I zoom down the road in Qatar feeling my first raindrops in 2 whole months. I stick out my hand to collect them… but they seem to almost evaporate before I can pull my hand back in the car and touch my cheek to see if they were real. Oh rain. Rain in a desert. I never thought I would miss rain. Look forward to rain. Crave rain. Crave trees, crave green, spend time contemplating a single small sick-looking tree in the middle of … well, nowhere.

Today I wore a skirt for the first time in a month, in weather that hovers around 90F/32C during the day.

But first things first: I’m in Doha, Qatar, teaching documentary filmmaking at Carnegie Mellon University to a class of computer engineers and software designers, as well as building course materials. Qatar is a Gulf country in the Middle East that is rich in natural gas and oil, and awash in money. Lots, of money.

The skirt – it stopped short at about my knees, business-tailored, grey, and generally dull. But I felt scandalous: wind flapping against my legs as I walked through the long building to my office. Every breath of air against my skin felt strange, like the first time you dare to come out of the house in just a Tshirt after a long winter. You’re cold, but you’re also sick of your coat, so you shed the layers anyway.

Sitting at a table on the way are three women students chatting over coffee. Every time they take a sip, they lift the veil covering everything except their eyes to allow for the cup to reach their lips. I catch a glance of their faces each time they do this, though their eyes arrest me from looking too long. They are wearing an Abaya, which is a long black robe covering them shoulders-down. On top of that is a Hijab, covering their hair and necks. Finally is the Niqab, which leaves only the eyes for the world to see. Eyes that are many times beautifully painted, dramatic and sensual.

(Fact: Consumption of cosmetics is said to be strongest in the Gulf States, where average per capita expenditure is currently estimated to be $334 per person annually- one the highest rates in the world)

There are also women covered head to toe, including feet and hands. They wear elbow-length black gloves and closed shoes. You can see why wearing a knee-length grey business skirt might make me feel a bit of a thrill. Qatari women, however, generally keep their hands and face free, their eyes dramatic, and they Love. Their. Shoes.

Designer, diamond-encrusted, silk-ribbon-laced, velvet crimson 5 inch heels peek out of their robes. It’s blinding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a normal person wear heels like that back home, only runway model shows on TV. In any case, it’s a daily part of life here. They wear this to school, to work, to shop, to hair cuts, to banks, even to McDonalds and KFC (Yes! American fast food chains have bombarded the planet and Qatar is not an exception!)(Qatar’s rate of diabetes is soaring, and apparently all due to the consumption of fast foods).

I could wear a skirt everyday if I wanted to, by the way, but I choose to adhere to the diffuse guidelines of modesty; it’s not my culture and I wish to respect that.
Qatar is more or less open, although it is discouraged to wear revealing clothing, and things like miniskirts, short shorts, transparent tops, and skin-tight bodysuits will honestly get you in trouble. By trouble, I mean someone will just ask you to cover up… no stones or insults here. As for me, I don’t have to wear any Abaya, Hijab, or Burka/Niqab, and I don’t feel the pressure to at all. In fact, I’ve been wanting to buy an Abaya and wear it for fun. I like pretending to blend in, especially if I’m not forced or pressured to.

Qatar is a muslim country so there isn’t much Christmas cheer here (only at the hotels), and additionally, it’s warm and dry. Enjoy the snow for those back home!!!

Merry Christmas!

Love
Isabelle