Before jumping into the tale of Qatar, I need to make a few more observations about the uprising in Bahrain. Not more than three days after departing the country on 10 February ordinary people began staging major political protests: demanding a new constitution with true democracy. Some have been calling for the end of the monarchy, though the majority would seem to settle for limits on the king's present absolute powers.

According to one report early in the unrest, the king offered to give every citizen a cash payoff to end the protests, but that only exacerbated the discontent. In my last postcard from Bahrain you will recall my conversations with the off duty bus driver and the accountant. Both confirmed a general dissatisfaction with the king and his unlimited powers suggesting the sentiment might be widespread. The developments of the past few days have confirmed that suspicion.

So, once again I find my travels of curious exploration at the periphery of political turmoil. For a brief moment I wondered if my website reports of irreverent comments about the king of Bahrain by some of his subjects might have contributed in any way to the eruption of violence, but I doubt it. The deep and pervasive discontent long predates my presence on the scene. Still, one never knows for sure; it only takes a tiny spark to trigger an explosion!

When I reached Qatar it felt immediately familiar. Nearly everyone I met spoke understandable English and behaved much like people in Western countries. In fact, most of the infrastructure is indistinguishable from that in many American cities. There are many home grown copies of American fast food outlets being developed in this region. Wannabe Mc Donald's hamburger joints and copycat Pizza Huts sit side by side with their American inspirations. Of course, signs usually include Arabic as well as English translations, but few are in Arabic only, no doubt due to the fact that most residents of Qatar (as high as eighty percent) are foreign guest workers, so English is the common language for the majority.

Pedestrians I meet on the street have been unusually friendly, often greeting me with a smile and a warm "hello," something rare in the other Persian Gulf countries I've visited. Many people carry and use two separate cell phones! I never did figure out the purpose of this strange behavior. Could it simply be a status symbol? It seems unlikely they could all be drug dealers as everyone denies there is a substance abuse problem in Qatar.

With television news reports focused on the spreading civil unrest around the Middle East, CNN just reported a study of the Gulf states that shows Qatar to be least likely to experience social or economic disruptions in the near term. Most likely to see trouble is Yemen, with Libya a close second. Looks like that explains why I had trouble getting a visa for Yemen during my visit to Oman.

The most memorable feature of Doha is its extraordinary architecture. The city center skyline as seen from a distance is spectacular. I took a lot of pictures from the Corniche walk across the bay. A whimsical architect with a twisted sense of humor must have been responsible for some of the sky scraper designs: one building actually spirals as it rises to the heavens and another looks like a giant inflated silver condom.

During my worldwide roaming I have seen evidence that the world's best infrastructural designs are slowly permeating every corner of the globe. Eventually, if the trend continues, everywhere could look like everywhere else. Professional designers have always understood that aesthetics can go hand in hand with utility so structures grow more beautiful with every passing generation. And why not? Protecting life from the wild elements is only one function of shelter. Beauty also protects human life from depressingly ugly clutter and threatening visual disorientation.

A long planned causeway connecting Bahrain and Qatar has been repeatedly postponed and there is some question now if it will ever be completed. If and when it is finished, travel between the two Persian Gulf countries will be reduced to a short hour's drive. As things stand now, the only connections are by air or through Saudi Arabia by special permission and visas. For some reason there is no water ferry connecting the two countries despite the fact they are a mere fifty kilometers apart.

Many women wear colorfully trimmed black Abayahs.  The dishdashah, a white gown worn by men have collars and cuffs like western dress shirts. On one of my long bus rides out to the desert suburbs of Doha I discovered how dust storms can cause choking even inside tightly closed buses. Scarves worn by Arabs are more than fashion statements; they serve as emergency dust masks as well; very practical. It always seems so incongruous to see a splash of color or sparkling rhinestones decorating an all black garment that covers every part of a woman's body but her eyes. Frankly, I find the pervasive cover up rather disturbing... absolute nonsense. Are Muslim women so weak willed they cannot resist the unwanted advances of undesirable men? Are Muslim men so insecure they fear their wives might stray?

