Driving to work. There isn't much at all in the way of drainage in this city. A little rain goes a long way toward throwing off everyone's morning commute.
One of the many "Think" campaign signs on campus, looking a little more subdued yesterday.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Raining in Doha
After almost four months of dusty and humid -- but mostly cloudless -- weather, we got three straight days of rain this past week, complete with awesome lighting and thunder. Photos reblogged from Jakob [1] [2].
Driving to work. There isn't much at all in the way of drainage in this city. A little rain goes a long way toward throwing off everyone's morning commute.
One of the many "Think" campaign signs on campus, looking a little more subdued yesterday.
Driving to work. There isn't much at all in the way of drainage in this city. A little rain goes a long way toward throwing off everyone's morning commute.
One of the many "Think" campaign signs on campus, looking a little more subdued yesterday.
Physics 208, khalas
Physics 208 and the final are over, which means I'm halfway through a year in Qatar now (that's too soon). In a month, team Physics will be meeting a new class of first-years, but all the same, I'm going to miss seeing the second-years on such a regular basis. Most of our job, day in and day out, is exactly as advertised -- teaching physics and grading homework -- but one of the best parts otherwise has been to get to know our students little by little as they've come into the office throughout the semester. By either nationality or residence, we've had students this semester who are from right here Qatar, in addition to Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Oman, Yemen, Bahrain, Syria, Iraq, Kuwait, India, Pakistan, Palestine, Sri Lanka, Egypt, Sudan, Tunisia, the USA, and more places I'm sure I've forgotten. And they have lots of stories, all told. It's been fun comparing notes on our 90s childhoods and video games and the high school years, sharing travel suggestions and visa horror stories, getting lessons in Arabic (my "2nd grade handwriting" notwithstanding), and, maybe just even exchanging a prank or two.
In the meantime, khalas. I fly to China on the 16th, and classes start up again on Jan 10.
In the meantime, khalas. I fly to China on the 16th, and classes start up again on Jan 10.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Retro-blogging Oman Part 1: Marhaba Oman
From Thurs, November 26, 2009
View Oman, Day 1 in a larger map
Happy American Thanksgiving -- though, I'm spent and going to bed early tonight. I think I should have ordered that cappuccino at dinner. Preparations yesterday were sort of haphazard: I stuffed my backpack with the essentials and went straight to bed ASAP (but not soon enough), got up today at 3am to catch a 4am taxi, and flew -- see map -- from Doha to Bahrain to Muscat.
I caught up on sleep where possible. From Doha to Bahrain, it's usually less than half an hour in the air, but the flight was held at the gate and delayed for another hour. I fell asleep right after strapping into my seat on the plane, so this news was lost on me, and I woke up sometime later to see Jakob snapping pictures of a city skyline below us. Seeing the time, I asked "Oh hey, are we there now?" to which he answered "Nah that's our apartment down there...we just took off." So I started out the day quite disoriented.
We got to Bahrain with minutes to spare and rendezvoused at the gate with Adam, who'd arrived the night before. It may have just been the shortest length of time I've spent in any single country connecting to another flight.
Anyway, everything worked out and we're here: marhaba bikum fii Oman! Basics first. The exchange rate is 1 Omani Rial (RO) = 2.6 USD. Or, since I'm getting used to Qatari Riyal (QR) now, it's easier for me to think that 1 RO = 10 QR. Then you just shift the decimal point over on the prices -- like the metric system, for money. It feels like things get pricey here if we're not careful. We're staying at the Golden Oasis Hotel, one of the cheaper options in town, for 70 USD total tonight. A ride from the airport to the hotel was 8 RO. The equivalent in Doha, I think, would be half as much.
Leading Oman is Sultan Qaboos: his portrait adorns almost every major bridge, hangs inside every public building and is rendered on every paper bill denomination of the Omani Rial. As the history goes (I was on Wikipedia a lot before this trip), he came to power in 1970 and is largely responsible for the country's gradual but -- by all first impressions -- effective modernization in the decades since. We're still new to the country, but at the very least, the infrastructure is impressive. The view along the airport-to-hotel drive is pretty: there's been a lot of effort that's been put into greening 
the roadsides and the median, but surrounding the highway, further out, are low, rocky, desert mountains. It's definitely not the flatness we've been used to. Oman and Qatar are both in the same Gulf region, but you wouldn't know it from their landscapes.
We almost didn't find a rental car because of the rush of reservations for the Eid holiday, but the hotel staff pulled through for us late in the day. With Adam driving the new Nissan Tiida, we drove off to the local corniche and wandered around the Mutrah area and the souqs. The roads are illuminated tonight by a kaleidoscope of colored lights, ostensibly in anticipation of Eid, but I couldn't stop thinking we were on some Gulf MarioKart version of Rainbow Road. But they looked cool -- very festive. Festive but funny.
