grass is greener (pet[ty] peeves)

"I think I'll move to Australia..." -from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst

The Grass is Greener post (green here in Doha only because of workers toiling long hours in the hot sun to keep it tended, soil imported from elsewhere, and extensive irrigation; greener everywhere else because it can grow there without all the extras, also because sometimes it’s not even grass here, just dusty astroturf): because there are days when it seems like it would be so much simpler to drive, make friends, go grocery shopping, locate and retrieve lost luggage, cook dinner anywhere but here.  The veneer of wealth here can lead newcomers, as well as those of us who left for the summer and inconveniently forgot, to expect efficiency and clarity. Yes, of course I know better than to let it get to me, and that the sheer ridiculous complications in getting anything done in Doha can be entertaining all on their own, though often some time after the event. Our lost luggage experience and great gas bottle search, which both occurred in our first couple of weeks back, illustrate these well.

where we were all summer: this green grass is for real

where we are now: none of the grass in this picture is real, except the median strip at the very far right

The lost luggage situation, while ultimately successful, was a typical process. Four of us flew back into Doha after summer vacation, but unfortunately not all our bags did. The next morning I called repeatedly to inquire, but the numbers I had been given were either busy or went unanswered. Alternate numbers obtained by calling the QA general number were occasionally answered but only to tell me that they could not help me and to call one of the original numbers that no one ever answered, or to give alternate numbers at which no one could help me. I was told that one number was an internal number that I should not be calling, though everyone else gave it to me as the first number to try. The code that was supposed to work in the online inquiry did not match the format requested on the lost baggage site. Ah yes, back in Doha. Eventually I was able to confirm (by someone who initially told me I had the wrong number) that my bags had arrived but no info about when or whether they would be delivered. QA finally called two mornings later to confirm the address, and both bags were at our door within two hours of the call, though on the phone they had said they could only locate one of them.

The gas bottle for the stove burners ran out the day after the bags arrived.  I put off dealing with it for a few days, cooking for five on a single electric coil. Ever since a restaurant gas tank exploded back in February rumors have been flying around about how LPG cylinders (not the type that exploded, but still) are not available anywhere, at any price.  Riding along on that paranoia, helped by the usual unhelpfulness of the internet to get any current information about a current problem in Doha (getting specific information, by any means, about a situation or task, before it actually happens, in Doha, is very nearly impossible), I finally blocked out an entire morning to look for a gas bottle. After dropping the big kids at school, the youngest and I set out to drive until we found one.  Twenty minutes later we pulled into a Woqod station and there were stacks of gas bottles just waiting for us, and plenty of friendly men ready to take our money and exchange our old one for a new one.  In the end, having no helpful internet-sourced info or reliable phone number to call required me to go solve the problem myself while interacting with real live human beings, which is a good thing.  I'll just have to forget about grass entirely for the duration of my stay, practice putting up with the persistent lack of specific info about anything while sorting through the heaps of rumors, and accept the occasional necessity of braving the Doha morning traffic.

...or Doha.