Where in the world is Doha?

When I landed at Doha, a car was waiting to transfer me to the terminal. I looked at the outside temperature gauge on the car’s dash. It read 50 degrees (122 Fahrenheit). Now the car was sitting on the tarmac for some time, but still the outside temperature was probably pushing 45 degrees. I didn’t try frying an egg on the sidewalk, but I bet I could have made an omelet.

Doha is a city of different faces, and as a result it’s difficult to get a good feel for it on such a quick visit. The old part of town contains a lot of low-level office blocks, many of which are being torn down and replaced with more modern structures. There are many vacant, rubble filled lots and buildings partially torn down. Across the bay is the new Doha, where gleaming skyscrapers are being put up at a dizzying pace. It is here that many of the city’s new luxury hotels are located. And then there is the area where my hotel is located, which has the look of North America suburbia with many western-style restaurants and shops.

Unlike Dubai, the government of Qatar has never been too interested in opening up the country to mass tourism. As a result, Doha doesn’t have a mature tourist infrastructure, so the options for tourists are limited. The government is keen; however, in attracting high-end tourism and will be looking to fill the many luxury resorts that will be opening in the coming months and years.

After sorting out my hotel fiasco, I jumped in a taxi and made for Souq Waqf, the old marketplace. Down narrow alleyways I came across merchants selling spices, perfumes, carpets, fabrics, and everyday household items. It was refreshingly cool deep inside the souq. Qatar is a more conservative country than Dubai, so virtually every woman I passed was swathed in what seemed like suffocating black cloaks. Old men using wheelbarrows would stand outside the shops lugging purchases and waiting for more to be stacked on top.

After I had crisscrossed the market several times, I ambled down to the Cornice, which runs along Doha Bay. It’s an attractive strip of road, lined with palms. The setting sun added to the ambience. Part way down the Corniche, I decided to cross the busy street and found myself stuck in the middle of a large roundabout. Unlike in Zurich, Switzerland, cars here don’t stop for pedestrians, regarding them more as a nuisance. Every time I tried stepping into the street another car came whizzing past. There were times I thought my life was going to end on a sun baked street in Doha. I wondered if I would have to spend the night on the roundabout before being able to cross the street. Finally there was a break and I bolted across.

I was drawn to a large mosque, which was silhouetted by the setting sun. I climbed up a small grassy bank and was about to take a picture when a security guard told me I couldn’t. Apparently it’s part of the Emir’s office. The guard told me it was like the White House and no one was allowed to take any photos. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I have actually seen and photographed the White House. I even stuck my zoom lens through the fence at the U.S President's abode.

I carried on through the old part of town, which at this time of evening was overflowing with laborers socializing on street corners. I decided to try and walk back to my hotel. It’s hard to get a feel for a city sitting in the back of a taxi. I wasn’t exactly sure the streets I needed to take, but I started walking in the general direction. The sun had set, but the heat of the day still made the air thick. And my clothes were getting soaked from the sweat. I looked at my guidebook, which suggested I needed to find Salwa Road. Not sure where it was, I decided to ask at a petrol station. That’s where I met Nirijan, who is from Nepal and works at the station. I told him that big changes were happening in his country. He seemed happy that the King had been deposed, because the people were falling deeper into poverty, and he was more concerned with amassing more money. Nirijan’s family, including his wife and two children, still live in Nepal. He told me that there was no other alternative than working in Qatar. When I told Nirajan of my travels, he asked what stories I would write about Doha. I said maybe I would write about him. “Will it be in the Peninsula, he asked? The Peninsula is one Doha’s English newspapers. I told him I was writing for an international magazine. “We probably don’t get that magazine,” he offered. Probably not. He told me that it would take about an hour to walk to my hotel. When I sounded somewhat disappointed by his answer, he said maybe 30 minutes if I walked fast. We shook hands, and I wished him luck.

As I continued on, I took delight in my conversation with Nirijan. It was the kind of interaction I enjoy in foreign places. I labored on, still not sure, which road to turn down, but when I came to the Rydges Hotel, after having walked for about an hour, I knew I had gone too far. I dragged myself to the entrance and took a taxi back to my hotel.

This morning I took a city tour, which gave me some perspective on Doha. When I first arrived someone mentioned that Doha was bidding for the 2016 Summer Olympic Games. I almost laughed. But after spending a day or so here, I’ve come to think maybe it’s not such an absurd idea. The city lacks a lot of tourist infrastructure needed to host such a major sporting event, but they aren’t hosting the 2008 Games, and with the pace of development, the Doha of today will be much different than the Doha in 16 years. The city hosted the 2006 Asian Games and some modern sporting facilities have provided a legacy for the country. There also isn’t a shortage of money here, so if there’s a will anything can happen. If Doha is selected to host the 2016 Olympics, fewer people will be saying, “where in the world is Doha?”