Why has there been no rebellion demanding more freedom of choice when it comes to an individual's personal attire? It appears to me that "freedom" is an alien concept associated with the infidel; after all, Islam means SUBMISSION! While freedom is like a breath of fresh air, the stifling constraint of a repressive religion or an authoritarian government is like a breath of fresh water.

When I am thankful, to whom do I give thanks? It is a dilemma for non-believers. Gratitude seems to demand a recipient! When circumstances alone produce wonderful benefits, our minds long for contact with a benefactor. When there is none, many are led to invent one... or grasp at one previously invented by their culture. Never mind no objective evidence supports the invention; peace of mind demands it! It is so satisfying; it needs no justification! Back in my Unitarian days we used to joke that our prayers were directed "to whom it may concern." I suppose that is as good as a feathered serpent god or a deity with the head of an elephant or an invisible gray bearded old man watching from the clouds.

I have noticed that minarets come in two flavors: wet and dry, identified by covered or uncovered platforms for the muezzins. In the days when the human voice alone called the faithful, muezzins surely would have gotten wet on rainy days standing on the exposed parapets. With so many simultaneous calls to prayer five times a day, one might think the yellers were competing with one another for customers: "Come to our mosque; god listens more carefully here and appreciates any demonstration of submission, however perfunctory." There are similarities with the clamor of television commercials promoting competing brands of the same product category: "Drink Coca-Cola; it tastes best. No, take the Pepsi challenge and see why more people prefer Pepsi."

My campaign to alert the world to the hazards of social hand shaking leads me to observe that Islam guarantees people will wash their hands frequently, at least five time a day for Sunni and three times for Shi'a. That certainly is one good consequence of the faith. I also note that "God" is a word with an abrupt termination when spoken whereas "Allah" is a word that ends in a long vowel and naturally adapts to being drawn out by the human voice. The sustained sounds in the call to prayer throughout the Muslim world is an understandable consequence of this fact, I suspect.

After a brief three night respite back in Dubai returning from Bahrain I quickly arranged a cheap FlyDubai Airline flight to Doha, the capital city of the Gulf State of Qatar. The immigration encounter at the airport confused me: a spiffy uniformed twenty something dark skinned middle-eastern woman in theatrical makeup mumbled something totally unintelligible and then became exasperated because I failed to respond as she expected, finally calling a colleague over to repeat her command in understandable English. What she had said turned out to be: "Pay the one hundred QR fee with a credit card only!" as if I should know she wanted a visa fee and that it could only be paid with an international credit card! That resolved, customs with nothing to declare meant walking right on out to the arrival lounge and terminal exit. As there were no city buses visible in the transportation area I followed the moving traffic out to the highway as it turned to the right toward the night glow of skyscrapers.

What no one tells visitors is that there are TWO airport terminals: one for arrivals and one for departures... separated by a fifteen minute shuttle bus ride. Public city buses service only the departure terminal, so arriving passengers never see the buses. I discovered this important piece of information as I made ready to depart the city. Arriving passengers may take the free shuttle bus over to the departure terminal, walk out to the road passing the airport and board any of the north bound city buses which head into the central city bus station. At the central bus station one can board a number 19 bus to reach the airport bus stop in front of the departure terminal.

Not more than twenty minutes into my usual hotel shopping trudge toward the bright city lights I stumbled on the 350 Qatar Riyal ($96) Al Siraaj Doha Inn Hotel-Apartments. Now pretty much immune to the fatal forms of the sticker shock virus and knowing all hotel night clerks love to play the exorbitant rack rate, but current rate actually... and finally: I can offer you the very special rate of... game, I quickly decided this fairly decent one bedroom apartment would be my first nighter. Never mind the touted Internet connection and included instant coffee pot didn't work, or that the included "breakfast" turned out to be a couple muffins and a cup of coffee. The king size bed lulled me to sleep quickly after turning off the television set with a hundred satellite channels.

