Our Middle Eastern Mezze: Postcards

Sheikh Faisal bin Qassim al Thani, the late Qatari Emir (succeeded by his son, Sheikh Thamim bin al Thani) needed a place to display his 15.000 or so trinkets, so he constructed a massive fortress museum in the desert, about an hour outside of Doha. On Saturday our driver happily took us to visit.

The late Emir.

One can make use of a personal guide in the museum, which we took advantage of until a rather annoying woman joined us and kept asking stupid questions. We excused ourselves and wandered the rest of the museum on our own. This is the Sheikh's collection of rare calligraphy, a room I could have spent a great deal of time in.

Calligraphy on camel hide.

A (badly tarnished) silver pen given as a gift from our current First Lady.  Guess the protocol office didn't think about sending along silver polish, too. 

Many historic pearling tools and equipment were on display, along with maps depicting, "The great pearling coast."

Qatar's first female obstetrician. 1957. 

The Sheikh had a thing for American cars and trucks, with dozens on display.

And was into falconry and hunting.

Damascus was once seen as the "pearl" of Arabia, and the Sheikh clearly thought it would be nice to collect entire rooms of Syrian furniture in support of that notion. So he did. The handcrafted work on the pieces was stunning.

Back in Doha we also visited the Museum of Islamic Arts, designed by I.M. Pei (to resemble a woman wearing a burqa, if you look closely).

Everything about the museum was outstanding, from its construction to its collections to the views overlooking the gulf.

From the collection of mosque lamps.

 A bejeweled falcon.

 Exquisite filters for water jugs.

The view across the harbor.

To end the postcard collection from Our Middle Eastern Mezze...

Our Middle Eastern Mezze: The Food (Poisoning)

Our epicurean adventure into the Middle East ended as spectacularly as it began, but not at all in a good way. (No, the Golden Arch Steak House was not the culprit--we did not eat there.)

"Qatari Cuisine" does not really exist on its own; the cuisine draws from across the Middle East, with small variations here and there. We set our dining expectations accordingly for this trip.

At one place we snacked on Halloumi, the fried cheese, with Z'aatar bread and the ubiquitous olives, cucumbers, and tomatoes.

On another occasion we stopped for a Mezze snack of hummus, fattoush, cucumbers, tomatoes and pita. And exceptional mint lemonade. You're getting the idea of the cuisine variation by now, I hope?

Dinner was something on the grill, most typically Kebap, with hummus and pita on the side.

No alcohol, of course, but Coke products and Happy Pepsi were abundant.

Breakfast at our hotel was by far the dining highlight in Doha. Emirati Balaleet, Foul Moudammas, Cheese and Salad for me...

...and Tony's favorite, the Western breakfast of an omelette and hash brown. 

On the grounds of the art museum there was an international market offering a variety of clothing, household goods, and foods of the countries that comprise most of Doha's service industry staff: Indian, Nepalese, Thai, Vietnamese, Indonesian, and so forth, along with strange offerings of ex-pat foods.  

So when and how did I fall to food poisoning (we suspect)?  Whenever possible, I request one of the special meals when flying; the menu is usually more interesting than the "chicken or pasta" options. On our return flight I requested "Vegetarian," the primary reason being that airplane breakfasts are generally something sweet and unsubstantial, whereas the vegetarian option is almost always steamed vegetables and rice, a far more palatable way for me to start my day.

Indeed, my special breakfast meal from Doha to Amman was veggies and rice, and it tasted fine. During our short layover I began to feel, well, not so great. Once on board the plane, the next three hours and change were spent either curled up in a corner seat in the back row (thankfully the flight was not full), or in the lavatory that the Royal Jordanian crew had thoughtfully sequestered for me. The crew was extraordinarily kind and helpful throughout my ordeal; still, I hope I never again get to be one of those passengers who doesn't have to return my seat to the upright position for landing.

Once on the ground, I put on my best fake smile at Immigration and then collapsed in the back of the car for the drive home. And here I thought I wasn't going to have a culinary adventure!

Our Middle Eastern Mezze: Scenes from the Souk

The Souq Waqif dates back several hundred years, and was the place for trade for Bedouin tribes. In 2006 the Qatari government launched a massive restoration effort, and the results are spectacular. The former princely palaces surrounding the market were also renovated to become a collection of boutique hotels, one of which we stayed at during our time in Doha. 

The "modern" streets of the market are fresh and polished, and made for an architecturally delightful walk during the afternoon pause.

The oldest part of the market is the shopping scene. I took this snap just as the afternoon pause was ending and the vendors started opening doors and displaying everything a Qatari woman needs to prepare the home, from snacks to spices to silks to cashmere (oh yes, I purchased) to platters nearly large enough to serve a Jordanian dinner.

If I understood the merchant, this is the Qatari equivalent of chewing gum. 

Brightly colored textiles in the "Women's Market," many locally produced, but also a wide selection from India. 

Other parts of the market were devoted to gold and metalworking, and antiques and handcrafted goods, including bling for your camel saddle.

 The Souk Electrical System?

The Souk Art Center was modern and gorgeously lit.

The Bird Souk was animated, but definitely not for diehard PETA members. Efforts are being made to bring this market up to higher standards, and that is a good thing. 

This man was terribly captivated by the adjacent bird auction, standing with his phone for a long time, recording the event. 

Thankfully most birds were not as crowded as those chickens. Judging by the cacophony of screeching and chirping, the budgies and finches all seemed pretty happy.  Not to mention colorful.  Tony just gave me "the look" when I said I wanted to bring a rainbow of birds home, though I did get him to promise that if we ever move to Paris I can have all the birds I want from the Marche aux Fleurs.

 Whatever is this little creature?  We had no idea.

This being the dessert, there was of course, the Camel Souk.  We missed the morning sales routine, alas, and we broke protocol by not bringing pita to toss to these smiling dromedaries. Next time.

Supplies and the like are delivered via wheelbarrows throughout the market, though on only one occasion did we see the delivery men actually delivering anything.

All that remains in the market from the age of pearling, once a mainstay of trade now lost to oil.  We had a lengthy and sad conversation with an older Qatari gentleman who explained that all the pearls in his shop come from China. 

I just liked how this man sat so elegantly on a market bench, watching the world pass.

In another part of the souk a group of men (naturally) were holding an auction of various goods. We had no idea of the significance of the truck, but quite a few people took selfies with the Ford.

More birds!  Toward evening we toured the Falcon Souk; like a schoolgirl, I was giddy to see these amazing birds of prey up close, and would have loved to be in that little boy's place, learning to tie the helmet on my very own raptor.  

My obsession with birds was matched only by Tony's obsession with the street cleaners. These men would sprinkle sand upon a tile, run a pumice over the surface, and move along to the next tile. Other men were employed to sweep the tile dust, and still a third would wash the tiles. No matter the time of day we walked through the market, the tiles were always being polished and cleaned.

The terrace of our hotel, with its freshly buffed tiles.

We had but one evening to enjoy the Souk (the other was reserved for the concert). From our restaurant atop a terrace we could spy couples, families with children, and, yes, the traditional harems enjoying the warm spring evening. It all seemed a world away from the heuriger evenings at home.

Good night, Doha.