Magnetic Resonance Imaging

My first MRI was some years ago at Winter Park Memorial Hospital. It was a fairly new tecnology at the time and what I remember most was the sound, a repititious BAAHNNG BAAHNNG BAAHNNG. There were other sounds as well but not as memorable. As a result of my recent biopsy pathology report I had a MRI scan today at the Al Ahli Hospital in Doha. The equipment is a very shiny, new looking Siemens MAGONET scanner. As a general rule I love German technology but the baby is LOUD and noisy. Of course the staff knows this and I was provided with a pair of headphones and music to make the experience tolerable. Now my only question is, "what is worse, a loud, noisy scanner or listening to ABBA on headphones for 50 minutes?"

Dusty   14 September 2013

Dust Bunnies are your friends...........

Dust bunnies are your friends………. 

Has been one of the guiding principles of my life, along with floss daily, don’t pick flowers in your neighbor’s yard and never, ever, refer to your Mother, wife or girlfriend as “the old lady”. I have always believed that a house that was spotlessly clean becomes an overly attractive host to germs. A house that is semi-clean and tidy is less appealing to germlife and therefore much healthier for human habitation. When faced with the choice to go play golf or clean house, there is really no choice at all, hitting the links wins every time.

This life philosophy, “The World According to Steve Schoene” has been seriously challenged living in Doha. I live on the fifth floor, in a one bdrm flat with bathroom, powder room, kitchen and living/dining room combined. There is no exterior balcony suitable for growing drought resistant plants. It has polished marble floors throughout with double glazed, reflective glass windows that are never opened.

My normal pattern is to run around the rooms with dust mop every two days, three days max. But this picture shows what happens from a busy week with unplanned doctor visits and decisions to go to the gym rather than dust mop the floors. 7 days, just 7 days, where does it all come from? No one can say, but all who live here experience the same thing. Inescapable dust. Everywhere.      I remain……..

Dusty in Doha

 

 

 

Fresh Air?

Hot, dusty and now humid. Not sure why it took so long but yesterday it hit me like a ton of bricks. Fresh air or the lack thereof is one of the features of living in Doha.  Friday was the first day in my life when not confined by a medical condition, that I did not go outside to breathe deeply of fresh air. But lest you should think I'm totally bummed, remember the picture posted by my friends at Full Circle Yoga in Winter Park, Florida and think of me, dryly asking all I meet, "have you been outside today for a bit of fresh air"?   Dusty

 

Camel Helper

Before leaving Doha for the states to reunion with the family and my new grandson, I visited the MIA with a friend to take in the new exhibit.  STEEL AND GOLD is a collection of swords dating from the 9^th century to the present.  It is a fantastic voyage tracing the technological developments dictated by foot soldiers giving way to mounted cavalry to the ceremonial swords of today that are indicative of military rank and political power. Cold, hardened killing steel has become engraved, gold-filled and jewel encrusted. I have mentioned the Museum of Islamic Art in previous notes to friends. It is one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. It was designed by I.M. Pei with the interior gallery spaces developed by JM Wilmotte. The galleries occupy three sides on four floors of a large cube with the forth side a 5-story glass wall looking across the bay to the skyscrapers dotting the shoreline of the City Center. Standing in the open central atrium you look up through the chandelier's delicate geometric arabesque pattern to the dome above. (Recommend Wikapedia for more info) On the fifth floor you will find IDAM the 4-star restaurant where Chef Alain Ducasse enhances traditional Arabic food with elements of French cuisine. The restaurant is closed during the summer months but the museum café on the ground floor is open year round and provides a sampling of what IDAM has to offer.  We decided to have a light bite at the café and seated ourselves next to the soothing sounds of the black onyx water fountain. The wait staffer appeared almost immediately asking if we were dining or just having a refreshing drink. She left us with menus and took our drink order to the kitchen. She soon returned with our water and mint tea. She asked if we had any questions about the menu.
I nodded yes and pointed at the item; Pastini avec Capsicum et Camel. Every once in a while those 3 years of French with Madame Louselle at Oak Ridge High School are put to good use. I had everything covered except the camel. I asked, “is it really camel”? To which this really cute, tiny South Asian girl replied, “oh yes sir, but not an old camel, a young camel”.

