Doha, Qatar

Doha has a bay covered with sparkly buildings--not huge skyscrapers but lovely building shimmering even at night. There was a flame burning bright in the distance. I'm guessing an oil refinery. I have only an hour layover, hence no chance to see more of the city.

So it's just shy of 7 pm here in Doha and yet the flight crew fed us breakfast on the plane about an hour before arrival. We had dinner upon boarding, 12:30 am New York time and 8 hours later breakfast. Only it's actually somehow 20 hours later and dinner time. But I just had eggs!

At the transfers section of the airport, the security official asked me where I had arrived from...I stuttered. "Milan?" he asked. I took it as a compliment. Silence, brain malfunctioning, I apologized in English and at the same moment we both uttered New York.

In Doha's airport there are signs for the following (in English and Arabic): Smoking Room, Toilets, Quiet Room and Family Lounge. Upon approaching these areas, however, there is also a Prayer Room. Full of shoes and then farther in, men lined up following the daily regiment of duty to their faith. I wonder, was anyone on the plane praying? I did. But religion for me isn't necessarily directional or active. I remember Abubakar, the dishwasher at the Flying Biscuit back in the day. He used to leave several times a day with a cardboard box he'd broken down to pray. I'm curious...what are the rules? It's the first time I've ever seen a prayer room in an airport.

A young man just passed by head-to-toe in white, a black band around his forehead holding his headscarf in place. Not only traditional, I imagine, but talk about some comfortable travel wear.

Here are the remaining departure cities for the next few hours: Bahrain, Dubai, Kuwait, Muscat, Bangkok, Chennai, Abu Dhabi, Hyderabad, Cochin.

Welcome back...

So, I can't tell if the guy in the window seat of my aisle is just kooky or if I make him nervous. He keeps getting up to find another seat. Blond(ish) western woman...ha! I've already got them running for the back of the plane to get away from me.

The flight attendant just brought him back to his seat, and he begrudgingly struck up a conversation with me. Ok, maybe it's not me. Or what I look like. He's an engineer. From Bangladesh. His mother is dying and he and his sister, who lives in Atlanta, were considering moving her to Singapore. It is a small, small world. He's shorter than I and sure squirrely. He reminds me of Digger from the cartoon Shirt Tales, not sure anyone will remember that one.

He moved to another seat once and for all. No complaints. I'll stretch out in my 3 seats for sure. The flight attendant touched my on my shoulder and revealed that she'd moved him on my behalf. She just couldn't do that to me. Her name is Hayet, which means life. She's from Austria, but originally Algeria. She just came back to offer me a drink. Pre-flight. Apparently, they have quite a selection. Wow, do I look like a drinker? Don't answer that. She admitted that she was on the tired side herself. She'd spent the night clubbing in the city. She's wearing pearl earrings, her hair pulled back in a bun. Professional. Welcoming.

The emblem of Qatar Airways is the oryx, similar to an antelope, and is also the name of the in-flight magazine. The airline itself reaches to quite a number of international destinations. Launched in 1997, it will begin flying its longest flight on March 30th to Houston, "linking the energy capitals of the world--Doha and
Houston," according to the CEO Akbar Al Baker. I have never thought about Houston being one of the energy capitals of the world. Hmm.

The magazine is ingenius. Written in two languages, English and Arabic, the magazine starts off in English, as we read English. Front to back. Left to right. The back of it is written in reverse order and in Arabic, as it is read. The middle of the magazine is a mirror, on the left the last page in English, on the right the very same final page in Arabic. Maybe I'm an idiot, but it just seemed brilliant to me. Capitalizing on both markets, neither impacted or distracted by multiple translation.

So, each time the captain comes on the PA, he pronounces Qatar Airways like Kotter Airways. Not like Vinny Barbarino, Mr. KotTERRR, per se, but evocative of the t.v. show nonetheless. I've been saying KaTAR, not Kotter. They should use the theme song while loading in passengers!

The new

I'm at JFK. I fly to Doha, Qatar tonight, then on to Bangkok, Thailand. All 18 hours of flight and time changes, I get to Thailand Wednesday morning.

The flight crew for some airline just cruised by. One of the flight attendants is in a beige suit, the kickpleats of her skirt red. And she wears a small red hat Jackie O-style, with a white scarf tucked under the hat above the right ear that sweeeps under the face and wraps around the neck. Elegant. Classy. The scarf is almost like a veil (and I'm sure can double as that, depending on airport and country). Already, I'm excited to see new things. And I'm only in Queens!

Oh, and happy birthday, Mom!

Miss Millie

Today I searched through the contact list in my phone and the first letters I hit took me to contact "Nana." My grandmother, Mildred Carter Hutchison Woody, passed away Monday, February 23rd. A pistol, one could say. She was a real pistol.

She fell ill over Christmas, recovered, and then ended up with pneumonia again just a few weeks back. She conceded to remedies for a few days, but then decided that she had had enough. She refused food and water, only taking morphine when necessary for about a week, and then died.

It's moments like today that make me nostalgic. She was stubborn. She wanted things her way. Who doesn't? She may have been difficult a time or two. Who can't? But still, she was my grandmother. She was also the last of the grandfamily for my brothers and me. Whether you accept family or deny any similarity, it's still all you got. I'll miss you, Nana. Hope you got where you wanted to go, and hope you're looking down on all of us. Smokin'.

One last stroll

We have had a lovely snowstorm this past weekend. The city is calm in the snow. You can almost hear the snowflakes fall to the earth. A quiet so rare, blissful.

I walked through the neighborhood on a leisurely stroll. I am headed to travel again and wanted to say my goodbyes to what has been home for the last 6 years.I love the park in winter. They are also still mulching Christmas trees, the scent of evergreen lingering in the air.

Having moved out of my apartment over the past week and into a storage locker, my next adventure has begun. I am staying with friends (thanks to all of you) and living out of a few bags. It's a bit maddening and has all come together in a very brief timeframe, but I am thankful to be able to travel again.

Lucky 13

Happy birthday, Gray! It's a big-un but I hope you know that we're all proud of who you are.

Here's to a new decade!

My hood

My girlfriend Rebecca recently mentioned that she wished she'd gotten to see my apartment and life up here in NYC. I told her about this grand new invention called the airplane that could actually take her from anywhere in the world to just about anywhere else in the world. Who knew?!? Sarcasm aside, she had a point.

I've chronicled my life while traveling over the past few years, but have neglected my life when it's just that. Life.

I live on a street made up of mostly subsidized housing. There's a senior facility across the street with 24-hour security. One of the guys who works there is my friend in particular. We wave and smile.

And then there's Theresa. I'm not sure what she's on, generally speaking, but it's usually something. She lives two doors down and is always out on her stoop in the summer. She's quite friendly and inquires about my kids (of which I have none...at least not at the time of writing).

Across the street next to the senior facility is a squattors' building. A couple of years back, someone living there rigged up electricity into the building that started a fire. A few days later the city condemned the building and forced everyone out. In the past few months, like most of the city's "affordable" housing, the building is being renovated for surely luxury condos. I still can't imagine why anyone would pay $1.2 mill for a one bedroom essentially on Avenue D. The housing and mortgage crisis has yet to affect this city. Here's my bet for the next new luxury residential address for New Yorkers: 11 Wall Street!