Safety & Cycling

As Qatar send troops into Syria I gaily wander through the days here feeling as though I am in a huge bubble of bubble wrap, safe and sound. Occasionally I pinch myself really hard and remember I am in the middle of the Middle East living on a gas field. We are a protected peninsula, our neighbours troubled by their constant conflict. The Emergency Evacuation notice on the front door of our building instructs us to go to the security gate of the compound upon hearing the siren (which we did during a siren test in the holidays). Thinking of health and safety what noxious gases do I inhale whilst cycling around like Miss Hubbard in Greendale, whizzing past Postman Pat? As I slice through an invisible sulphur screen smelling of rotting eggs, it gags in my throat. I pass miles of bending white pipes carrying their precious product, blood pumps through my veins while I pedal. Let's have a race, blood versus gas.
I won't get to see the London Olympics live this year but every day I see the eternal flames of the gas burners, making the days even warmer and the nights brighter. Like gigantic candles on this dry and barren crumbled cake of a desert dessert. Note to new year dieters, stressed spelled backwards = desserts.
Only one steep hill to challenge me here, up to the jebel where the flag flies or lies depending on the wind. It is our landmark here as Emley Moor Mast is there. When the wind blows it does remind me of home, cycling my roller coaster hills, exhilarating and beautiful. In my mind I smell grass and manure, drink rain and hail, splatter through muddy puddles. Push pant, push pant, the labour of hard exercise. Breathing deeper to pass the whirring windmills, wave to the farmer, baa to the sheep, sing to myself on top of the world.
You could say I wear my heart on my sleeve but when I went for a recent interview I also wore it around my wrist in the form of a delicate silver bracelet. The tiny diamond in the heart sparkling confidence, a lovely gift from a dear friend. Who could not be dazzled by such a charm?  I proudly claim "the job is mine" as if I were Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. After a ten year career break I will be rewarded in Qatari Riyals for my services to the community here as a Teaching Assistant. I will endeavour to keep blogging but unfortunately will have to put the golf lessons on the back burner for a while!

Now That's What I Call a different Christmas 1

My first post of the new year and as I write the thick morning fog is disappearing as surely as the steam does from the bathroom mirror after a hot shower.  My eyes acclimatise to reveal a female version of Tom Hanks' character in the film Castaway. I suddenly realise I haven't had my hair cut in six months, my sun bleached eyebrows would provide excellent bedding for the nest of a small bird and I could have won the 'grow a moustache for charity event' open to the male staff way back last term.
I kicked off the new year by visiting the gym when the rest of the family went back to school. To my horror I had to be weighed and measured again as when I first enrolled. Each body part was tape measured and noted and each body part had got BIGGER. I dismissed the sincere concern of my lovely instructor with a giddy laugh and 'of course it's muscle' reply. I didn't even eat any Christmas pudding. Is it just paranoia or am I really Bridget Jones?

          Christmas

• We may no longer be members of the excellent Holmfirth Harriers but are now Qatar West Coast Hash House Harriers. The Hash is basically a kind of trail you follow in the desert, followed by drinks and sometimes food.  Hashmas was great fun with people dressing up in Santa hats and the like. We ran or walked the course, then round a blazing bonfire sang Christmas carols and songs to the accompaniment of guitars, trumpets, kazoos and a ukulele. There was lots of festive food to devour including mince pies. The bus load of Cubans who appeared certainly brought a party spirit to the scene. On another Hash we enjoyed a spit roast lamb in a spot called Ship's Canyon and in the same area yet another day, spied a small luminous green scorpion with it's black sting visible.

• Christmas Eve saw us carol singing en mass around the town. It was very festive and we stopped off at three houses for drinks, food and singing before finishing up at the Golf Club. An open truck with the band on it led the way. A great ex-pat effort was made to celebrate Christmas Eve, which surprised me but filled me with joy. There were approximately 50-60 adults and children of all ages and the singing was rousing and cheerful.

• Santa did steer his reindeer to a safe landing and after the presents were opened and enjoyed we set off to enjoy the warm sun on the beach. I challenged my father-in-law to a sea swim. I wore my swimming cossi and leggings (were they to provide me with psychological warmth or to cover the vein?) and Jimmy his rainbow speedos. It was freezing but great to swim on Christmas Day in the Arabian Gulf. We warmed up by eating chip butties and  playing beach cricket. The buffet tea was easily accessible to all on our lovely second hand table, with lazy Susan spinning around her delights at the touch of a finger. I may one day allow my husband to spin lazy Susie around on the lazy Susan and see what happens.

