Monday, 23 March 2020

Corona Part 2- The real problem


Media is funny. I sometimes wonder if it is all directed and controlled by one secret control centre somewhere.

Have you noticed with Corona? At first they were all writing that only old people die from it. And now, have you noticed? How many articles suddenly popping up about a little girl who is on the ventilator...and a random young person, only 24...no underlying conditions...and lots more? It is almost as if they panicked, all together, and thought shit, shit! No, we didn't mean to do this, sorry!

They were the ones who spread the 'only sick and old people die, don't worry guys!' news around and now, when they saw all those stupid students who just wanna party on their spring break because they don't give a shit about anyone else, media started backpedalling, frantically. They are so obviously trying to fix their own fuck-up.

They fucked up. because:

a) Majority of people are stupid. There are people who do stupid things because you know, they are ignorant and don't know any better. But, amazingly, there are people who do stupid things even though theoretically, technically, they should have certain amount of brains. They have degrees and jobs and make good money.

Today, I was reading a discussion on one group chat. One of the fathers suggested we "stay safe" and use sanitizer to clean equipment in their small kids' playground. Another parent responded with a suggestion that that particular disinfectant was not strong enough and suggested to mix it with bleach. Wait, said another one. Bleach is harmful for the kids! Lets use Dettol! And nobody, not one of those nice, friendly, educated, western expatriate parents thought for just one moment that it makes absolutely no difference which disinfectant they use, and how often... when all their small kids (who don't have much control over keeping a distance or touching their faces, or covering their sneezing) play on top of each other for hours, all in a group.

This is the bunch of people who worry whether security guards and gardeners are all "clean". As if Corona is not something that can affect our little bubble, our western community, as long as the labour and security get regular checks. How hard is it to understand that there is little point in social distancing and closing the schools, if you then bring all those small kids to play in a park all on top of each other? Dettol away at the every centimeter of that slide five times a day, but all it takes is for one of those kids to pick the virus up from their pilot or doctor parent ( just for example...) and cough and sneeze all over those lovely clean blond children. Isn't that obvious? Clearly, not.

b) People are selfish. Terribly selfish. I don't know why everyone is so surprised at all that panic buying, at the youngsters not caring about someone else dying as long as they are okay...and people continuing to socialize and go out while that smart media keeps trying to influence them not to. You know why all those articles about young people dying now appearing all over social media? Because that is our only hope to stop those idiots. You can remind them of sick people, you can beg them to think of their parents and grandparents...You can continue posting flattening curve diagrams...They don't really care. That's the problem this world is facing, not the actual virus. You can try and post all sorts of inspirational influential cards, but they will still do what they want. Unless you change your story, and try and convince them they themselves may be lying there gasping for air, dying without a bed in ICU. That may if not stop, then slow them down a little. But only this group, the selfish one. Not the one above, who are hopeless.

So what to do you say. Well, there is only one thing that is possible and needed- a total control. A total lockdown. Thats why I have hope for the countries where the government had the balls to say you know what, you can't resist going out so I will make you stay in. You don't like it? Tough. Stay at home, you stupid selfish wanker. And stop buying so much toilet paper.

That may just work.



Saturday, 14 March 2020

Corona- Not all of it is bad.



So...Poor Abu Dhabi still not getting its' turn in my blog.

I was going to write about it...and now this corona thing took over my attention completely, understandably.

So...Corona. Well, you already know everything there is to know about it. But I am going to tell you about this strange funny feeling I have from the situation. I cannot quite explain it, can't quite find the right word...it is almost relaxing this not being able to control anything but washing my hands and not going out much.

It reminds me of the time when I was pregnant. You see, when you are pregnant, other things sort of step back and pregnancy takes over completely. You turn into this machine which cannot worry about some things, like for example exercising enough or whether you go on expensive holiday or not, and some other things in life; you just worry about your baby, and delivering it properly and safely.

So, this whole corona situation now is a little like that. You see, I had plans. I was going to Baku for a week, husband was not too pleased about that, as he would then have to stay with the kids over Easter.... Also, when it came to summer plans, we as a family could not quite decide or agree on where to go.  One child preferred England, another somewhere more exotic...I wanted to go everywhere... plus maybe Paris, as someone offered us a cool place to stay for free... all of a sudden, we no longer discussing summer vacation. We just don't know what will happen.

