Trapped in Qatar

In August, I was offered a job in Barcelona. I took it because I had nothing else lined up and, free trip to Barcelona. It took a few months to work out the logistics, but in October, I flew the million miles across the globe. It is closer to 6,000 miles, but it felt like longer. I did not fly directly from Hong Kong to Barcelona. I know those flights exist because I have seen their boarding gates at the airport. Instead, I flew Hong Kong to Doha, Qatar. That's 10 hours.

Then came my favorite part. The flight landed in Doha at 23:30 and the flight to Barcelona left at 09:00 the next day. When I saw these numbers, I knew there would be two options. Either I would be stuck in an airport when everything is closed in the middle of the night for 9 hours or I would be stuck in a shopping mall in the middle of the night for 9 hours. Either choice sounds hellish to me.

It turns out Hamad International Airport has a hotel you can stay in without going through immigration and leaving the airport. They even have special rates for people staying 5 hours or more. That sounded great to me. Until I went to the reception counter and found out the price. Their special short term rate was US$600. For 9 hours. I don't want to know the full day rate.

Actually leaving the airport might have been an option, but how much of Doha is awake in the middle of the night? I know pretty much nothing about Qatar, but I know that the Mediterranean side of the Middle East is not exactly Las Vegas. Jerusalem's streets are beautifully harrowing at three in the morning. The fact that I know that made me hesitate to even look into leaving the airport. As a transfer passenger, no one in Doha looked at my passport. Had I left the airport, someone might have noticed the Israeli visa. Would they care? I don't really know. I suppose it would depend on what was happening in the news that week. I'm willing to bet that most of the people in most of the Persian Gulf region only buy into the propaganda when they are forced to. But I only had 9 hours. Dealing with repressive governments that hate women usually takes longer.

The airport was fully open in the middle of the night. There was more than enough food and shopping available at 03:00. I found a relatively comfortable chair near a children's play area and, since I traveled alone, did not sleep a wink.

After waiting 10 hours for my flight, since it was delayed, I flew from Doha to Barcelona. That's another 8 hours.

At Barcelona Airport, someone was waiting for me. That was pretty good since I was staying at an apartment rather than a hotel and telling a taxi driver where it was would have been difficult. The person who picked me up talked non-stop the entire 45 minute drive. I have no idea what he said. I think he was speaking English. After 33 hours on planes and at airports, he could have been speaking Klingon for all I know. Fortunately, the apartment was ready for me and the bed sheets were clean.

The point of this trip was to work in Barcelona, which I did. What I knew nothing about beforehand was that I would also be going to Amsterdam and two different cities in Portugal. Barcelona took months to plan. Everything else just happened.