Expect amazing. This was the motto that won Qatar the right of hosting the 2022 World Cup. So when I visit the tiny Middle Eastern state, I’m expecting to be amazed.
Qatar doesn’t disappoint. It’s the mix of East and West, new and old, in a country the size of Yorkshire that leaves me both amazed and dazed. Doha is the capital of Qatar and its skyscrapers are a hub at the desert’s edge. Between high-rises, spaceship-shaped hotels, and minarets, you can see the sci-fi skyline.
Mondrian is the five star Mondrian berth that I share with you. It’s a sort of ambassador of wonderment. In my room on the 17th floor, I find a welcome note from the Guest Experience Team: ‘We hope you enjoy your stay here at our wonderland.’ In the lobby, a black spiral staircase leads up to . . . nowhere. Turns out it’s an artwork.
Dizzy heights: Doha’s dramatic skyline, where ‘minarets peek out between spaceship-shaped hotels and high-rises’
Sticking up into the Persian Gulf like a hitch-hiker’s thumb, this country-on-the-move is super-rich thanks to oil and gas.
Yet its Islamic culture means polygamy is legal but homosexuality isn’t. You can’t live with your girlfriend unless married.
Although the hope was for modernisation ahead of the World Cup to force reforms, the brutal conditions faced by migrant workers have been reported to be responsible for a series of fatalities.
It is hard to get a local reaction to these charges — mainly because I don’t meet many locals. The majority of the population (2.8 million) and the drivers and waiters I meet are South Asian expats.
Thomas stays at the five-star Mondrian – an ‘ambassador of amazement’. You can see the hotel on right
Abdullah, who is young and from Qatar, approaches me to enjoy a shisha in a upscale bar. I am happy to share Western criticisms about his country. Concerning workers’ treatment, he snubs his Qatari headdress and huffs back. ‘My government respects foreign workers more than its own people,’ he declares.
Abdullah is an electrician and says that it’s difficult to find foreigners to work for him because of all the regulation. His charm is unwavering, despite my questions. Even paid for my coffee.
My second experience of Qataris comes on a ‘dune-bashing’ trip. Ismail, Samir, and Ismail drive two Lexus 4x4s in our group as they explore the desert. It’s quite a ride, as our heavy cars crest the gentle rise of each dune, then tilt over the drop before swooping down through the soft sand like snowboards.
Thomas says that swimming at dusk on the Inland Sea (pictured), is an amazing experience, as ocean meets desert.
The public beach at Katara, in mid-city. You can choose to have a section for your family or one for you men.
The Inland Sea is a magical place to be at sunset. It’s where the ocean meets desert. The sun sinks like a tennis ball at the horizon as I dry my body. Samir quietly places a prayer mat on the Lexus and looks towards Mecca. Ismail speaks later about his wife and how eager he is for a third.
Also, we are treated to some sobering but useful desert wisdom. A summer traveller who is lost amid these dunes can die in four hours without any water. We do have water. Mid-November is also a time when temperatures are comparable to an English summer. This is what footballers in this area will experience later in the year.
Some have suggested that the army of fans accompanying the teams won’t find enough to do between matches. That’s nonsense. You can go to the desert just one hour from Doha. They can also visit the capital to enjoy beaches, galleries of art, and top-of-the-line restaurants.
It’s easy to get around, thanks to the new Metro system — and easier still to book an Uber, which costs half what it would in the UK. For £4, I reach the public beach at Katara, in mid-city. Westerners should respect Islamic modesty. No Speedos, no bikinis.
The beach is segregated into a family section and one for men, though when I’m there it all seems quite relaxed.
Doha is proud to be the most safe city in the world. There’s no chance of being mugged. Perhaps the greatest danger you face here is ‘amazement fatigue’. It is possible to wear the clash between rampant capitalism and religious conservatism.
When I’m there, the highlight of the contemporary art scene is a show by Jeff Koons. While Qatari women squint at the balloon dog (Orange) in their hideouts, I look up and stare at its childlike appearance.
Koons’s brash consumerism sits uneasily beside the carpets and pearls of the nearby National Museum of Qatar.
Even the former, which guides you through centuries of heritage and history, is still a marvel.
This is Qatar’s National Museum of Qatar. Thomas says: ‘The building has no straight lines and was designed to resemble a “desert rose” — a flower-like crystallisation of gypsum found in the desert’
Qatar’s Souq Waqif, with Le Pouce, an enormous gilded thumb by the French sculptor Cesar Baldaccini (pictured on the right)
The building has no straight lines and was designed to resemble a ‘desert rose’ — a flower-like crystallisation of gypsum found in the desert.
Souq Waqif is a place where I can see trays full of colorful incense, and barster for beautiful bowls. Stepping out of the ancient marketplace, I’m confronted by Le Pouce, an enormous gilded thumb by the French sculptor Cesar Baldaccini.
Even in the new airport, amid outlets of Harrods and Dolce & Gabbana, the call to prayer is intoned over the intercom. The clash of cultures is, truly, ‘amazing’.