Of Toots and Mirrors....

Yes, I am driving in Doha.  Within 60 minutes of having my temporary licence, I became that driver that locals have learnt to fear; white, female, and obviously "new" as driving a rental car.  I have not learned all of the nuances of Doha driving - it is all about toots and mirrors.  And I have not learned the finer inate behaviours of the right-hand drive.

Toots and mirrors go together.  One does not need to respond necessarily to what is observed in the rearview mirror (if one even looks).  If a car three times your size and twice your speed (noting that my speed is that of a newbie) appears suddenly, bearing down in your rear; a reaction is not necessary.  However, if that same vehicle begins emitting short and rapid toots, it is clearly advisable to move into the next lane without hesitation and hold on to your steering wheel firmly as the wind gust from the previously speed oppressed vehicle returns to its regular speed.  And I continue on my merry "newbie" way.

Right-hand driving!  Easy? Surely, it is only on the other side - think about it!  Simple, yes; when you get into the car and drive, the car goes, mostly you stay in the correct lane, can operate the key pedals excepting, naturally, for making a left-hand turn when it is natural to enter the new road on the inside much to the alarm of the car confronting you.  For me, a key problem is the mirrors.  I can not get my brain to realise that the rear-view mirror is on my right and my view into the fast lane is via my left hand side mirror. Right-hand driving - Not easy!

So that is my mirrors and toots but really they are only half of my story.  The other half - noting, that this now destroys my essay structure - is what I like about driving in Doha.

I like the round-abouts.  None of this mini roundabout stuff we get in the small centres of New Zealand; these  mean business.  You enter (me, watching from my left) aim the car, indicate and go.  For the life of me, I don't know why Ross or I haven't been hit yet as extreme lane changes within the round about are par of course.  But really, I do love them as the big round abouts are light controlled and waiting time is limited.

I like the rapid take-off at the intersections.  In Malaysia, one had to wait until the lights had nearly finished their phasing until you got through as reaction times were exceptionally slow.  Once the first car had moved, the second car would think about getting ready to move and so on.  Here it is "toot toot" and everybody moves in succession.

I like the infrastructure. The roads are incredible, wide, pop up like mushrooms and diverse.  If you had the right vehicle, you could be driving on sealed road, or over the curb onto the dust within minutes.  Now the roads are all relatively well signposted (the main ones) and the scenery is spectacular due to the building construction underway.

That is my driving.  Needless to say, we are off out this Saturday to begin the process of trying to buy a brand new 4x4.  This will place my small backseat driver into correct childseat bolting and harnessing.  It will remove my newness and lift me up to the height of the other drivers.  Roll-on new car!

Of the Briefest of Life Chapters ...

For the briefest of life chapters, I have become the most important person in Teagan's life.  As a couple of independent souls, housebound together with our own strong opinions; we are getting on surprisingly well... note: please remind me of this in 10 years time!


Until late April 2010, Teagan attended daycare and kindergarten.  She had friends and teachers and these people always knew more than me and were generally more appealing than me (although, I had my place and we both knew that either Dad or I were the best when life was tough).  But now, we have each other, on our own for 9 hours a day.  I have learnt so much; apparently, it is not sad to eat lamb shanks as they are from boy lambs and we don't need many of them as only the girl lambs grow up and make wool and more babies so we can eat the boy lambs!!  Also, if I stay in bed too long and sleep I will die like Gabby so it is really important that I get up quickly.  In spite of her bossiness (standard in little girls I am told), Teagan's behaviour is "aimicable";  please is present most of the time and I am often brought a glass of water or a slice of toast with a smear of spread on it and due to her strong affinity with God, she has introduced me to the pleasure of Grace prior to eating any meal.


Now to the constructive education component.  How does one educate a 4.5 year old?  My solution taking the Teagan approach is artwork, provide her with paints and something to make and we are all winners.  A key recent hit has been painting a cube and sticking favourite words on it then throwing the cube (like a dice) and saying the word that is on the side. We also love Sesame Street's podcasts "The word on the street", yesterday we studied "exquisite" and today it has been "pollination" (including a 39 deg C walk around the local gardens to get flowers). While is all seems slow going, we are generally both having fun.


Yesterday, however, started from quite a different angle.  Teagan has to work each morning straightening shoes and earns 1 Riyal (NZD0.40) for this task.  She has been saving up to buy "something". This morning it was time (after 4 days of waiting) and she biked to the compound shop and bought a polished stone egg (what!! I think).  Nevermind, each to her own.  At this particular point in time she is now gathering all of her "special things" into boxes and hiding them around the house for "Dad to find when he gets home", these boxes a piled into a washing basket for ease of transportation.  Yes, please, I say and clean it all up in the process of finding it as this villa is become devoid of all treasures.


