February was spent in Doha. We didn't go abroad once (the first month since September that that's been true), and didn't even leave the city which is something of an achievement in a place that doesn't have the most enormous variety of diversions. I think this is probably a reflection of how settled we feel - almost a year and a half, in our laziness testifies to our homeliness.
We have been forcing ourselves to go to new places though, having not discovered anywhere new for ages. After the initial few months, where every weekend was spent driving off to somewhere someone mentioned, we have become very habitual in our destinations but in February we discovered a new park (enormous, a lot of grass and log cabins with nothing in them), a Thai restaurant (incredibly cheap, a bit tacky, lovely courtyard with a fake folly fountain), and a new hotel bar (Hip India with not much Indian music: 'mingle with the chic and swanky with the latest contemporary rhythms, colourful cocktails and a trendy crowd'. Yuck. We bumped in to loads of friends which means they must be chic, swanky and trendy. I'm not sure this is a good thing).
Yesterday we went to the beach, our first Qatari excursion since December. We headed out of Doha along the Shamel (North) Road which they're rebuilding so there were roadworks, a windy sandstorm so there were clouds of dust, and it's the main route to where the gas plants are there are always plenty of lorries.
An urgent need for petrol meant a stop, surrounded by slightly scary men with their faces wrapped in arab scarves because of the sandstorm, and an opportunity to admire the 'saloon' (perhaps THE most common spelling mistake in the Arab world).
Despite my boasts about the weather it was way too chilly for a swim and a brisk wind meant there was some chafing of skin, but sheltered behind a convenient rock we ate our picnic (managing to get sunburnt in the process) and admired the flare at Ras Laffan (huge gas flare, allegedly been going for over three months, that's millions of dollars of gas literally burning - you really see it in the photo because i forgot to take my zoom lens).
When we first went to this beach (here) there were loads of tents (and cars, and rotting sofas). Then we went last year and all the tents had been taken away. Now the tents are back with a vengeance. They appear to need a permit so each sand-coloured structure has a neat little number on the side and, once again, the owners have settled in for the season - satellite dishes, permanent barbecues, portaloos, water tanks, generators and flags. They don't exactly rough it on their beach trips. It all puts our mini-cool box and two towels to shame. Mr A went to a similar set-up last year; a Qatari friend drove him in to the desert where he and some friends had erected a big tent (complete with full-time staff, generator to power the flat-screen TV and generous refreshments) in order for the lads to hang out and watch the football.
We headed along the beach straight in to the gale to accumulate more shells for my collection (one of which I found in my bed courtesy of the cats), inhale some fresh air, spy some fishermen and give Mr A an opportunity to skim stones into the sea.
Finally it was time to head back in to the city, stopping on the way to admire the impressive view of West Bay - apparently approval has been granted for three times as many towers as there are now. Cripes.
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