The next morning off I trotted on the continuation of my standard hotel shopping hike. I walked the entire length of the justly famous Corniche shoreline pathway and scoured every nook and cranny for promising hotels, but found very few. As muscles began to complain in the fading evening light and old blisters threatened to scream bloody murder if I didn't give them some rest, desperation slowly enveloped my rational mind. When I saw the Doha Tower Hotel sign a block away all resistance faded and the elderly night clerk had an easy sell, though I did insist on being provided a second sheet to be sure my body only touched clean linen in the bed. At 200 Qatar Riyals (about $55) I figured for one night I could handle the squalor. Sleep fought with the brain all night as I thought of the grime that covered every part of the room, and wondered if taking a shower with the faulty plumbing could be fatal as scalding hot water came out of both taps.

That morning I tumbled out of bed, wrestled with the cantankerous water faucets, crammed all my belongings hurriedly back into the pack and scurried out into the breaking dawn looking for something to eat and a more agreeable place to lay my head for the next night. All of the decent hotels I checked offered painful sticker shock in addition to major short comings until I found the four star Swiss Belhotel Doha. It too rattled my fiscal sensibilities, but I found the facilities deluxe in every way. 

Pondering the astronomical posted room rates I nearly turned around and left the place without another thought. But, the office manager and I began talking about his home country, Lebanon and the next thing I knew I began to seriously consider spending 600 QR ($165) per night in order to be pampered for a while... deliberately recalling the epiphany reasoning of a few weeks earlier. So, that is where this postcard is being penned. The Internet access is perfect and I have my choice of three desk computers in the nicely equipped Business Center or the fast wired connection in my oh so comfy room, albeit using the tiny Netbook keyboard. The room itself is gigantic, the bathroom alone is as large as the entire room I'd tolerated the previous night. The breakfast buffet here is elegant... as it ought to be for $23!

Photos taken of works of art in the city are here. The pictures taken in and around the Souq Waqif are here. The rest of the pictures are here.

Walking changes one's perspective. The olfactory sense is treated to a constantly changing banquet of smells from all the human activities on the street: street foods cooking, sanitation people sweeping up dust storms, fancy dressers with their perfume vapors trailing, wet dogs shaking off the bath, trucks passing with cargo adding unique odors to the mix. Exotic sounds join the more mundane to create an Arabian symphony like none other anywhere else in the world. Perambulating with eyes so close to my feet I see things like rubber bands, columns of scurrying ants, colorful beetle juice splats, clusters of cigarette butts near the side doors of office buildings, paper clips and more, ordinary things totally invisible from most other vantage points.

One day while exploring the interesting surprises along the sidewalks of the city I discovered  the Doha Islamic Cultural Center. While there I enjoyed a long conversation with Isa, one of the educators and outreach directors. We explored moderate attitudes toward religion in general, evolution-Qur'an conflicts specifically, and crazy religious extremists' found in all traditions. Like me, he considers violent expressions of any religion despicable and says he speaks out against that form of Islamic jihad whenever the opportunity arises. I considered him surprisingly open minded for a Muslim.

His university training in Islamic studies prepared him for in depth confrontations with infidels like me. The Center employs him to "educate" non-Muslim visitors to Doha and to avoid any off-putting aggressive evangelizing, something I greatly appreciated. We touched briefly on the subject of Eastern verses Western morality and I wondered aloud if Muslim youth suffered from sexual inhibitions as I see very little graffiti and no pornography at all. There are no safe sex promotional posters nor condom dispensers in men's rooms anywhere throughout the Gulf States. Anti-AIDS education is conspicuous by its absence. In fact, I have just learned that this important health problem in the Muslim world is generally ignored because all discussion of the HIV/AIDS subject is taboo to the point that many believe a Muslim is immune to the virus, that the infection is strictly an infidel affliction! Wow!

This completes the "postcard" from Qatar, so I'll close and continue preparations for a return to Bangkok from where my flight home leaves in a few weeks.

Peace

Fred L Bellomy