Wow, that was a relief, nothing worse than tough old boiled  camel. Me being the guy who always recommends gator tail to our out town visitors when dining at JB’s Fishcamp in NSB, how could I not try this local delicacy. When it arrived it was beautifully centered in a white plate but looked as though it had been prepared in advance in a shallow bowl and finished off (microwaved) my dining pleasure. It was hot. It was tasty but lacked any complexity of flavors. Then I thought, this is what I always imagined hamburger helper would taste like. Which, BTW, is available at local grocery stores.

Dusty

 






 

Not all dust is the same.......

 Walking down the street about a block from my apartment one finds a store front window that hasn’t been washed in ages. But when you pause and look into the darkened showroom space you see there are four Bentley automobiles. Four brand new Bentley automobiles. I recognize them but have never longed for one. My wild guess is around 120K per vehicle making it close to a half a million, their once shiny skin dulled under a thick coating of Qatari dust. Have I mentioned it’s dusty in Doha?
 

Dusty    25 June 2013

the opposite of even?

With as many as twelve thousand workers on-site, the Sidra Medical Research Center is a multicultural stew. English is the official language of the jobsite but for roughly 90% of the workforce their English language skills would not qualify as a second language.

We all know effective communication is essential to the success of any project. So one of the really fun but challenging aspects of working in Doha is understanding the English spoken with the many different accents.  Arabic, Farsi, Hindi plus two other Indian dialects, two Pakistani dialects, Nepalese, Tagalong, Indonesian, Italian, French, German, Irish, Canadian, Brits, Australian and the Scotch is a good start to the list.

We work directly with a delightful group of youngsters in their late twenties to early thirties.  They are three Lebanese, two Egyptians plus an Indian and a Philipino. And what we have found is that all these young folks have the basic, “see Dick and Jane play” language skills but it's the nuances, the double meanings of some words that leave them mystified.

Anyway during one of our seemingly endless meetings a really strange bit of conflicting information was noted by my co-worker, Leah Bauer who said, “oh, that’s odd”. As I looked around the table all I saw was blank, confused faces. Finally Ibrahim said, “what you mean odd?” You mean opposite of even?

Dusty

Every Day Should Be Memorial Day

Memorial Day 2013-

Those who know me well know I am an avowed peacenik. But I am the son of a decorated WW II veteran.  My father piloted a C-47 “Goonie Bird” and was shot down on December 24, 1944 airlifting supplies to the embattled American forces during the Battle of Bastogne. So my compassion for and commitment to the young men and women who have served our country in the Armed Forces are as strong as any American you can find. 

My first Memorial Day living outside the USA finds me in Doha, Qatar where there are no weekend sales of any sort. No trade-in offers for whatever you can push, pull or drag to the local Ford/Chevy dealer. No automobile races, no baseball games, no fried chicken, potato salad or cobbler. No beer.  But my FB page was filled with many posts remembering loved ones who had  proudly served in the United States Armed Forces.

It’s a bit ironic that in the 1^st decade of the 21^st century this peacenik worked primarily on healthcare projects for the Department of Defense. Air Force, Navy, Army and Marine bases, all over the US and Europe. Two of my strongest memories are of the Beaufort Navy Hospital and Parris Island, both in beautiful South Carolina, maybe the most heavily defended state in the contiguous 48 states.

For pure goose bumps it’s hard to match riding the causeway leading to Parris Island, an elevated two lane black-top road flanked on either side by cabbage palms, with the shoulder immediately dropping 3-4 feet to brackish water. You put your head back, close your eyes and conjure up images of busloads of scared and blindfolded young boys driven in the dead of night to their new “home away from home”. Those that survived the “Crucible” left as men, many paying a heavy price to keep America free. I always thought of my friend, Les Gove, who told me when he left PI he was ready to fight grizzly bears armed with only a toothpick.

