Christmas In Doha

This overseas thing has its challenges. I discovered how sad holidays living overseas can be, and I'm not necessarily talking about me being homesick (it's hard not to miss my people and city, but I really, really don't miss the celebration of Christmas in particular back home; watching it on Facebook makes me thankful that the distance enables me to avoid most of the elements I've come to reject).

A feeling starts to permeate the environment, early in the season, of people who have to figure out vacation plans to feel like they are living a life separate from what they left home to do. Many (like me) cant afford to go back home or choose not to because we'll get taxed on our income over a certain amount of days accumulated in a year back in the U.S. (So don't expect to see us on U.S. soil much at all until 2014, maybe.)
Some will spend their first year not being able to go back to the war-torn country they left to come here (some of the Syrians and Lebanese). Some just wanted to leave here, so they went anywhere. Because it was somewhere. Some stayed here. Very few, but some. And some clustered together and created a type of family unit for the holidays. We all did that at the beginning of the season, sort of as a way to tell each other "We have each other." Then we all tried to get the heck outta here.

My wife and I are probably the last here that have plans to go elsewhere. We didn't run out and I'm glad because I needed the time to not feel like a traveler, or a worker. I keep thinking of this Jamaican mom, who is here only with her young son. Just them two, in a pretty empty building. On Christmas. In Doha, Qatar. We make what we feel are the best decisions, and that doesn't mean they'll feel like they're the best decisions all of the time.
You know, I don't celebrate Christmas. My wife still likes the odd decoration, or to give a gift to a kid or something. But for the most part, we don't participate. That doesn't mean I don't feel the season. Well, there's social networking, of course. There's over two decades of never questioning...anything, especially the meaning of holidays in our society. And even though its 80 degrees here in a Muslim country (and you'd be surprised how much Christmas cheer is here; there is a push to accommodate the ex-pats during the holiday season, and everyone wishes you a Merry Christmas - I'm like, "Y'all are more into this than I am!").

The season from Thanksgiving to New Years has traditionally felt like the season to get off track. Eating that throws off health habits, spending that creates financial concerns, family gatherings that can be unpredictable, reflections on goals that may/not have been achieved the previous year, resolutions that begin another cycle of questionable habits. I find myself choosing how much to act like I'm into it all because of those around me. But I usually just want the coupla months to pass so we all can go back to normal.

I'm gonna be in Colombo, Sri Lanka, which once sounded extremely exotic but now just sounds like a cool, exciting place to visit, similar to Philly or the Carolina coast. The difference is that the culture will be very unfamiliar, but I know a good handful of Sri Lankans, and with the way my world has shrunk, not much seems too "out there" anymore. Guess that's why I've been visualising Felix Baumgartner's jump so much recently. Or wanting to research what internal thought processes, and external variables lead us to new places in our mind. Because, as much as physical travel can be exciting (and I haven't done a whole lot), at this point in my life the intrigue only extends as far as it can facilitate my internal journey. If my next trip doesn't take me to the edge of the atmosphere (forget inner-earth travel - I ain't with deep sea exploration, caves, or any other internal earth trips, haha), it must take me to the edge of my consciousness.

Anyway, I'm gonna continue watching the Knicks (11pm is the earliest I've ever caught a game - live stream of course) and I'm gonna eat my last Magnum ice cream. Yum.

National Day and Thoughts on Self-Expression and Sandy Hook

The day after tomorrow is National Day! They get it POPPIN' for this day. Not only do folks bring out their Beemers, Benzes and Bentleys, but they also trot out their camels, falcons and donkeys (and eagles and tigers). They feast and make merry.

I'll definitely ask someone to let me hold one. With my bare hand. And if anyone asks you how I roll, tell them like that. Barehanding a falcon.



"Catch me convincing Qataris to ghost-ride the whip on National Day..." #bars

This is just...ill.