• Boxing Day for the Hoyles is usually spent at a friendly Lancashire cricket club, the men playing a match in all weathers women and children chatting and showing off gifts, eating more mince pies and drinking mulled wine. This year I managed to take the whole family to the Christingle service at church which was familiar to me and comforting. Not to mention the whole reason for the season. I'm not sure the rest of the family were as thrilled as I was. Afterwards we joined in a game of Texas Scramble on the golf course. It was great fun followed by lovely food, a great quiz and a white elephant raffle. Altogether a very different but very enjoyable Christmas free from commercialism but with full measures of peace and joy. Of course as author and editor I am choosing to exclude any mention of family fall outs and tensions. Could that be the start of the blog sequel, Susie's Arabian Nightmare.

We did go out to see the dolphins again over the holidays and spotted only a couple but they gave us a 'never before seen' spectacular show of frolics and leaps, twists and turns and very smiley faces. We laughed as the kids named them Splashy and Jeffrey.
Nigel got a great photo of one dolphin fully out of the water. It was only when he put the picture on the computer and we enlarged it that we could really see Jeffrey in all his glory. We will look out for some baby dolphins swimming in the sea soon.

For photos of our adventures find Nigel Hoyle on facebook and he may let you be his friend!

Dear Santa

                                                                                                                                    
Dear Santa,
I think I have been a reasonable citizen this year, but who am I to judge? All I want for Christmas is for the praying man to be a bit quieter at approximately 4.47am every morning. I am a tolerant person and respect the Muslim faith here but now it's winter (between 16 and 25 degrees, depending on the wind) and we have turned the air conditioning units off, I wake with the call to prayer resounding  in my ears and the necessary beauty sleep disrupted. This seems doubly unfair as we are on holiday now and the alarm doesn't go off at 5.30am, so we could in theory have a lie in. If a small voice or the loudspeaker system failing is too much to ask for then maybe some ear plugs will do. Thank you Santa.
I am also quite concerned about how your reindeer are going to land on the roof. Please take extra care as I don't want one of them to crack a hoof or even worse break their leg as they negotiate the fort like walls, with the central turret holding a vertical ladder down to the secret door, where I presume you will enter in and deliver the presents.
Lots of love,
Susie of Arabia (formerly of Shepley)

PS I wish all my family and friends a very peaceful and joyful Christmas time and Olympic measures of health, wealth and happiness for 2012. I love you and still miss you xx

PPS Just as groove is in the heart, Christmas is most definitely found there.

