HOW
TO CENTRE YOURSELF WHEN YOU ARE TRAVELING OFTEN? Thoughts from DOHA
As
I entered the Al Mourjan Lounge at Doha International Airport, a young man clad
in grey suit greeted me: Nice to see you again, Sir!
It
made me think of what is real and what is fantasy, in this world we inhabit,
where we temporarily interact with thousands of people: of course, in a case
like Doha, the line between Fantasy and Reality is determined individually of
course.
The
power of relationships is what overwhelms me. Just on this day in Doha, three
different Uber Drivers, all with the name Mohammed Plus something (Noushad,
Rasheed) asked me:
Are
you Pakistani?
Are
you Sri Lankan?
Are
you Bangladeshi?
At
the check in at a fancy hotel in Doha, yet another Mohammed opens his eye in
awe, as I begin to chat away in Spanish to his colleague. I dress to confuse
the innocent onlookers, with cotton clothes from Cambodia or India, with a
business card with a Kathakali mask featured on it.
With
Sofia from Lisboa, I spoke a little bit of Portuguese, she marveled at my
Brasilian accent, while I wondered how would it be to wander around the walking
streets of Lisbon, the very same street that one hosted Fernando Pessoa, while
chatting away in her sonorous language.
I
am thinking of my dear friends in Havana (who are tattooed into your heart,
said a cunning fake artist) and the Indigenous people I have become attached
to.
Sofia
briefly touched on the reality of the workers in Doha, many of them young
women, far from their homes, toiling so that they can provide for their parents
and siblings.
These
workers may be exotic in our western eyes- Limbu speaking Nepalis with
Bhutanese features, round faced Filipinas carrying deeply Spanish names,
betraying their indigenous roots in their faces.
I once asked a young Nepali
woman where I could find good Nepali food in Doha, she answered: I do not eat
out, sir; that unfolded the entire story of that delightful maiden from the
shadows of the great mountains.
What
is real for her? She is exotic in our eyes, as I dress to look exotic in the
West. As Sofia exclaimed: They can teach us so much!
I
have been molded by the many teachings of the Native American Indians, one
learns to keep an innocent heart, cleanse your mind of judging others, and look
at them as pure creations of human spirit, doing a noble task. For them the
reality is not the opulence of Ritz Carlton, the exuberance of Marriott, the extravaganza
of Al-Safwa First Class Lounge (repeated a hundred times in Kingdom of Saud
Arabia, Kuwait, Dubai and Abu Dhabi and to a lesser extent in Oman, to certain
degree in Malaysia and Singapore)
I
salute you, young ladies of the Orient for allowing me to enter the world of
your dreams.
Europeans
who come to these shores are following a career or family members, usually a
stepping stone to a diplomatic or corporate life. They know the best places to
eat and drink in Doha or elsewhere in the Persian Gulf, in the company of other
expatriates and create superficial rituals such as Brunch. The term expatriates
are best used for them, as workers from India, Nepal or Bangladesh are not
truly expatriates, as we know the term in the West. These Europeans will return
home, as I do after each of my bi monthly visits to “exotic” Doha or Siem Reap
or Kuala Lumpur or Cochin, carrying this image of the Levant, adding stars to
their CVs, all well deserved. I admire their courage and far sightedness to
come to Doha, to savour another life, even if that life lacks originality.
I
salute all of you, shamelessly raising Billecart-Salmon Champagne from my seat
1K aboard this Qatar Airways flight bound for South East Asia.
Right
now I wish I could recant these tales of love and ardour to the many who have
touched my heart in passing. Without them knowing I loved them deeply.
Now
they whisper the tales of my deep emotions, in Persian, that language of love
and passion, in the shadows of the Karaj Mountains. Whatever happened to the lady
who spoke Spanish with a Japanese accent, where did she take her passion away?
Find
yourself a good woman and settle down, the cunning jealous ones would say.
I
can only fall in love with the innocence, not with Doctors or Lawyers or
Diplomats who cross my path with their thick agendas.
So
to my Nepali, Sri Lankan and Filipina friends in Doha, it is I who is lost in
this universe, this wandering Jew, sitting in this corner of Qatar Airways
Flight, usually in seat 1K, attended by one of your Filipina or Korean sisters,
savouring your innocence, the best gift you have given me and I wish you
nothing but the best.
I
love all of you.