According to Wikipedia:

"Qatar National Day (18 December) is an opportunity to recognise and celebrate the actions of Qatar's forefathers who endured severe hardships and paid a dear price for the unity of their nation. Qatar National Day also emphasizes the identity and history of the country, embodies the ideals and aspirations that the country was founded on and pays tribute to the men and women who participated in building the nation, especially the Al Thani family, the current leaders of Qatar."

It also means that tomorrow (the day it's celebrated in school), the kids come dipped in their best threads, food is plentiful, there will be performances, a few animals on campus AND the kids are dismissed EARLY!


And of course, we are off on Tuesday!








Friday, I will be having a traditional Iraqi dinner with the family of one of my students! Fish - YUMSTERS! Maybe this? -

Omega 300s

Apparently, if we mistakenly teach geometry by drawing a 6 pointed star (i.e. Star of David), we could be in HOT water. You know why, don't you? Of course you do.

"And this, kids, is a dodecagon. Relax. Not a Jewish one. It's non-denominational."

The school improved the wi-fi connection at our apartment building, which we all find very exciting because Skype is infinitely more major here (at least to us) than it was at home, and you need a good connection to really live. And I don't get the unlimited data love like I had back in the States so 3G (no 4G here yet) isn't an option I wanna take advantage of.

Who am I kidding - I don't Skype, call, text, email, any of that. They STILL haven't made communication easy enough for me. I'm waiting for y'all to catch up to my telepathy.

Did I tell y'all that my building is a converted hotel owned by the brothers who own my school? They also own cable, jewellery, car rental, department stores and a bunch of other businesses.

Individuality is not so encouraged at my school. I think it's an extension of the British instructional standards that the school used up until this year. A teacher asked if the students could at least wear colorful socks to show individuality and the response from admin was, "I don't see why they would need to wear that." If you know me well enough, you know what my daily response is to the suppression of self-expression.

I'm showing "Diary of a Wimpy Kid," there's a long church scene with crosses, priests and communion, and I don't know if I should fast-forward the movie or not.

The Knicks are so real. 21-1 at home for any stretch of time is magnificent. Quarter of the season done and we are elite. We look like this at the break and call us contenders. I already do but I understand your hesitation.

Man, how SAD is it that protecting your students from gunfire is yet another VERY REAL possible requirement that isn't in a teacher's job description? Talk about a hero. Hard to find any peace with this kinda stuff man. And let's not ever say that this stuff only happens in the boonies. Connecticut hits so close to home. It can happen wherever there are people and guns. And please let's not turn everything into a self-serving debate. I hope we all can at least agree that we are anti-the-person-who-had-the-gun-who-did-this. He used a dangerous weapon in the worst way, that's a fact and that's a statement about dangerous people and access to dangerous things HOWEVER you want to look at it. A living breathing pro- or op-ponent of gun control shouldn't feel smugly satisfied by being able to argue and/or prove their point regarding the issue. Ok, you're right. Or wrong. Over 20 still died. And this feeling I have about these victims is no stronger or weaker than the feelings I've had about the lives that have been lost that I've heard about my whole life growing up in the hood. It's all just...it's tragic.

Y'all have a great day. I'm gonna go make mine greater, because I've been off for 25 minutes, but I'm blogging off of their ethernet game - you know how I do! Peace!

Sri Lanka For The Holidays!

I'm going to Colombo, Sri Lanka for the winter break and the COMBINED cost of air and hotel for my wife and I over a week is HALF the cost of one plane ticket back to the US. I'm hoping to ride an elephant, climb a holy mountain (whatever that is), and not get up at 5am.

Who am I kidding, I'll still rise at 5, but at least I can lay around and scratch and play with my phone until I'm ready to get up and...further lay around and scratch and play with my phone.

We asked our driver to hear some music in the morning, and there was none available, just prayer. I can't understand it, and I don't necessarily prefer it, but I could always use some.

I keep this in mind: "No one anyone does is because of you."

It's a projection and reflection of their own reality.

