Thanks to the very slow pace of doing business in Doha, and uncertainties about whom to trust — just being without bearings — I find myself at moments beginning to despair and think, I have no real reason to be here. What does this desert patch have to do with me, or I with it? How does this perpetual starting over in new countries really benefit us? I’ve got no patience lately with talk of broadening horizons or exposure to new cultures. Then again, where is home? We have to make a life from the ground up wherever we go — countries are different but the labor is the same. So might as well get on with it.
I acutely miss being outside. There are few sidewalks, only massive construction and big busy boulevards and blazing heat. All day we’re either in glass buildings or cars. Then again, on evening visits to a local playground, A. is three for three making interesting friends: an Argentine chef, an Ethiopian family, and a Syrian poetess. Carry on.