Kuala Lumpur to meet the Best-Man and how to Avoid Prison

So, I had yet to meet our best-man until a few fine days ago.

To back-pedal a bit, as I speak about my husband and my upcoming wedding at the same time...


Not auditioning for Locked Up Abroad: M.E.

I had decided to move to Qatar before our big June '11 wedding and did not want to stand the chance of being on an episode of "Locked up Abroad: Middle East" for living "immorally".

Visiting my fiance meant getting a nice hotel to apply for my single-woman-visa for me, they copy my passport and monitor my stay. The last time I went they thought I was a working-girl as I checked into my five-star digs (a visa requirement) and hardly spent any time there.

Heading out to the Middle East to visit, far less live with a single man is illegal, so to get the months-long permanent resident process started so that I could live with my fiance, we'd have to get married sooner..  so marry we did in a lovely and intimate civil ceremony that my dad graciously hosted for us, with only four days notice. Thanks dad.

The outpouring of joy and support for us was moving, Ryan was welcomed into my family with open arms and despite all the usual Trinidadian bacchanal, baby-on-the-way rumors at work, and family that were 'shocked' and 'aren't acknowledging the marriage for five years' (see you at the wedding folks), we had an absolutely wonderful day.

So, Off to KL to meet the Best-Man 

As I was saying,..
I had not met our best-man, Ry's childhood friend, and boarding-school partner-in-crime, Pete; so we hopped on a plane to Malaysia to meet my newest favorite person.

Pete is the COO of a leading PR Firm in Malaysia, and as as one would imagine of someone at the top of the PR food-chain, he is every bit the gregarious, confident, creative character, and then some.

We spent our two days in Kuala Lumpur at Pete's place. We went shopping, then out to a swank hotel for champagne, beer and lattes, met up with a few other friends, Ezra and Abbas Saad ("Malaysia's Beckham"), then to dinner at a great little dive that Ryan loves for their pork-something-or-other (it was delicious) before heading home for more drinks and old-talk and Sarah Brightman-singing 'till the wee hours of the morning. How Pete made it to work the next day was beyond me. Ryan and I woke up at noon.

We had lunch with Pete before his driver took us back to the hotel at the airport. It was home-time already.

See you in Trinidad in June for our (second) big day Pete !

Copenhagen for my Birthday

What Birthday is complete without going to a nice dinner with your better half? 


"Let's try that new restaurant in Denmark babe, I hear they have great steak." ... They also serve alcohol, not to mention pork -- we were on a plane before I could say "Pølsevogn" (sausage wagon).


We ate like kings for dinner the night we flew in, and went into town for lunch the next day. We walked along the beautiful, historic and very frozen, Nyhavn canal, where we saw remnants of their new years celebration a few days earlier (champagne bottles, streamers and a few chairs on the ice next to the centuries-old ships). 
Hans Christian Anderson lived here! 


It was bitterly cold, so we were happy to find a cozy little place for a bite. We were blown through the doors of the Hyttefadet pub (opened in 1734) and were greeted by the owner of the wood-paneled, cozy little restaurant full of candle-light and roses, and seated no more than twelve. The walls were full of whimsical and now patinaed paintings by Asger Jorn (1914). We shared a seafood platter, Ry had wine while I hugged my coffee mug to warm up. When we were leaving the owner gave us a special little gift (a fridge-magnet of his iconic restaurant), and told us that we must join his facebook page as we were the first Trinidadians to have a meal there. We left happy and warm with pink cheeks and full tummies. We walked downwind and hopped right back onto the subway back to our hotel. 



We picked up a few things for our Doha home in the uber-sleek, Danish-design home-ware-full mall and nipped back to the hotel next door to fight off the cold and nap for our flight home.


Beautiful Copenhagen, we will see more of you next time.

Sweet Maldives

Ryan took me to the Maldives a few days after Christmas; and no, it wasn't my Christmas present, I am spoiled; that and life is far too short not to enjoy it .. and by that I mean life is too short not to go to the Maldives as part of my (and your) life-long adventure. 

We flew into the Republic's capital city, Malé, and took a speed boat to the island of Kandooma, one of the 1,192 coral paradise islands of the Maldives. We sped past dolphins and beautiful water bungalows through the crystal waters of the Indian Ocean atolls. When we arrived we were greeted by our concierge who checked us in while we sipped a fruit cocktail in the lounge, he took us on a tour of the island and then to our bungalow where our bags awaited us. The beaches and water were breathtaking, and there was no end to pampering during our stay. Cocktails on the beach? Yes. Five star spread for dinner? You bet. Movies on the beach in comfy beanbags in the evenings? There's that too. 