Suddenly, I can't have the big housewarming party I have been planning....and yes, I am disappointed but also relieved as I had 45 people on the invite list and it required a lot of careful planning and work, not to mention all that expensive booze!

My job announced that we could not travel or take any leave until further notice, so suddenly my dilemma when and whether to go to Baku is no longer a dilemma. I am not going anywhere at all.

My children, away from most of their friends and school, are forced to be nicer to each other and spend more time together. I caught them painting and playing Wii games together, something rarely seen in our house.

And I am learning to just relax. It isn't something that comes to me naturally.

I sit in my garden and watch the plants grow. There is action there, too. The other day I saw a falcon attempting to snatch some eggs away from a pigeon nest. That was pretty cool.

Today I had time to use three!!! face masks I had bought ages ago and didn't even remember I had them.

I have been to the gym more! And maybe will even finish some of those Netflix series we had started but never finished. Fck it, I might even start that book I have been promising to start for years. Might even get to finish it, depending on how badly corona gets me and when.

I am thinking of all those brunches I wasn't sure whether to go to, or save the money...Shopping... expenses...dinners....Imagine, I said to a friend the other day, I may end up saving money!! Something I could never master however hard (I thought) I tried.

Of course, I worry. I worry about my mother being alone there, in Baku. Especially since according to Azeri reports, they only have 15 cases so far.

I worry about my cardiovascular issue which, according to all the death percentage charts, is the ultimate winner.

But somehow still...it is what it is, you know? It is completely out of my sterilized hands. I can't change anything, I can't make any plans other than trying to survive as long as possible, and I can't go anywhere. This uncertainty, bizarrely, can be quite relaxing. Until now, this couple I know has been agonizing whether it was safe enough for them to go on their planned holiday to Thailand. But not anymore! Now Thailand is out of the question for us from Qatar, so the stress of making that dangerous call has been removed from their lives. See what I mean?

Corona can also be used as a fantastic excuse. Anything you don't want to do you can excuse yourself from doing because of Corona. Don't fancy going for milk? Sorry, corona! Don't want to attend meeting? Corona! Don't want to invite someone for dinner, even though it has been your turn for like a year? Corona.

Even my teenager daughter tried it today when I asked her for a favor. Please, I said as I was already upstairs and about to jump in the shower after gym... please can you go to the gym and fetch my watch that I had left behind?
But mama, she said, I don't want to go! I don't want to get Corona!

Ha, I said. Nice try! Get off that butt and go get my watch NOW. I will decide what is safe and what is not, and I reckon, you can take that little risk.

So you see...it isn't all that bad.

As this Russian joke said.... This time next year, you will be laughing at all this Corona craziness. Well, not all of you will.

Stay safe, guys. And remember to flatten than curve.






Sunday, 16 February 2020

Cute love story


I want to share a very cute love story with you. 

It filled my heart with emotion when I heard it. No, that’s not quite right. More than one simple emotion, in fact, but a whole bundle of them. Sadness mixed with joy, hope mixed with this sort of comprehension of cruelty of life

As it often happens on this blog, I was planning to write about my recent trip to Abu Dhabi. But, incidentally, I got distracted and decided I just have to write about this. Especially in light of the Valentine’ day. I know I am a little late, but still. Love is the theme of this month, not Abu Dhabi. Abu Dhabi can wait.

This is a story of an expat love. An expat love has additional complications, as if love wasn’t complicated enough. Few years ago, I watched as a young teenager couple was split up by the fact her family relocated from Qatar. The girl was heartbroken: she was leaving her first ever proper romance behind. But her mother was unphased by it. She will find lots more new boyfriends, she said. And, as she predicted, the girl didn’t wait long. Oh well, I thought as I saw her with a new beau on Facebook, she was too young for any serious relationship anyway. There is plenty of fish in the sea, right? We are not in Romeo and Juliet times, after all. 

Yet, it made me a little sad. How shallow are we? I thought, as I was listening to a divorced family friend going on about his many girlfriends. Why would I settle again? He said. I have too much fun now.

As you get older, you do, undoubtedly, see a lot of shit happen all around you, and of course, can’t help but become more cynical. Or more realistic, you can say. 