On to the real stuff, formal education.  Yesterday we visited our two preferred schools here in Doha, both of which are likely to have a place for Teagan.  One has a cost of NZD 30 K per annum (Compass International) and the other one NZD 18 K per annum (Sherborne Academy).  Schools here are not all created equal and are also vastly different.  Each school has compulsory Arabic or Islamic lessons (depending on your religion) and children are allowed to enter certain schools depending on their citizenship.  Of the two we had selected to explore further, both will provide Arabic lessons and studies for Teagan, follow in the British Primary Curriculum for Maths and English and in one case the International Primary Curriculum for other subjects.  Both schools would suit us academically however, I did prefer Sherborne Academy due to the specific music and art departments and facilities and more formal approach (suited to my "independent and opinionated child".  If you are interested in taking a look at these International Schools, here are the links:  Compass International www.cisdoha.org and Sherborne www.sherborneqatar.org .  Following our visit, Teagan who has been of the opinion that she will NEVER go to school, told me: "Mum, inside of my head, I have been thinking; and you know that now my head says that I want to go to school", clearly, the school visits have been a positive.


Now the real test is, will Teagan be formally accepted.  Teagan will go through an academic assessment which, I assume, will be rather interesting.  There will be six children with one parent each doing a variety of tasks in a classroom.  At worst, I will have a heck of a good time watching the whole process and at best, all of the children and parents will enjoy themselves with the net outcome being acceptance for the next school year starting September 15, 2010 into their first year of "Pre-preparatory" (aka, new entrance or reception).


All said, I will become baby-less.  Once Teagan was 5 lb 7 oz or 2.5 kg and expressed her opinion in only one style with Ross, Gabby and I together constituting her world.  Once she begins school, she will have her own international accent, speak more languages that Ross and me, her own network of friends and Ross and I will become "knowledge-less".  Oh, the true blessings of having a child.

Of an Arab and a Camel...

This evening one exceptionally lucky little girl was swept off her feet by an Arab and gently deposited on a camel.  Her evening was rounded off by an Iraqi dinner and a walk through the local Souq (market).  Thankfully, she knew she was an extremely lucky child.

Kids are literally....

Yesterday was what I term a "madam day".  Teagan turns on a switch that determines that she will constantly challenge me within an inch of the "naughty spot" and two inches of the dreaded "black tick" (the dreaded black tick is the worst as this means no swimming for the day).  Well, our Wednesday started well but rapidly turned into a slow crawl.  No preschool learning of note was achieved, no "chores" were honestly done and the television was the favoured WANT.  Finally, swimming time rolled around and my darling returned to me for the 40 minute playtime; yes, the day (albeit the end) was looking up.  No fear, I was mislead, when I asked madam to get into the bath.... literally, that is what she did!!


Included here are a few photos of the madam, biking to the pool, in the pool and doing a madam in the bath...enjoy.

The Gate to Doha - a medical test

The medical exam (required for a resident's permit) I went to on Monday and its harsh and regimented approach was a fascinating view of life from a Sheep's perspective. 


Cornell University (Ross's employer) escorted me to the "Medical Commission at 8:15 am on a very hot (there is nothing other than very hot!) Monday morning and the place was swarming with potential Qatar residents (we the sheep).  There were two entry points; one for men and one for women (rams and sheep are kept separate).  We struggled to enter the women's door as it was surrounded by men trying to get in (tell me what!!??).  The good thing was, other than the guard, there wasn't a single male inside terrorising the freed women. [My escort informed me that the male interest was due to the the men assisting their newly "imported" housemaids through the complicated Qatar entry requirements].


I dutifully took my number and waited for my turn for whatever to happen - 130 people later!  This took about 90 minutes but it was interesting.  This was everyone all together irrespective of income or status or religion: somehow I ended up minding an 11 Year old egyptian girl with intellectual disabilities.  Clearly she was as confused as I was albeit for different reasons.  To Miss 11, her mother had left the building, when would she return? To me, why in the heck didn't they tell Mother that cash was not acceptable and to purchase a pre-pay card?  Never mind, we enjoyed pointing to alternate pages in a book about Doha and smiling at each other.  Nonetheless, Mother and Miss seemed to get the first stage sorted after 30 minutes and joined me for "Station 1".


Station 1 was to be the chest X-ray.  Accordingly, "Station 1" was labeled as "Station 3" (clearly one entered Station 1 at Station 3).  I took my seat and again waited for my number - apparently not so.  In groups of 8 women we were shown into a small corridor and instructed to use the two change rooms to change into gowns (ha ha foresight and advice served me well here as I had worn a t-shirt so no changing was required).  Then.....we were all shown into the actual X-ray room.... it was frying time.  Clearly, this was not a good move so I, with Miss 11's Mother and Mother Europe and her 2 yr old daughter, quickly got ourselves over to where the radiologists were stations whilst some Indian woman was being fried on the machine.  With no common language available, Mother and Mother Europe became priority to the first frying and Miss 2 yr old Europe was clawed (not unpleasantly) from her Mother and put into my arms - we watched the process together through a glass window.  Finally, I was fried and pointed to "Station 2" which was in fact labelled as "Station 1".