A very Doha Christmas

Christmas came to us on Zamzam street as the Doha-family gathered around our table and shared a special lunch and afternoon at our Doha home.

Disney M.E.

The temperature here is Perfect (n.b. it is winter now, when summer rolls around and it's 50 degrees Celcius I'm sure I'll be dedicating an entire post to the temperature, or air conditioning..).

It feels a little like I'm in Disney; a Middle Eastern themed Disney park with Arabian characters (men in long white shirts, and white or red headdress with black cord, and women in long black abayas with veils covering their faces), falcons with their costumed falcon trainers, a genuine Souq (bedouin market) with costumed guards on white horses, perfect weather and no rain, huge elaborate facades and minarets and Islamic carvings on all of the buildings and mosques with a call-to-prayer sound-track, amazing shopping and expensive coffee... and Abracadabraaaa!!--- we're in Disney M.E.

How many times can you ride "it's a small world" in the Magic Kingdom? The grocery here is out of this world, they have anything I could dream of wanting in nine different varieties from twelve different countries (except ham and alcohol of course), and did I mention service? Yes, service in a grocery --with as many staff as there are customers. Want your pineapple peeled and fresh fish cleaned and de-boned? seasoned? want different icing on that cake? "Of course madam."

There is no Disney that comes without rules....

No pointing (fine).

No wasting drinking water (bigger fine).

No giving the finger (no fine-- you'll make a jail and then they'll deport you).

No wine with your fancy lunch or dinner.. unless you're in a hotel. Saying that, there is a nice array of fresh fruit faux-cocktails on the menu, the lemon-mint is delicious and refreshing and is a popular drink here.

If I want to cross the street I have to take a taxi (or answer to my husband); the driving here is That crazy.

Every now and then you'll see a Qatari man with a falcon on his arm; they are associated with nobility and wealth. There are falcon hospitals here, elite falcon associations, and an airline that allows up to 6 of these birds onboard ....as long as they have their own seats ... oh, and the aircraft also can't be dispatched unless there is a prayer mat (magic carpet) in the cockpit (it's in the MEL!).

The Souk guards are something to see in the old bedouin market -- immaculate white uniforms, white horses decorated with large red cord and tassels, huge guns slung over their shoulders, and a little man with an old wheelbarrow running behind them picking up after the horses with a shovel. It's a sight that could easily be straight out of a Sunday morning cartoon (or the Disney M.E parade).

The women wear beautiful abayas made of the finest silks and luxurious cotton, often jeweled at the sleeves, skirts and edges of their veils. The abayas are all made and often customized by the Western designers we know and love-- Gucci, Dior, Fendi, DKNY, Louis Vuitton and Versace, just to name a few. The women also all carry fabulous designer handbags and wear the latest Jackie-O-style shades.

The men wear white ankle-length robes that look like long shirts (really they're just long white dresses), called thobes. The head-dress is a large square-shaped cloth typically made of cotton called a ghutra. In Qatar (unlike Saudi) the men starch their headdresses so they are very stiff and stay folded back over the iqal (the black cord that holds the ghutra in place).

Family often ask me about my clothes as they are accustomed to seeing me wear sleeveless tops and skinny jeans in Trinidad. Unlike Saudi, Qatar is more liberal with the dress-code of their expat residents. I see many foreign wives in regular western clothes-- flip-flops, tank tops and shorts out and about at malls, doing groceries etc. Many guide books will advise foreigners to dress modestly out of respect, and to avoid stares I am far more conservative than most when it comes to dressing here. I wear my normal tops and jeans from home, yes, but always under a big shawl that covers my chest and arms. Just being female will get you attention (with the male to female ratio at 2:1), so dressing modestly is far more comfortable than a pair or shorts and a lot of unwanted attention, but hey, that's just me. So in the end I dress with my big shawl, bigger handbag and even bigger shades, am approached by other arab women thinking that I am one of them, I am ushered through immigration lines and security ... not a bad trade-off for the shorts.

The men will run over a woman if she does not get out of his way (chivalry was lost in the middle ages during the crusades here, don't believe me? look it up). I am usually careful but last week I was almost knocked over at one of the clinics because I didn't see him coming... from behind me. The cultural exchanges (always few and far between) certainly add to the charm of the place.. almost makes Disney M.E. feel more authentic.

