Alan & I parade around in front of the Giant Supermarket Trolley, symbolising the supermarket of the same name. Alan: "This is the best thing in Qatar." Sad but true.
Alan is spending the 11 day Eid holiday in India which he seems to find more enjoyable than Qatar. I got this text message from him: "I am surrounded by burgundy clad Tibetan monks and eating the best moma and thukpa. There's beer too." And you were wondering why I am always heading overseas???
Ramadan has just ended! Right this minute! One day earlier than we'd been told!!!!
I can now drink water in public when it's 50 degrees outside and I've walked half a kilometre from my car to my classroom! Or when, like today, I'm standing outside in an uncovered car park waiting an hour for someone to jump start my car 'cause I've flattened my battery again...
I can go to the (single liquor) shop and buy wine! I can even EAT LUNCH! Woo woo woo hoo hooo hooooo! (I have learnt to ululate.)
At least, I will be able to do these things when I've finished responding to the 50 Arabic SMS text messages I've just received on my phone. Yeeeees. Another you-beaut Simone idea comes to fruition...
This is what happened. I went to get a pedicure. Simone has started to feel old, flabby and disgusting, as the parts of Simone's body which refuse to cooperate with her general wishes and desires (to do such heady things as stand and walk) increase in number. "Bugger this," I thought, "It's time for action."
So I jogged 5 km last night (at 12.30 am when it was 'cool' enough), had my braces rewired, and then decided to go and get my feet seen to.
You might be thinking, "Simone is a PEDICURE person?"
Let me explain. Over here, pedicures are incredibly cheap, so all the foreign expat women (except me), and a lot of the men, get around in gorgeously maintained dark red, sparkly pink, or dull gold toe-nail polish. Okay, the men usually have clear polish.
Then the Muslim women all have impeccably groomed feet because, in addition to having pedicures, they have to wash their feet 5 times daily before praying. An addendum: When I had to supervise exams in the Emirates, I used to entertain myself by trying to find male students who had dirty toe-nails. (Invigilating exams is even lower on my list of Fun Things To Do than vacuuming.) In all that time, I found only ONE dirty toe nail in roughly TWO HUNDRED men.
So I rock up to the beauty salon, hours before Eid (the first of 2 religious holidays of the same name which mark the end of Ramadan) to find it chock-full of Arab women and girls all getting ready for the event when they emerge looking gorgeous in their "New Look," an Arab concept which means, at this time of the year, new, latest designer Abayat robes covered in the latest colour in sequins and metallic thread, new designer handbags and dark glasses, massive amounts of perfume, and a new car from their dad if they are very very lucky.
I had to wait 1 hour and 45 minutes for my feet, but what a wait. My god! The things Arab women have done to their bodies. Hair was being removed from their faces with STRING, kids were waving drying arms that had just been painted in henna flowers, butterflies, and sprays of water. Women were unfurling their long, thick, beautiful hair from their head scarves and having it coloured, shaped and permed.
And, when I finally make it to the pedicuring chair, 5 Philipina women were filing, cutting and hacking away at dead skin on hands and feet with great ferocity, while talking amongst themselves in Tagalog with an occasional question hurled at one of us (4 Qatari women and me).
"Madam. You single or married?"
Qatari: Single. You got someone for me?
"Madam. You have children?"
Me: Are you kidding? I can hardly bear having my feet pedicured. How would I cope with giving birth?
"Madam. Where you buy that cute-cute pink phone? How much it cost?"
Qatari: Bangkok. 200 riyal. It matches my underwear.
Me: Where did you buy your underwear?
And so on. What an education. I learnt that for Qatari women, marriage means freedom. I learnt that Arabs who have been brought up overseas are discriminated against here. I learnt that for the week preceding Eid, those poor Philipina women manicure and pedicure around the clock, and are allowed only 3 hours sleep a night. I learnt that the best place to buy underwear is Marks & Spencer. I learnt that Eid was starting one night earlier than expected AND, in preparation from this, I was sent a beautiful 'Happy Eid' SMS text message to send on to all my students.
The problem? The message was in Arabic, so, not surprisingly, the 45 students I sent it to responded in kind. To which, on the assumption that they are also sending me Eid greetings, my response has been "Thank you darling!"
All well and good. But what if their messages say: "I hate you and was hoping you'd fall prey to a maniacal driver on the road so we would have a decent teacher"?
Thank you darling!
And so, in English: Happy Eid to you and yours. Long may you eat, drink and smoke (should you so desire) in public!
Simone of the Beautiful, Pinky-Gold Nail Polished Feet
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