Now "Station 2" would put all of NZ medical testing laboratories to shame.  Fifteen women were processed via the drawing, labelling and confirming identity of, one vial of blood within about a 12 minute time period.  Ok, yes, there were a few drops of blood on the ground but all was clean, quick and barely a prick.


Overall, quite an interesting experience.  It is times like these that one can begin to understand life from a sheep's perpective: you don't really know what is going on, you know that you will be looked after, and the outcome will be fairly painless (although only fatal for sheep).

Dunedin to Doha

Our Dunedin interlude was over and after a significant luggage triage process, Teagan and I headed over to Doha via a short-break in Auckland at the Heritage.  


Our trip was generally very good, although we had numerous small problems at the Heritage: child becoming locked in the room on her own as they didn't have the safety catches sorted out, stuck in the lift, nearly double charged for our private car meet and greet service and importantly, the "relocation" of "daddy's stinky t-shirt" to the main laundry by the keen housemaids (bah humbug as this induced tears of desparate missing daddy sadness).


Buggies and airports rapidly became another problem (although she is 4 and technically has good legs, a buggy is an absolute for grottiness).  Tell me, how does one managed on their own with 4 items of hand-luggage (two for child and two for Mum), and over-tired 4 year old and a 4 hour wait in Melbourne airport when your buggy has been checked through to Dubai (not even my end destination!!).  Solution - an outdated, made for a super wide prosterior, wheel chair!!



The flight to Doha was about as smooth as I could ask for.  The food was excellent, movie selection great and robotic child, a dream (literally).  The cabin crew made up her bed (including top and bottom sheet), and then I told her to go to sleep.... miracle, she slept; mind-you, only to wake up some 5 hours later to continue her epic movie watch (the flight was 15 hours so only a short part was slept).  Needless to say, finally she found her father at Doha airport with all luggage intact including the buggy - saved from a brief encounter with Dubai.

The Catlins

If you have ever watched TVNZ's documentary series "South" hosted by Marcus Lush, you will clearly understand why Teagan and I took off down to the Catlins on the cold side of Autumn.  We only had time to spend two days on the coast and saw only a minute fraction of what was on offer.

We based ourselves at the Pounawea Motorcamp.  Our cabin (and literally just a cabin) had a huge picture window facing out on to the estuary with Tui's by the many dozen swooping about.  A superb spot to stay at!

Teagan extended her limited walking capacity (was born with lazy-strop-itis syndrome) to walk along the Kaka point beach and take the exceptionally sedate walk/climb up to the Nugget Point lighthouse http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nugget_Point where we managed to spot spoonbills and fur seals.  The next day we went out on our mission to find a Hooker Sea Lion and were not disappointed.  Enroute (via an absolutely non-logical but purposeful deviation) we walked through Tunnel Hill - it was incredible to think that there was ever a purposeful train line serving the area.

We finished off our trip with a visit to Invercargill to see Henry our favourite Tuatara!! Teagan was not disappointed as Henry was at the front of his enclosure.

The Catlins are a MUST SEE break for any family, especially Kiwi Kids.  We will be back there staying in the motor camp as Teagan gets older and gains more value from exploring the region.

The Otago Peninsular: Alan's Beach

Dunedin managed to turn on stunning weather for many of the days we were there.  The peninsular is a magnet on a sunny day and one sunny afternoon called for a meander out there with my niece Jasmine and of course, Teagan.  http://www.otago-peninsula.co.nz/map__otago_peninsula_dunedin_n.html

We drove up Highcliff, around Hooper's Inlet to Alan's beach.  The beach wasn't far from being deserted, the only apparent others there were camper van tourists!  We enjoyed a picnic afternoon tea and a romp up and down someone's rather large sandcastle.

The photos speak for themselves.

Leaving Auckland (NZ).

Obviously, one loves to drive from Auckland to Dunedin with a 4 year old girl with a strong and persistent inclination for car sickness.  When that is what you love (or must do), you go for it.

Packed within an inch of its 1600 cc capacity, the Suzuki SX4 left Auckland.  Teagan was strapped into the centre back - her throne - with a direct view south.  Our trip was generally trouble free; although, I must admit that I have provided a donation to the Traffic Police Department (not undeserved) as I coasted comfortably (but not safely) through Hunterville. 




Of note was our overnight in Wellington. Teagan had a great time but hotel was rather dodgey (as I had expected for the low price) but not too unclean and breakfast would not have fattened the starving.  I was sure that the early 1990s had returned!


We made it to Dunedin two days later, free and cured of the carsickness that had dogged us for the past year.