Arabic Arabic Numerals, or Day 5 in Doha

My, I'm just working through that bucket list like there is no tomorrow! I mean, the lack of classes and enthusiasm of other exchange students might also be helping...

I mentioned to Shaza yesterday that I wanted to walk the cornish, and, in her great friendship and initiative, called a cab for us to take. But then two became three, then four, then six... and fate smiled on us and sent us another cab from the heavens. (It was actually dropping someone else off at the dorm, so perfectly timed for us to steal it.)

The day, like all days I've experienced here, was beautiful. The air wasn't as crisp as it could have been (a bit of smog/dust on the horizon) but I am never going to complain.

Now, the taxis all think that we are tourists (and we are for a bit), but they are taking every chance to stretch out our pockets a little further. The cabdriver turned off the meter sometime during our trip, and just charged us a fare at the end that was about 10 riyals ($3) more than we should have had to pay, but we accepted it.

However, on the way back, some of the VCU (Virginia Commonwealth University) students were "taken for a ride" by a guy with a car who probably wasn't even a cabdriver.

But enough of that nonsense and back to the beautiful scenery and wonderful weather we got to experience on the cornish.

We started on East Bay, by Souk Waqif ("the souk") and the Islamic Arts Museum. We began to walk and chat along the fairly well-used boardwalk. A few people were fishing, but what gladdened me the most was the number of families out. Zane and Brent were getting jealous of all the tricycles, scooters, plastic riding cars, balls, and miscellaneous toys that were being used all up and down the waterline. Each family had a picnic, with some lawn chairs even, and were content to sit and enjoy.

About halfway around the bay that Doha lies on, we reached a park. I know I was starving by this point, and I think that Afaf was too. We poked around to find many cultural arts stores closed (since it was Friday, the Muslim day of community prayer and rest) and a pool-like feature that wound around them.

We followed the hollers of children to find a polished cement "slide." I dared to go down, and, after trying to walk back up the polished surface, had renewed respect for the 7-year-old right next to me who was down then up again in a flash.

With my stomach still grumbling, I followed the paper cups of tea to the "Yes Cafeteria." Can you just imagine the questions they get? And I'm sure they can only answer "yes."

Well, we said "yes" to six Mega Hotdogs, some chips, and some french fries (the other kind of chips). They undercharged us, so all of our food was obtained for something like $10. And I know I was ready for the feast.

At this point, we were about halfway around the bay, and I had every intention of continuing to follow it to reach my goal (you remember, "Walk the Corniche", even though I spelled it wrong). Soon after we finished our meal and resumed walking, a man started advertising his dhow to sail us around the bay.

40 riyals per person, he said.

We said no.

15 riyals per person.

Then I perked up. Because, as you are aware, "Ride a dhow" was on my list too. And for $5 a person?

But we still had more of the cornish to walk, so a final refusal.

10 riyals. Final price.

I was hooked. $20 for all of us? But I was going to try to be clever one last time. I countered with 50 riyals for the 6 of us, but he wouldn't budge. Poor Brent, who I fear has a phobia of bartering, was slowly shying away from this whole encounter.

This refusal was actually well-fated, since we decided to walk to East Bay (by the skyscrapers), then have a dhow take us back to the souk area. Though we had to pay 17 a piece, it was worth it for me to not have to walk around the bend again. And, riding a dhow is crossed off my list too!

During our meander along the bay, we became showing off our "knowledge" of Arabic, which is really just the Arabic numerals learned from license plates. Arabic doesn't actually use the "Arabic numerals" that we are used to. Instead, it uses the Indian set. We were reciting off our knowledge until we realized that the only way we could describe some of them was using our own numbers. So,

Zero: a dot
One: like our "1", a line
Two: a backwards "7"
Three: a backwards "7" with an extra bump
Four: a backwards "3"
Five: a "0" or circle
Six: a "7"
Seven: a "V"
Eight: an upside-down "V", or "A" with the crossbar missing
Nine: like our "9"!

We had heard people planning on going to the souk at about 5 for dinner and wandering, so we were on the lookout for the Texas A&M people, and ran into some shortly. They kindly allowed us to add to their dinner party, and we ate at the glitziest, gaudiest restaurant I have ever laid eyes on. The Iranian (Persian) fare was ok, but it was the green chile peppers masuarading as green beans that stole the show (and taste buds from four of the males sitting at my table). They were crying tears of pain, and Daedri and I were crying tears of laughter.

Michael is the only one I really feel sorry for. He seriously thought it was a green bean, but spit it out only after it left a painful mark. Ziad, Brent, and David did it to themselves, each trying to outdo the other. When Sophie joined in... we were all in tears.

After wandering the souk and sitting and talking at a sheesha place, it was time for Shakir and I to pick up the last of the CMU crew from the airport. Jessica was in a lively mood, ready to get back to a city she loved last spring on her IMPAQT trip, and we packed her off to the dorms in a jiffy.