Toothpaste, Flights and Bags of Powder

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The time of our trip seems to have flown around with all the usual excitement and worrying. Getting through Heathrow Airport took a while as we seemed to be at the opposite end of the airport from what we needed every step of the way. There was a brief moment of panic for Pete as Julie disappeared to buy toothpaste as the clock ticked towards departure. Eventually we saw her running across the airport towards us and aboard we all got.

On arrival at Doha everyone seemed determined to persuade us not to leave the airport. We were told that we wouldn't have time and that the souq would be closed. Maybe they'd heard about Mam's punctuality problems. Our doubts grew further when the passenger in front of us was refused a visa. The girl behind the immigration desk wasn't the most cheerful of people but after a bit of wangling we finally got through, complete with visas.

Now to find a taxi. Please remind me next time that I go anywhere that following two men across a darkened carpark with a promise of 'cheap taxi' is never a sensible thing to do. Luckily we came to our senses before we got into a blacked out 4X4 and went instead to the official taxi line. There we found a driver who agreed to take us to the souq, wait while we had a look around, and bring us back to the airport again. The journey was longer than expected due to the number of closed roads but, after some serious arguing from the driver, we were eventually allowed to squeeze between the cones.

Although large parts of Doha are still a building site, the half-built hotels and offices that I saw last time I was here have now been completed and look good.

Our first stop in the Souq Waqif was a spice shop. The smell of hundreds of spices mingled in the air while the bright colours were mixed and layered in different concoctions. I have bought a couple of bags of spice which I have persuaded Mam to carry in her bag when we pass through Thailand. If she's a few years late getting home, please feed the cats.

Doha at night is a mass of outdoor cafes. The smoky smell of cooking food mixes with the sweet smell of shisha as groups relax around their hookah pipe. Had we had the time we would have joined them but, the words of warning from the airport ringing in our ears, we thought it best to head back.

Next stop.....HONG KONG!

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