We're supposed to be in our car by 5:55. I get up a little after 5 and it's difficult. I go to bed pretty early but not 9pm, and I probably won't. In the past I'd just assume that I have to be more disciplined and accept the misery of rising even earlier. But rising at 4:30 am to get to school that is 10 minutes away and doesn't start until 6:45 just doesn't make sense for me. Not if I'm miserable because of it, and I'm not getting anything done in particular during that time. I do it because I didn't get a driver at the beginning of the year so I ride with other people, people who want to get to work early. That's what happens when you don't plan ahead. My issue, not theirs. So it's on me to fix it.

The school maintenance workers look so weirded out when they come into my classroom after dismissal. I don't blame them. They don't know if I'll be blasting gangsta shit, singing loudly along to George Michael's "Last Christmas," or doing dips in between two tables they're getting ready to clean. Maybe they come in while I'm "liking" some weird pic that Mario "liked" on my newsfeed, or using a meter stick to hang every anchor chart at the exact same amount of inches from the whiteboard chalk ledge. Either way, they usually nod and smile while their eyes look like they're saying, "Just one day I'd like to dust without you weirding me out, you freak." Haha. Too bad I can't get drunk with them like I did with the maintenance at my old school. I suspect they are infinitely more interesting than the teachers here.

Then again, I've never heard ANYTHING like the kinds of things that came outta the mouths of the teacher I played the drinking game "Never Have I Ever..." with on thanksgiving. My goodness, the stories these international teaching veterans have.

There are like, hardly any garbage cans in Doha. But the city is quite clean. Because there are workers ALWAYS cleaning up after people. There aren't any trash cans in most Burger Kings or McDonalds; people just leave the trays on the tables and someone cleans up after them. That's pretty much how it seems to work here.

I start tutoring next week. Single mom, difficult kid, it'll be an adventure.

When it gets chilly here (70 F), people wear jackets and scarves. Back home, 70 F meant short sleeves for me. But I must admit, 70 in the desert feels like maybe 60 back home.

Some people talk a lot probably because they can't stand the sound of their own thoughts. But they shouldn't invade yours because of it.

You want a natural rush? Make a cup of green tea with two bags, let it sit until it's just warm, and gulp it down fast. It'll mess with you. I first started doing this with coffee, but I've switched it up because the tea is natural-er. I thought I wasn't too sensitive to caffeine. Not the case. I know, I know, this is all too fascinating for you to bear.

My wife got mad at me because I was very tired and fell asleep during the second movie we saw at the Doha TriBeCa Film Festival. I'd be mad at me too. The star and director was right next to me. My body was like "off now." The films I stayed up for were pretty darn good though. Especially the last one, "No Place For Men" was the title, I think.

It rained this weekend and it was beautiful. That isn't common. And it was appreciated.

The Latest

I had a meeting with a parent and principal a week or two back and he told me that "This isn't like Brooklyn or something. I've been to America, I lived there for 9 years. Things are different here. The children are spoiled. We call
Them sweetheart and give them anything they want." He felt I was being too strict with his child. I felt like his child was playing with the wrong teacher. I gave him a few minutes in the morning, unofficial, informal meeting time. I told his pop that I'm not there to be his child's friend. Pop didn't like that. He also apparently didn't like y body language. So the boss got involved. We hashed things out. His son is still acting up on certain days. And he's definitely NOT having fun on those days.

Something I don't like about teaching in a private school: when teachers are absent, the present teachers cover that teacher's class during their preps. For once, I'd like to be in a school that utilises subs. I am not a fan of subbing OR having extra kids in my class.

Fingerprinting went SO much better than the medical. We took a long bus ride into another town, where we sat in the most pleasant chairs to get fingerprinted quickly and orderly.

Something I like about teaching in a private school: Afterwards, we stopped for coffee and pastries on the way back. Took most of the day. No one complained.
I haven't been fingerprinted in years; did you know that ink isn't used anymore? Yeah man, they used a screen of some sort that captured all of the detail of the fingerprint. It was really cool-looking.

