half-empty plate and ask her to take it away because I was done. I wanted to find somewhere, a table or bus-cart or something, to leave it. I didn't just want to hand it over and say, "Oh and could you bring me another mango juice?" (p.s. Not even kidding about the mango juice, it's delicious) I wanted to be the one who was being nice to them, who was treating them like more than the help. But by doing so I was making myself look silly because over here there's still a caste system that is alive and well. Not just well, it's thriving. Everything from public beaches to the Souqs to places of employment works the same way. I can't get a job as a cleaning lady because that is reserved for the Ethiopian or Syrian women, I can't work as a nanny because that's a job (along with waitstaff) for Phillipino women. The public beaches charge 3,500 QR (Qatari Riyal) for 'tickets' to the beach so that the 'riff-raff' can't just come and flood the beaches. Otherwise you would have thousands, literally, of Southeastern Asian men crowding the beaches. William says that they cordon off the malls and lock certain doors so that the day-laborers who go on their day off can only be in certain areas and not bother the rest of the population. The Qataris don't want to be bothered by the help and so the help are all corralled like cattle and that's just the way it works over here.

I think I'm going to continue to grapple with the idea that the only reason I'm given any luxuries or leeway is because I'm white and my husband is a white male. My post-civil rights-movement sensibilities all tell me that this is wrong (we're all humans aren't we?) but it's just the way life is over here... and not just here but in a lot of other places in the world. I guess, no matter how much traveling I've done I'm still astounded at how incredibly naive I can be.

This is my first experience outside of the normal North American travel spheres (Eastern Asia to Western Europe) and I'm going to make the absolute best out of every moment we have here whether its for a year or five. However, that doesn't mean that I'll ever truly assimilate. Keep an eye out for my name in headlines... I can't guarantee there won't be an international incident or two.

Also, yes, I will probably be making Aladdin references from now until the day we move out. You might as well go watch the movie with your kids so will have the same song stuck in your head, too.

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In Other News, our house is amazing. We're turning one of the three bedrooms into an office/computer room and the second bedroom will still be a guest room (come visit!). Our bedroom is so great, it's almost like two adults live here. :) We've already gotten to go out and experience so much. This weekend we're going to go camping. I think I'm going to talk William into heading to the Singing Dunes. I've heard they're just beyond belief. Finally, we have a MagicJack now so once the internet is a bit more consistent I'll be sure to make some calls!

Weather in Doha today: High of 84, 57% humidity. Low of 73, 55% humidity. Slightly overcast.