Last picture -- rows of the Omani khanjar (ceremonial dagger):
View Oman, Day 1 in a larger map
Happy American Thanksgiving -- though, I'm spent and going to bed early tonight. I think I should have ordered that cappuccino at dinner. Preparations yesterday were sort of haphazard: I stuffed my backpack with the essentials and went straight to bed ASAP (but not soon enough), got up today at 3am to catch a 4am taxi, and flew -- see map -- from Doha to Bahrain to Muscat.
I caught up on sleep where possible. From Doha to Bahrain, it's usually less than half an hour in the air, but the flight was held at the gate and delayed for another hour. I fell asleep right after strapping into my seat on the plane, so this news was lost on me, and I woke up sometime later to see Jakob snapping pictures of a city skyline below us. Seeing the time, I asked "Oh hey, are we there now?" to which he answered "Nah that's our apartment down there...we just took off." So I started out the day quite disoriented.
We got to Bahrain with minutes to spare and rendezvoused at the gate with Adam, who'd arrived the night before. It may have just been the shortest length of time I've spent in any single country connecting to another flight.
Anyway, everything worked out and we're here: marhaba bikum fii Oman! Basics first. The exchange rate is 1 Omani Rial (RO) = 2.6 USD. Or, since I'm getting used to Qatari Riyal (QR) now, it's easier for me to think that 1 RO = 10 QR. Then you just shift the decimal point over on the prices -- like the metric system, for money. It feels like things get pricey here if we're not careful. We're staying at the Golden Oasis Hotel, one of the cheaper options in town, for 70 USD total tonight. A ride from the airport to the hotel was 8 RO. The equivalent in Doha, I think, would be half as much.
Leading Oman is Sultan Qaboos: his portrait adorns almost every major bridge, hangs inside every public building and is rendered on every paper bill denomination of the Omani Rial. As the history goes (I was on Wikipedia a lot before this trip), he came to power in 1970 and is largely responsible for the country's gradual but -- by all first impressions -- effective modernization in the decades since. We're still new to the country, but at the very least, the infrastructure is impressive. The view along the airport-to-hotel drive is pretty: there's been a lot of effort that's been put into greening 
the roadsides and the median, but surrounding the highway, further out, are low, rocky, desert mountains. It's definitely not the flatness we've been used to. Oman and Qatar are both in the same Gulf region, but you wouldn't know it from their landscapes.We almost didn't find a rental car because of the rush of reservations for the Eid holiday, but the hotel staff pulled through for us late in the day. With Adam driving the new Nissan Tiida, we drove off to the local corniche and wandered around the Mutrah area and the souqs. The roads are illuminated tonight by a kaleidoscope of colored lights, ostensibly in anticipation of Eid, but I couldn't stop thinking we were on some Gulf MarioKart version of Rainbow Road. But they looked cool -- very festive. Festive but funny.
Last picture -- rows of the Omani khanjar (ceremonial dagger):
Retro-blogging IstanBulgaria Part 8: Sofia and Rila
[I know; the remainder of these are so overdue. To view all of the Turkey/Bulgaria entries, click the "Turkey and Bulgaria Trip" label, either at the bottom of this post or over on the right-hand navigation bar. It'll pick out all of these entries and display them in reverse order.]
From Tues, September 22, 2009
View Rila day trip in a larger map
10:15 am -- The bus we're on now is far less comfortable than the one that took us into Sofia yesterday. Here in the back, the noise of the engine all but drowns out our conversation, the smell of diesel fumes is overpowering, and all the seats and walls are a dull shade of brown like the inside of my 5th grade school bus (the deja vu is satisfying but fleetingly so). I'm quite sure the vehicle couldn't have come off the factory line any later than the 80s. The driver's face occasionally glances our way in his rearview mirror, and we think he may be blind in one eye but have decided against asking, now that we're chugging along on the road.
We're on the way to the town of Rila. Onward from there to Rila Monastery, tucked away in the mountains but one of the main must-sees of Bulgaria.
Presently, we've just left Dupnitsa, a quiet tiny town at the foot of the mountains. We only stayed long enough to grab a meal before transferring to the bus we're on now. To get here, though, we woke up before the first light of morning and got on a bus leaving Sofia at the crack of dawn. It stopped near Dupnitsa by the side of the highway, from which we had to find our way on foot to the actual bus station. We were directed to follow the signs, and it took longer than it probably should have: one sign said in Bulgarian, "Aftogara," which, I only belatedly realized, resembled the word for "bus station" in French.
A thought: I'd like to have a serious talk with my high school self about why foreign languages are important and why I should have kept learning after graduating. It would have been worth it.
As for yesterday, we spent all of it wandering around Sofia. It was different than any of the places I expect we'll see today, with more trappings of a major city -- the buildings actually rise up around you, and there are more historical monuments to explore and parks to relax in. Once again, we checked ourselves into a hostel, this one run by an initially intimidating middle-aged lady who spoke in a thick accent. I would call the accent Bulgarian, but my ear so far is only sharp enough to discern that it's vaguely Eastern European. Ultimately, she was quite helpful and generous to us. We got some good restaurant tips from her, and when we bought ourselves a bottle of wine in the evening, she let us borrow her glasses to polish it off.
