Doha, Qatar

Shortly after writing my last post from Bahrain, I returned to my hotel. At the front door I was frisked by a security guard, then there was another security guard at the elevators who asked my room number and needed to see my key to prove I was actually staying there. Then at the top of the elevators there was another uniformed security guard and a guy in a suit and tie. OK, which Saudi prince came down for some poonanny? The next morning upon arrival at Bahrain International Airport I was dismayed to see signs asserting that the liquids and gels rule, which I thought only applied to the US and UK, was being enforced. I unpacked my luggage and quickly got all the liquids I had into the only ziploc bag I had with me, which I think was too big anyway. However, it didn't seem like anyone at the security checkpoint had even heard of these rules, and they were definitely not being enforced. Bahrain Air always reads an Islamic prayer before take off. I'm sure many Westerners aren't exactly comforted by a prayer being read in Arabic aboard an aircraft. Qatari immigration went fast for a change. Interestingly, it was staffed entirely by women in black robes and headscarfs. "You have visa?" "No." "Credit card, please." No cash is accepted for visas, only Visa or MasterCard. If you don't have one of these, then you have no business being in Qatar. The signs past immigration indicated to the left for limousines, to the right for taxis. I don't know who would pay for a limousine because all the taxis were Jaguars driven by men in suits and ties. It was the single most expensive taxi ride of my entire traveling career. My funds have shrunk exponentially since arriving in the Gulf, but it's worth it. I'm staying in Qatar's cheapest hotel, and even this place has a bellboy. For people like me who don't need help carrying one tiny suitcase and for whom tipping these people blows my budget, this is really annoying. I did give the nice guy from Nepal (first person I've ever met from Nepal) a tip. Once he left, I looked into my wallet and felt really bad because I realized I had tipped him in Bahraini dinars! When you change currency ever two days, you don't realize which one you're dealing with. I went back downstairs and apologized to him. He understood and politely showed me the place down the street where I could change money. This was awkward because I've always thought tipping should be rather discreet and undiscussed. Doha's corniche is the nicest corniche I've seen so far, but the endless string of American fast food restaurants and Krispy Kreme Donuts is strangely absent. It's extremely hot. I can't even imagine what it's like in summer. Walking along the corniche I saw a mirage in the distance - a little stand with a sign advertising "Your favorite drinks." As I got closer, I noticed that the "Your favorite drinks" in the picture were all cups of hot coffee. Was this some kind of sick joke? As I got closer, I indeed saw people walking away from here with cups of steaming hot tea. This is winter, and I guess this is as cold as it gets. I did get a bottle of water from here, which was imported from Saudi Arabia. Although water isn't one of Saudi Arabia's more well known exports, I suppose it's preferrable to drinking water from Qatar (pronounced in the local dialect very close to the English word "gutter"). I decided I should shave my beard off to avoid being mistaken for Indian ever again. I did have barber shop shaves in Dahab and Damascus, but it had been a while. I had a disposable razor floating around in my luggage somewhere which I kept for emergencies like this one. I went hunting for shaving cream, which was not easy to find because most people just get shaves in the barber shops here. When I finally found some, it was some weird thing imported from Hungary. It came in a metal tube and looked more like toothpaste that you were supposed to spread over your face. I guess this is what our grandfather's in the States used, but I guarantee you nobody in my generation has ever seen anything like it. Tomorrow I'm taking an Air Arabia flight to Sharjah, Dubai's ghetto airport.