And then….this cute story happens. Another teenage couple was torn apart by his family having to move back home. The boy, I must add, is handsome. I am adding this to paint the whole picture properly, as these details matter. Not only is he handsome, he has always had this incredible coolness about him. You see, coolness is even more attractive than good looks. And the problem is, you cannot fake coolness. You can do many things about your appearance- work out, buy nicer clothes, change the shape of your nose. But coolness? Nuh. You are either born with it, or not.

This child….i saw him grow up. And he is cool as fuck.  I told his mother, a friend of mine, that he will one day become a rock star. So, imagine my thoughts when he was heartbroken leaving his first love in Doha. 

Don’t worry, I told his mother. In no time he will have all those local girls back home chasing him. And we are talking western world. A proper western world, where girls are a lot more active. Not a sheltered, well-behaved, over-protected bubble he lived in here. So imagine him, I told my friend, in a new school…. cool as he is, good looking as he is?... Good at sports and music? Come on. I give him a few weeks, no more! He will have forgotten all about his Doha girlfriend. 

Weeks past, then months. My friend texted me to say that the family was struggling with the costs of flights as the boy insisted to come back to Doha for Christmas. And now, he is back to Doha again on a school break. So amazing, I said to my friend. They are still together then? 

Guess what, my friend said, laughing. Recently, it was their anniversarySo, being so far apart, unable to control the world and parents’ jobs and circumstances, they ordered a pizza and ate it together- on Facetime. 

Oh my, I thought. Those guys are properly in love! 

And not only is that by itself, is a beautiful story. I also find the fact that the parents- on both sides, from different cultures and countries, are doing everything in their power to support those kids. They finance their holidays, they allow the visits, they understand their heartbreak. And I just love that. 

Whether we want to or not, our children will get influenced by usUp to a certain age, we are in control of their lives. And we try to teach them all we know: from manners to loving broccoli. And I would imagine that most of you will be pretty good at teaching your kids how to protect themselves. From bullies and jealous friends to strangers and the internet. But what about love? Would you, like these parents in my cute little Facetime pizza story, support your child or would you just dismiss their feelings, tell them there will be plenty more? Because, to me….this is where we create proper human beings. And this is where we teach them that, despite all the shit in the world, love does exist. 





Tuesday, 28 January 2020

8 Years


8 years, Facebook tells me. 8 years is scary long. 
As I was walking around the compound, getting some extra steps in, enjoying the weather, and chatting with my visiting mother, I noticed a young expat woman with a pushchair, by herself. Look, I said to my mom, that’s me 8 years ago, when we just moved to Doha. Walking around, pushing my baby in a pushchair, looking for all those friendly expats I had heard I was going to find. Finding only cats and maids instead. 
So much has since happened, so many things changed! Even the trees they had only just planted when we moved there, are suddenly very tall. 
And my baby girl is 8 years old. 
She doesn’t remember any other home but this villa, in this compound. She is excited about the move. She is choosing her new bedroom and planning new play dates.
And speaking of play dates…Husband is concerned. The new place has a bit of a party reputation. He was secretly hoping there would be a quieter life now that our compound group fell apart. 
As for me, I am torn between feeling excited and sentimental, at the same time. It feels weird moving to a new compound now, after spending all my Doha life in one place. As we looked back, Husband pointed out that this, in fact, was the longest we ever lived in one place. Wow, I thought. That’s true. How is that even possible.
You think of somewhere else as your home, somewhere else as your permanent place. And you think of your expat life as a small chapter of your life story. A temporary phase, which would soon pass. However, some of us end up staying longer than expected, and suddenly this temporary life here becomes your reality. I look back at families I met during these 8 years. Things I learned about other cultures and traditions, other marriages and relationships, other friendships. It is amazing, looking back, how much has happened, how much has changed here, in this temporary location that probably affected us all forever. 
In my mind, I compare expat experience to a war. It may be an unfair comparison, as life here, let’s be honest, is a lot less like a war than the real world back home. But, what I mean is….You know when you watch a film and the main character demonstrates some pretty shitty weird behaviour and blames it on the post-war trauma? Well, I think we, expats, are all like that. You think you can go back and fit right back in, but it just not that easy. You are now different. Changed and will never be the same, as someone said to me recently.  
I know I should not panic about moving to a new compound. First, it is a lovely house and the compound looks great. There are palm trees both in the back AND the front gardens. How about that?
Secondly, change is inevitable. It was always going to happen. And lastly, walking around our old compound without all the familiar faces feels wrong. Too many people left too suddenly, and not necessarily because they wanted to. Every corner has a story, behind every door there are too many memories. Every shortcut witnessed our kids grow up, cats run away, us walking back from all those parties. 
And so… it is time for a change. A small change for me, as my move is nowhere nearly as dramatic as some of my friends’ moves recently have been. And yet, it feels huge, somehow.
Goodbye, my first Doha home. Hope the young mother I saw earlier finds her friends here, just like I found mine. 