40th Birthday

I did not really want to go to sleep the night before the birthday. It seems in a blink of an eye that a decade has passed by, the thirties being my child bearing years. (I really didn't want a surprise 30th party with three weeks to go before giving birth to our lovely first born daughter in 2001). I don't want to let go of that decade of nurturing and enter the next unchartered chapter. What will it bring? An Arabian Adventure yes, but what else? Despite the fat burning, cardio kick boxing, swimming and cycling the jelly belly is still relectant to release me from it's greed induced grasp. It's my buoyancy aid, keeping me afloat here.
Sleep eventually enveloped me and then next thing I know it was sunrise in the desert dawn of my new decade. I received lovely surprise parcels and cards, fab facebook messages via Nigel, texts, e-mails and mobile phone calls. I treated myself to skyping my brother in "chucking it down" Clayton West, West Yorkshire and my best friend in blustery Bray, Ireland. A thoroughly modern, technological birthday best wishing event. It was great! The only shadows were cast by the clouds building up in the now greying sky.
I was thrilled with my new blender bought by my family. Perhaps I can whizz up some organic fruit face packs to combat the hairline facial fractures we call wrinkles.
Another desert dwelling friend hosted a coffee morning for me which was supposed to be a surprise, but being the detective I am, I sussed out the situation a few days in advance. So were the tears when the cake baked with love bearing one solitary candle arrived real or crocodile ones? Real of course. It's surreal to be specially treated by lovely new friends only just met. We are all in the same boat here no matter where we come from. We all need each other in our cosmopolitan community.
When we have coffee mornings here at the not unusual time of 9am it's like having lunch because we've been up since 5.30am and our kids have been at school for two hours. So as well as coffee and tea you get sandwiches, crackers, biscuits, fruit, spring rolls, noodles and of course buns and cakes. It is a fantastic feast and probably why the belly remains.
After school and keeping one eye on the weather we wrapped up in jumpers and went down to the beach club for a buffet. Now I have to mention the gorgeous green, hand knitted cardigan that my mum so lovingly made for me. We laughed and joked about me wearing it in 40+ degrees but I actually do need it because this afternoon it's chilly. I carefully put it on  in a private symbolic ceremony, feeling instantly warmed and cherised, my mum cuddling me through the soft green wool from the other side of the world.
The wind picked up and the waves were crashing onto the beach sending spray like the many water sprinklers do when dousing the grass. Someone suggested a shamal was brewing ( a sand/wind storm). As the wrapping paper clouds ripped I thankfully received my present from the heavens in the form of rain. I couldn't help running through in my mind the set list Jamiroquai would be playing to their frenzied french audience tonight. "Rock Dust Light Star, coming at you baby!" ........ now look and see those stars for you and me". Jay Kay is in his early forties, perhaps we could go out for dinner and then to a disco together sometime. What do you say Jay?
I slept smiling, thinking of the love I have for my friends and family and which was shown to me in so many kind ways today.
We decided to host our first party here on the 25th November, making it yet another 40th do, not to be rivalled in any way by the revelling in St. Paul's hall in July. I was surprisingly nervous but rose to the occasion with make-up and a smile. It was a great opportunity to declare our bar open and as Nigel ripped the make-shift banner of toilet paper from the back a huge cheer arose and the celebrations began. One of the perks of being a Westerner is that we can apply for a liquor licence and then visit a warehouse full of booze, bringing comfort and thirst quenching relief in this dry and barren dust bowl. It is however a little unsettling when Joshua tells people, "We've got a pub in our living room."
I don't want the lad to think this is normal behaviour do I?
We had some food, more cake of course and a sing song with Nigel and a music teacher on their guitars. It did feel like home having the flat full of  kids, adults, noise and music.

First Rain Poem

First Rain

Pitter patter footsteps,
running in my room.
Pitter patter on block paving,
my beloved came.

Almost three months have passed
since I saw you last.
I instantly feel at home.

We cry quietly together, our tears falling down.
You gently caress my hands and face,
feeling new and exciting
like the first time.

We connect.

I smell your damp freshness.
Inhaling deeply this intoxicating scent,
heaven sent.
Not forgotten, yet longed for.

We sit awhile, more relaxed now,
I'm momentarily mesmerised.

Too soon you quench my thirst and leave
me wanting more.
Juliet like I wait by my window,
for your return.

I know you will.



Suzanne Hoyle 2011

First rain

So the rainy day did come and with it a poem. It also meant that I could begin reading Gig by Simon Armitage (signed copy remember?) I have nearly finished it because it's BRILLIANT of course. He can write no wrong in my book. I did send him a poem earlier this year ( For Simon Armitage - this is not a love poem) after I went to hear him read at Huddersfield University, where I got the book signed. I wonder if he read it?
Prior to watching England v Spain a single tear ran down my cheek as I listened to the National Anthem. Then a minute of silence held for Remembrance Sunday, which I honoured. Despite missing the homeland and in spite of my faith I am not missing the barrage of Christmas hype on TV and in the shops, it doesn't exist here.
But my faith remains, as does my hope and love.

