Monday, June 6, 2011

Get Out of My Head, and Into My Car

No, not Dreams, as Billy Ocean would have it, even though that is one great old school video....

Scorned lover that I was, I needed to get out of my head, and stop the brooding.

Driving around looking, not thinking, was the tonic I needed.  Photo tour of Doha, here I come!  

It's easy to miss Doha unless you look.  The city is definitely designed to make mass protests hard, which would never happen here, as there is no reason for them, and I most certainly am not advocating them, and that's all I'll say about that.  Doha is criss-crossed with huge highways, that completely separate the smaller neighborhoods: no one is going to walk back and forth between them.

I don't know anything about the neighborhoods here, and you don't either, so I'm going to speak with authority and hope you don't notice.  But, first, I'm going to play that video again.  And turn it up.  

Much better.

As far as I can tell, there are three kinds of "neighborhoods" here.  There are the mansions, which are located wherever the owners damn well want to put them.  They seem to be scattered around, unlike in the US, where you don't really have a mansion unless your neighbors can look at yours and say "Mine's bigger" and you can look back and say "No, mine is".

The mansions are often right next to major roads, so maybe the owners DO want to be seen.  All right, all right, these are not the best mansion pictures, but it was early and I was just wandering around.  You want to do better?  Qatar Airways is awaiting your call.

The second kind of neighborhood is where the ex-pats live, and by ex-pats I mean well-paid foreigners like me.  We mainly live in apartment complexes which, like the mansions, are always behind fairly high walls.  You've seen my pictures of al Samrya, where I live, but if not then do yourself the favor and go back and read the post that contains the pictures. Damn, I couldn't even find that one, so good luck with that.  It does seem like the ratio of pictures-to-words has grown over time, so maybe I'm just getting lazy.  Anyway: I'll post some pictures of ex-pat life soon.

He's still a Pat, I know, but he won't always be.  Then, maybe he'll be an ex-Pat-pat.

Better, if P-Diddy played for the Patriots, and then retired to move here, he could be a P-diddy-Pat-pat.

The third kind of neighborhood houses everyone else, who I suppose are also ex-pats, except it's unlikely that they hang out at ex-pat hangouts, or if they do they are of the sort affordable to those making $350/month.

This is probably not such a place, but I liked the lone air conditioner.  And the lux palaces in the background.

Yeah, I should be writing more, and more eloquently, as you dear reader have come this far without a whole lot of payoff.  So I fear I leave you greatly disappointed, or perhaps I'm still just smarting from being jilted.  Anyway.  Enjoy the pictures. I'm going to go eat ice cream right out of the container.

Congrats! You've made it to the end.  Thanks, and good night.

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