Head to Doha for a hot Persian break
Caroline Hurry discovers souks, soaring skylines, searing heat and extraordinary architecture in Doha, the capital of Qatar
IT IS night as we fly into Doha. City lights glitter like stars beneath our Boeing as flashing motorways zigzag towards glass skyscrapers lining the Corniche, a 7km walkway following the crescent-moon curve of the bay. It’s all so futuristic that I think of robobabes in titanium lipstick, but then I had imbibed freely of the fermented grape. A good thing too, since nary another drop would pass my lips for the duration of our three-day trip.
Qatar, an emirate led by HH Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa AlThani, is a dry country in all senses of the word and any alcohol in your suitcase will be confiscated on your arrival at the airport. Some hotels do serve wine but this is ludicrously expensive — nearly R200 for a glass of mediocre red.
About 50 years ago, only tumbleweeds, scorpions, traders and pearl fishermen frequented the capital of Qatar, a small country bordering Saudi Arabia that protrudes into the Persian Gulf like a raised thumb.
It has been an apt symbol ever since Qatar was found to have 26-trillion cubic metres of gas — the world’s third-largest reserve. Already plump with petrodollars after the discovery of oil on the west coast in 1939, Qatar hit the jackpot in the late 1990s when technology allowed natural gas to be liquefied and transported by tanker ship.
Today, Qatar is one of the world’s richest countries, second only to Liechtenstein.
Native Qataris enjoy free petrol, gas and electricity. Also — get this — the government pays them to stay home. Reverse taxation, it’s called. Bring it on!
Taxis — the turquoise ones are cheapest — are plentiful. Top-of-the-range SUVs hurtle from one air-conditioned destination to the next, but drive out of the city and you see the wrecks of older, discarded models rusting on the side of the road. Redundant as transport thanks to the burgeoning motor industry, camels are now used for meat, racing and — I kid you not — beauty competitions. At the camel market, I ponder the ignominy of winning the Miss Sultry Eyes title one week and ending up on a bun under a slice of onion the next.
As we drive through a forest of skyscrapers and glinting glassplated monoliths, our Nepalese guide, Budhi Shrestha, tells us less than 20% of the people in Doha are local in a population of about 1.5-million. The rest are foreigners, brought to Qatar to help build the mega-malls, cultural venues and high-rise hotels. The most famous of these is the Pearl, a multibilliondollar development offering foreign investors a chance to buy freehold property in Qatar. Located 350m offshore of Doha’s West Bay district, this artificial island can house 40,000 residents amid five-star hotels, marinas, a yacht club, schools, restaurants and upscale shops along 32km of reclaimed coastline. For $25m, you can buy one of nine islands, each with its own marina and private beach.
Our room, on the 20th floor of the 26-storey Mövenpick Tower and Suites, overlooked the hourglass-shaped Tornado Tower and glass skyscrapers.
At the southern tip of the Corniche, the Museum of Islamic Art, a cubic masterpiece designed by IM Pei, the ChineseAmerican architect, offers free admission. You approach via a grand ramp lined with palm trees. The geometric design displays all the elements of traditional Islamic architecture — carved stone, domes, archways, fountains and courtyards. Inside the atrium you’ll find an outstanding display of Islamic artefacts, assembled by the emir’s cousin, Sheikh Saud Mohammed al-Thani. sell the silver ankle bracelets and earrings of Bedouin brides along with racks of traditional curved daggers, a masculine motif for the Qatari man. Their handles are carved from our endangered rhino horn.
Men in white dishdashas and flowing headdresses float through the souk followed by women swathed in black abayas. Like chess pieces, they mingle in the narrow lanes of the market, pausing to haggle over hardware, perfumes, spices, incense or pistachios from Iran. Bolts of fabric, shoes and traditional clothing line the walls. It was here that I bought — “special price for you, Madam” — a burka, good for bad hair days and dodging pesky hawkers.
Along the main alley are coffee shops and restaurants. Venture into the square and you’ll find leather saddles, carpetbags and striped blankets. Elsewhere I found birds, fluffy kittens, rabbits and even dogs crammed into metal cages; a most distressing sight but such is life in the Middle East, where animal welfare is low on the agenda.
One refreshing exception is the government-owned Equestrian Centre, home of the famous Arabian and European steeds. Here the horses live in pampered, air-conditioned luxury complete with a horse swimming pool.
Shopping is the national pastime of the Qatari women, whose appetite for designer clothing worn beneath their abayas would put Carrie Bradshaw to shame. The City Centre is the Middle East’s largest shopping mall. The ice rink at its centre must be a boon when temperatures hit 50°C.
Closer to the Pearl, the Vegas-like Villaggio Mall, complete with boutique-lined Venetian canal, gondolas and vast trompe l’oeil sky, is as tacky as our own Montecasino.
Like all the Gulf states, Qatar offers 4×4 “desert safari adventures” over knife-edged dunes to reach an inland sea. Fun if you’re feeling suicidal or don’t mind putting your back out.