I really do have to watch my body language though. Apparently I frequently use a gesture that can be interpreted as "goat" in some form or another. And like I said, the parent took my body language during our conversation to mean disrespect. I felt him sizing me up but didn't know why until we met with the principal. She asked me to placate him within reason before we got in the meeting. I killed him with kindness then kindly told him that the way I run my class is the way ill continue to run it. And...things of that nature.

One of my students does not speak good English and once every two weeks he walks calmly to my desk and just stares for creepily 3 seconds until I say "What's wrong _____?" Then he says very solemnly "I will vomit." I frantically tell him to get the heck outta the room. I just know one day he's gonna vomit on me. I've accepted this, I'm at peace with it.

I know 4 Arabic words/phrases - shame, I swear, soon and hurry. So I can say "It's a shame how soon I hurry to swear" in Arabic.

I still have to stop myself from saying "God bless you." I've noticed that that's not a thing. Or is it?

The 'r' rolls harder in Arabic than it does even in Spanish. I love it.

I heard the prayer call on the radio (as opposed to right outside of my window at 90 decibels every 70 minutes when I get home from work) for the first time. It sounded DOOOPE. No I will not make the sacrilegious joke you have come to expect from me. Not while I'm in their country haha!

I had 11, 14, 14, 17 students (out of 26) each day this week. Sickness. Hope I don't get it. Hope they continue to have it. Kidding, somewhat!

I'm starting to really like Doha. Very urban but they need a public transportation system and better pedestrian walkways. I stepped out around 5:30pm, right after it got dark and the temperature went down, and the streets were buzzing and I almost felt like I was back in NY on an early fall day. Made me miss the energy I'd feel from the city moving back and forth between working out and cooling down. I wonder if I'll ever be a part of that again.

StarPower Horse

I ventured out on a Friday evening (which is like a Saturday back home) to get a haircut. My barber offered me (and I accepted) one of these "Power Horses." It's an energy drink. With all these dudes posted in front of the barbershops and chilling on the sidewalks talking, I get the feeling that this is sort of like a beer would be back home (which I've gotten offers many times). It IS a stimulant. I guess it would be sort of like a grown up drink. I gladly accepted the show of hospitality after another barber tried to cut his throat and sit me in his chair. My barber is really cool, an Indian Muslim named something like "Safardeen." We talked a bit about NY and India and then we discovered we're both huge wrestling fans (wrestling is wildly popular here and you can find it on TV every single minute)! He likes all of the good guys and dislikes the bad guys, and I think he was disappointed to know that certain guys (such as John Morrison) wouldn't be coming to these parts during the world tour. I was surprised to realize that he didn't know those guys (like Batista) weren't wrestling for WWE anymore. But then again, most fans aren't marks like I am. Wrestling is considered more of a sport, it even comes with the cable sports package and they have shows that we dont have. He is, of course, a Great Khali fan. It was cool to be in a familiar atmosphere. It was the pg version of home - 2 guys having a drink, talking about sports during a haircut. I told him I'd be back in 1 or 2 weeks. I like the atmosphere, it's in my old neighbourhood, which is kinda cool, and I like his vibe.

My Racist Medical Exam

Yo, b.
Came up in this hospital (finally getting my medical, which gets me closer to receiving my residency papers and making me legal here for a longer period of time) to see a hundred men in a room and a Qatari security barking at me "What do want?!"
Yo. Took a lot not to tell him, "My man, don't play wit' me, I'll slap u out here." He saw where I was coming from and I got sent to a different line. Good. Hoping it stays cool.

Ok, so, my colleague is white and he was just switched out with a better number than mine, even though I was first. So I went back up to get a better number. His is still one ahead though.

So at this next line, check this out - they skipped him again, then lumped me with the non-whites. I banged on the window and they looked at me like I was crazy. They don't get that type of behavior here so they called in a translator. I said, "So these numbers (the number I still had in my hand) mean nothing?" He politely rambled something amounting to "No," and crumbled it after taking it like it was top secret. I thought it was a special ticket. Expecting this doesn't make it any less frustrating. So I raised more hell, to only slight avail. They hit me with the "no speaka English" then tried to take care of me. Thank u to the helpful dark man, btw. Maybe a black Qatari. He told me what the rest of the process would be. While standing in phlebotomy line, another white man was skipped thru. I was furious and grilled him for everyone. He looked as happy as he should look. Wasn't his fault though. And honestly, I feel bad for the little preferential treatment I got.