My husband married a princess and I live in a sandcastle with a spa next-door.

Come visit us in the land where dreams are made. Aren't you excited?

Doha Living

The compound we are in is lovely. It's huge, with over 1,100 townhouses and apartments, though it does not feel like the cramped, over-crowded town-living of Trinidad, where neighbors can see inside each others houses or hear through the walls. The townhouses and apartment blocks look like perfect little sandcastles with moulding, and islamic filigree framing the windows and doors.

Our street is quiet and very private. There are many large playgrounds for kids, a nursery, dry-cleaning, a grocery that delivers, our very own mosque, a restaurant, cafe, huge heated pools and lounge areas, beautiful spa and two massive recreation buildings that include squash courts, tennis courts, billiards rooms, sauna, and a five star gym with state-of-the-art equipment and personal trainers. There is no getting bored while Ry is away on a flight; I have wonderful friends on the compound, and a spa and gym when I am not keeping myself busy painting.

And did I mention that the Villagio is right around the corner?

I can live with that. You ?

Permanent Resident Hoop-Jumping

I spent most of my first few days organizing my permanent residence here in Qatar,.. that and getting over my jet-lag, which involved sleeping until noon and feeling drunk with tiredness when awake.

There is a medical one must pass for the permanent resident status that includes a chest x-ray and blood work (fail this medical and they deport you). My good friend Danila took me to the clinic (the morning after I got in, ie. the morning after our girls-night drink-up). We drove through the entrance to the medical center in Dani's tank and were directed toward the female parking. There is a different entrance for women on the side of the building.

This was an interesting cultural exchange, and the first of many.

The medical unit is known to some as the "concentration camp", mostly because you stand in a line half dressed waiting for a medical something to happen and you're not sure what it is because of the language barrier.. laughable now, but it was the longest hour of my life; just me, my beautiful Italian friend holding my handbag and fifty Philipinas (all nannies to the Qatari and expat kids, and pets -- yes, lucky pets get a nanny too).

Everyone is given a handful of pamphlets there, these include:

"The Oneness of Allah"

"Messengers in Islam" (includes Moses, Noah, and Jesus)

"Islam and Civilization"

"Rights of Mankind in Islam"

"Religious Tolerance in Islam"

and

"Health and Nutrition in Islam"

I was curious so I kept them, .. that'll be another blog entry.

The following day I was off to get my fingerprints done at the 'Criminal Evidence and Information' government building. It looks like a huge white palace and is next to an even bigger, scary-looking jail. The kind of jail that no one ever wants to go to, or be close to for that matter. Anyhow, by my second day I was happy that there was a 'women only' section in each government building with its own entrance. No hassle, no lines, no one staring, and the women are lovely. It made the bureaucratic red-tape hoop-jumping permanent resident status-getting process quite bearable. And the fingerprinting took no time at all, so off I went to the Villagio (a super-sized posh mall version of the Las Vegas Bellagio) to reward my efforts. =)

Leaving home - Coming home

I left Trinidad on the 17th of December. My dad dropped me to the airport, and by 'dropped me to the airport' I mean he flew me to JFK to pick up my connecting flight to Doha on our national carrier, and the airline I left behind for my adventure.

Happy and excited, I waited patiently in the terminal for ten long hours before my first-class flight to my new life in Doha, Qatar.

All I remember of my thirteen hour flight was the five-star four-course meal and wine list, the first few minutes of a new movie and a cabin attendant asking me if he can make my bed after dinner, if I wanted any warm cookies or fine chocolates, and not to forget the blanket folded by my feet next to my pyjamas. I woke up nine hours later.

Ryan, my husband, was in Hong Kong. Feeling badly about not being there to meet me at the end of my thirty hour trip he arranged a meet-and-greet through Al Maha, a royal-treatment service that fast-tracks you through passport control and baggage claim. As I sat in the VIP lounge waiting for my personal agent who met me at the aircraft to organize my passport and bags, I watched the 300 people from my flight scurry into the already hundreds-long immigration line of other passengers that had no doubt also travelled all day and were just as tired as I was.

My agent walked me and my porter out of the terminal. I was thrilled to see two familiar faces smiling and waving. Dani and Sabine -- what a welcome party. And who needed sleep..? I had left home from one lovely au revoir tea party with close friends and arrived to a drinks-night with my Doha girls.

Sleep is for the dead they say..

I felt like death for the next ten days.