Half Term Adventures part 2

Dolphins

Another boat trip this time out to the dolphin reef.
As a group disembarks the boat we are to climb aboard I enquire whether they have seen the dolphins, "not today," they reply. We set off with three friendly families we have met here. It's always exciting for me leaving the dry land and venturing off into water. I have great memories of my time as a volunteer onboard 'Cockney Spirit' a 40 foot, two mast ketch used to take young, disadvantaged people on sailing holidays. It was a Christian project working as a Charitable Trust and made my love for the sea and sailing as concrete as the hull the boat was made from. I had a fantastic nine months with the charity in 1994.
We power about two miles out to sea, then sleek, grey black fins appear in the near distance. One, then two, then three and four. Much excitement from us adults and the children alike. We chase after them and they frolic and arch, creating bubbles and froth near the boat. Up and then down almost copying the boat as it bobs on the surface. They swim so close, so fast, enjoying the engine as it churns up a wake. Our driver knows exactly what they like and when he has enticed them he cuts the engine off so it's silent apart from our shrieks of delight as they play hide and seek with us, now you see us, now you don't. Smiling and happy are the dolphins, as are we. Under water they illuminate and become silvery green. It's so magical and beautiful I don't want it to end. When you look carefully you see the jagged edges on their fins, small scrapes and scars on their bodies. Just like us they are imperfect, yet still very special and unique. The next thing I know we share the same sea and swim in their space. This time I dived into the deeper, darker water, not as nervous now. They don't come near and even though I know they are only dolphins three things immediately come to mind:
1. Dead Calm-film
2.'Dead in the water,' song by David Gray
3. Jaws-film


I think I stay alive in the water for 10 minutes, before climbing back onboard.


All too soon we return to shore, all of us so happy having seen these lovely creatures enjoying their natural habitat, between Qatar and Saudi Arabia. I can't help but feel blessed because we have been out three times on this boat and every time we have seen the dolphins. Some people have been here four years and still not seen them.


Souq wakif

The number 1 thing to do in Doha according to the Lonely Planet Guide. Does this mean I can come home now? Of course not. Not until I have had a ride on a grumpy, spitting, hump backed camel and got the photo to prove it!
The Souq was once a weekend trading area for the Bedouin, I discover from the Marhaba, Qatar's premier information guide book 2011. It certainly is an amazing place to visit and I already want to go back at night when it is all light up and more hustling and bustling. We arrive in need of toilets, I always need the toilet even after a relatively smooth car journey. I ended up in the male public conveniences for some reason and at least two other men came in while I was relieving myself. I flushed and peeked through the door, Nigel told me to wait. Gulp. I tried again to escape, again he ushered me back. Yikes, I was starting to panic! A day stuck in the toilets would not be very pleasant or my number 1 thing to do in Doha. Third time lucky, I held my breath and waltzed out doubly relieved.
We found ourselves in the animal section which was a most bizarre and disturbing experience given that the day before we had seen the dolphins swimming freely. All the animals were in small cages apart from some out on display stands. There were brightly plumed macaws, orange and yellow canaries, rabbits upon rabbits, puppies, quail, terrapins, toads, mice and wait for it, fluffy dyed pink, yellow, orange and green chicks up to 30 or so in cages! This seemed doubly unfair especially as there were plenty of pigeons flying free above, perching on the wooden beams and ledges of their choice. They were lucky to be born free I suppose.
As we walked through the labyrinths of narrow passages, each turn brought new sights and smells, bright coloured cloth, incense and spices, pots, pans, pictures, sunglasses, hats, pashminas.
There were older men with identity tags on carting wheel barrows full of purchases. We didn't employ one but I wanted to scoop up one tired, frail man put him in the wheel barrow and give him a rest and ride, like my dad did to me when I was a child. 
There was a very cosmopolitan feel to the restaurant area, and there were many Qatari men in full white robes with red and white checked tea towels on their heads. How do they stay so immaculate all day long? With our varying shades of gingerness and freckled faces we stand out like pigs in blankets in a pork free society. But we are accepted and respected here.
We sit outside a Lebanese restaurant. I order coffee, Nigel has tea. Joshua has fresh orange and Eleanor has hot chocolate in the daytime heat of 30 degrees or so? The tea comes in a handle-less glass and is black. When we ask for milk we get a quirky look from the waiter and I explain with open arms and a shrug that we are in fact English. He returns with a white, porcelain gravy boat, full of hot milk as if to make a drama out of a near crisis.
We also decide to try a Shisha pipe as everyone else seemed to be doing it and when in Rome and all that. The gravy boat milkman suggests the grape and mint flavour of nicotine free tobacco is very good. Nigel seems to take to the pipe very well! I feel like Sandra Dee from Grease coughing and choking after one inhalation of the pipe. Young and old men and women all seem to enjoy puffing away on these snake charm like pipes. I'll just stick to drinking in the atmosphere and coffee, thanks.

I'm posting this on the significant last day of my 30's!