The doctors were cool to me. I'm on x-ray line now. I will say that the American passport at least changes how they talk to me (and if it didn't, I WOULD)....wowwww, my colleague just got skipped AGAIN. The BLACK security took VIPs (I knew those tickets meant something), didn't even look at me. Came back and put him in very FRONT of VIP line. I actually waited about 120 seconds (proud of myself). Then I went up to security and said, "I'm from the same school as him, do I get moved also, or do I stay on the other line..." And before I could finish my sentence with "...because I'm not white?" he looked at my passport and put me at front of VIP line. Although it represents a lot I'm conflicted about, I know my colleague did nothing and (maybe?) feels guilty. I feel guilty for skipping. I don't want the pressure of the feeling of being at the front, in front of all these dark labourers. So I told him to stay there. But I did stand behind him. We were not only skipped, but skipped to the front of VIP. VIP in a hospital. For being American, but really, for him, for being white, bc he didn't have to do anything be skipped.

When I get in front of medical staff, I literally have to find opportunities to speak so they know l'm American. I hope this is the last line. This is getting tiring....I hate that I now feel a way about holding the door open for my colleague while I'm here and letting him walk in front of me. I mean, I'm a nice person, I do those things. I hate that I'm thinking about how it looks. I hate that there are people who invalidate my feelings by saying "I should feel this/that way" or that it's a problem I create bc of perception. Racism sucks more than some will ever know. And no one knows how it feels for a black man. Y'all think its games. Yea I joke also, mostly to keep from spazzing. The knowledge of self I do have helps me a lot. But please don't tell me that I should just be secure or it's about my perception and stuff like that. My shoes would burn through the soles of your feet, so don't do that. It's just...you know, it sucks. It is what it is. It doesn't have to take on any life beyond that. Anyway, we're finished way quicker than we should be. Gonna catch a nap until the ladies are done.

P.S. They told us to wait for 5 minutes before going outside after the x-ray. Wtf? Scares the hell outta me.

I be getting randomly homesick. I was thinking about Juelz saying "'55th exit, damn already we home." That used to be a good ass feeling. 155th off Harlem River Dr., 158th off Henry Hudson (or is it 57th), 161 off Deegan, exit 5 Saw Mill, exit 11 Hutch, exit 13 Bronx River, exit 2 off 87, exit 4 cross county. Even when I finally hit Riverdale Ave. cuz I was driving up Broadway from 125th, 156th, all that, up to Yonkers on the suspended/restricted license late night haha, avoiding high way patrolling. I miss traffic finally breaking and me turning up "All Eyez On Me" or some Dugout shit. I miss knowing my night out was worth the wack time I'd have parking, maybe even having to park in the lot or get up early to avoid a ticket. I miss justifying going real fast late bc it felt good to be young, black, successful and feeling good about it. I miss knowing I made the right decision not to continue chasing the fun when I'd see my doorman, sit in front of my tv, and lay down in my clothes, content as can be. I miss stopping at McDonalds 3am, 4am, 5am cuz it was my only anti-hangover remedy. I miss those things. But it also reminds me of chances I was being really dumb in taking. I don't miss pigs creepin just cuz you're driving around late night; I used to keep my music low at certain times to stay alert for them cuz they will roll up on you quick in numbers. I don't miss walking to my car and keeping an eye on cats in random neighbourhoods. I don't miss having to decide if I can make it home on a few drops of gas, DEAD TIRED and it's mad cold out. I don't miss those things. But all in all, I lived a pretty cool life back home, great nights with good friends at special places. I'm creating new memories here. Sometimes I can already identify things I'm going to miss. And not miss.