There's not much to say about Sofia that can't be better shown through pictures, but if there's one thing worth noting, it's the giant shift in social climate as we've hopped westward over this break. Granted, Qatar is progressive relative to its immediate neighbors, but it's still a country where it's inappropriate at best to show shoulders and thighs, where alcohol is tightly regulated through buying permits, and where it's technically unlawful to be eating and drinking publicly during Ramadan daylight hours. Then we arrived in Turkey, a Muslim majority country with an officially secular government. Mosques feature prominently in the Istanbul cityscape, but at the same time, bars do a healthy business serving raki and still stiffer drinks. Bulgaria simply takes it one step further. Beer is painlessly inexpensive, at about 1 USD or less for the cheapest tap. Lingerie stores abound on every other block, and gentleman's establishments, while not uncomfortably common, are openly advertised on signposts at main intersections. For better or worse, this place is obviously a world away from Doha.
9:40 PM -- Back in Sofia. One hour left til we have to catch the overnight train to Burgas. I'm slouched around the tables of the now-too-familiar bus station, while we all catch up email and catch our breaths. Rila and all around was worth the trip. Once we got to the monastery, we wandered around it for some time with the tourist crowds, before striking out into the mountains ourselves. We went up into the hills until happening upon a tiny retreat in the mountains. Rested for a bit, then headed back. It was beautiful; see for yourself.
From Tues, September 22, 2009
View Rila day trip in a larger map
10:15 am -- The bus we're on now is far less comfortable than the one that took us into Sofia yesterday. Here in the back, the noise of the engine all but drowns out our conversation, the smell of diesel fumes is overpowering, and all the seats and walls are a dull shade of brown like the inside of my 5th grade school bus (the deja vu is satisfying but fleetingly so). I'm quite sure the vehicle couldn't have come off the factory line any later than the 80s. The driver's face occasionally glances our way in his rearview mirror, and we think he may be blind in one eye but have decided against asking, now that we're chugging along on the road.
We're on the way to the town of Rila. Onward from there to Rila Monastery, tucked away in the mountains but one of the main must-sees of Bulgaria.
Presently, we've just left Dupnitsa, a quiet tiny town at the foot of the mountains. We only stayed long enough to grab a meal before transferring to the bus we're on now. To get here, though, we woke up before the first light of morning and got on a bus leaving Sofia at the crack of dawn. It stopped near Dupnitsa by the side of the highway, from which we had to find our way on foot to the actual bus station. We were directed to follow the signs, and it took longer than it probably should have: one sign said in Bulgarian, "Aftogara," which, I only belatedly realized, resembled the word for "bus station" in French.
A thought: I'd like to have a serious talk with my high school self about why foreign languages are important and why I should have kept learning after graduating. It would have been worth it.
As for yesterday, we spent all of it wandering around Sofia. It was different than any of the places I expect we'll see today, with more trappings of a major city -- the buildings actually rise up around you, and there are more historical monuments to explore and parks to relax in. Once again, we checked ourselves into a hostel, this one run by an initially intimidating middle-aged lady who spoke in a thick accent. I would call the accent Bulgarian, but my ear so far is only sharp enough to discern that it's vaguely Eastern European. Ultimately, she was quite helpful and generous to us. We got some good restaurant tips from her, and when we bought ourselves a bottle of wine in the evening, she let us borrow her glasses to polish it off.
There's not much to say about Sofia that can't be better shown through pictures, but if there's one thing worth noting, it's the giant shift in social climate as we've hopped westward over this break. Granted, Qatar is progressive relative to its immediate neighbors, but it's still a country where it's inappropriate at best to show shoulders and thighs, where alcohol is tightly regulated through buying permits, and where it's technically unlawful to be eating and drinking publicly during Ramadan daylight hours. Then we arrived in Turkey, a Muslim majority country with an officially secular government. Mosques feature prominently in the Istanbul cityscape, but at the same time, bars do a healthy business serving raki and still stiffer drinks. Bulgaria simply takes it one step further. Beer is painlessly inexpensive, at about 1 USD or less for the cheapest tap. Lingerie stores abound on every other block, and gentleman's establishments, while not uncomfortably common, are openly advertised on signposts at main intersections. For better or worse, this place is obviously a world away from Doha.
9:40 PM -- Back in Sofia. One hour left til we have to catch the overnight train to Burgas. I'm slouched around the tables of the now-too-familiar bus station, while we all catch up email and catch our breaths. Rila and all around was worth the trip. Once we got to the monastery, we wandered around it for some time with the tourist crowds, before striking out into the mountains ourselves. We went up into the hills until happening upon a tiny retreat in the mountains. Rested for a bit, then headed back. It was beautiful; see for yourself.
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