Then there is the Beaufort Navy Hospital. An aging red brick building set among sprawling live oak trees, its wings jut out at odd angles from the numerous additions and renovations in its 60+ year life. The original main entry is a covered porch supported by traditional white Corinthian columns. It looks Southeast toward the bay and is situated on a truly spectacular piece of property.  You climb pre-ADA steps to enter and straight ahead lies a wide corridor with a floor has that glossy “spit-shined” appearance you would expect at a military facility. As you move down the corridor you see walls covered with framed pictures and read stories of young men, who with no thoughts of their own safety perform acts of unparalleled heroism. The Medal of Honor, the “Above and Beyond the Call of Duty” fraternity that most gave their lives to join. You walk, stop, read, shed a few tears and never feel more proud to be a citizen of the United States of America.

So I say every day should be Memorial Day. Every day we should demand Congressional action to match the promises made to our Armed Services Veterans.

Dusty

No Boundaries.........

Friday, the Holy day, our one day off. The sun erupted, bright and scorching, through a space between the to buildings outside my third floor window. 97 degrees and rising at 1:05 PM. In a month as the temps approah 120 this will be remembered as a cool day. During my first three months working in Doha some of you have received my "Dispatchs from Doha". With my entry into the blogosphere you will be entertained or bored of your own volition.

One of the many issues facing an American corporation wanting to become registered to do business in Qatar is until you are a registered businees your employees are visitors, working on re-newable 30 day tourist visas. We worker bees cannot have a local bank account which prevents signing  a long-term lease for an apartment or a car. This limits where one lives and how you move from place to place.
We have been staying at Le Park Hotel. It is located in the Al Saad neighborhood, containing a mix of residential, hotels, retail and restaurants. The local retail shops and a wide variety of restaurants within easy walking distance combined with a low, low daily cost drove the decision to take up semi-permanent residence here. Never mind the ranking of 106th out of 108 hotels in Doha. The so-called gym is a joke and after 5 years of nothing except rainwater in the rooftop swimming pool, this amenity was removed from the hotel website. All this said, it is safe, clean, bug free and in a Red Roof Inn sort of way, an OK place to stay.

The hotel staff is typical, Philipino, Indian, Pakistani and Nepalese. Their English skills are limited and training is minimal. What westerners might expect for hotel services is lost on this group. One evening about 8:15 there came a knock at my door. Standing there in my boxers, I opened the door to find the two man cleaning crew wanting to clean my room. Please return tomorrow I responded.

Then one day after work I entered to find that my dirty laundry had not been taken as I had requested. What I found out was there was no master key or duplicate key for my room. To have the laundry picked up or have the room cleaned during the day required I leave my key at the front desk as I left. My disappointment showed and the young woman at the front desk said someone would come get it immediately. The next surprise was the phone ringing at 10:25 PM that night offering to bring my laundry to my room. Please, tomorrow will be just fine.

These events were topped the night before last. It was my fourth night back in Doha after a wonderful and all to short visit home. Dog tired I had gone to bed early hoping for my first good night sleep since my return. The lazy drift toward the land of nod was interupted by insistent knocking at my front door. The second and third knocks told me there was no ignoring my visitor. I cracked the door open to find the bellman.....pleese suhr, can I borrow your key?....my key? you're kidding? No suhr, I need to try it on the room next door. good news, my key doesn't open the room next door. Back to bed and hopefully sweet slumber. And it was, until just after 1 PM. I was jolted awake by the sound of pounding in the corridor. Blam, Blam, Blam, then silence, stopped as abruptly as it had started. The picture above is what I found the next morning. No master key, no duplicates, no boundaries.....

Dusty