Monday, 23 December 2019

Annus Horriblis


So....it is that time of year again. Normally, I love writing about the New Year. Remember the duck one? I still just love that duck one.

But this time, I just want to officially announce 2019 as the crappiest, shittiest year I remember in ages. As the Queen would say, it was an annus horriblis.

I can't wait for this annus to end, I will be honest with you. This 2019 annus has been one of the worst annuses ever.

2019....you have been just a very nasty annus.

I was looking through some party photos from exactly a year ago, one of those memories on Facebook, friends at my house, partying, laughing and dancing....not knowing what a shitty year they were welcoming. Only one year, I thought to myself. Isn't that incredible? Only one year and look at all the changes, all those lives taking a sharp, weird turn.

Cancer, surgeries, divorces, lies, tears, jobs and homes lost, hearts broken. More tears. Disappointment. Pain. Hospitals.
My little world, with my people in it, turned upside down.

And not just my world. Forget my world. Look at the whole world. Look at all that crap 2019 brought us. Sri Lanka church bombing. Christchurch Mosque shooting. Notre Dame. That Ethiopian plane crash. Kaduna state massacre. Truly was a shit year, wasn't it.

I will be honest with you, 2019...you won't be missed much.

So...2019....Halas! as we say in Doha. Enough.

Let's raise a glass to 2020, guys. Let it be better, please! Let it be better than this 2019 annus. I have looked it up, in case you haven't...and it is, according to Chinese Horoscope, a year of Metal Rat.

It is, allegedly, a year of new opportunities and fresh beginnings, finding true love and earning more money. Not bad.

I wish you all a wonderful Christmas, if you celebrate, and a very happy New Year.












Tuesday, 3 December 2019

About Pathways


“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a 🌸 big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of 🌸🌸  fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing 🌸🌸 junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, 🌸-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?”

― John Hodge, Trainspotting: A Screenplay

I have been somewhat busy at work recently. I know, shocking and hard to believe. And due to the nature of the project, I have also been learning an awful lot about clinical stuff. One interesting tool I kept hearing about all week last week was patient pathways. It captured my attention. If you don’t know what I am talking about; and since I now (almost, kind of) do….it is basically an operational tool for making a patient care journey as standardized as possible. 
For example, you have symptoms that point in certain direction, which requires certain type of assessment, then perhaps a few tests, then based on those you get through next steps, then maybe a scan, then something else. Sometimes somewhere nearer to the end of that pathway there is a button called “death”. Is fun. 
And for some reason, thinking about patient pathways in hospitals made me draw a mental parallel with our whole life, in general. Because in live, we, like patients broken down into particular groups, have certain pathways we are expected to follow.
I saw a cool card on Instagram recently. 

My old friend and I had a fascinating discussion the other day. Well, to be honest, this topic is one of the reoccurring ones. You see, we go way back. We were very close friends in university. Now, both of us graduated at the same time and both of us had one thing in common. We weren’t particularly passionate about our profession. That kind of sucks, if you think that you had just gone through 6 years of blood, sweat and tears to get that degree. Imagine, after all that case work and exams, after endless sleepless nights filled with cigarettes and cups of black tea, hands covered in ink, you discover that you really don’t want to do this? Well, this is where our pathways started changing one from another. I knew I didn’t want a job in my profession, so I started thinking of ways to get out of it. I took English classes, and started looking for jobs where I could build on some of the skills I got after all those years, but not be what I was released into the wild to be.

That’s where our lives took completely different turns. And this is the reality of life, isn’t it. All of us, however free we think we might be, have certain pathways written down for us the moment we are conceived. Our future is dictated to a certain degree by where we were born to start with. What sex. What culture. What religion. What set of traditions..and we can try and break the rules written for us, but it isn’t easy.


(Speaking of traditions, I have to share this card too)And so, as I talk- endlessly- with this friend about her unhappiness at the job, I often remind her that she did nothing, absolutely nothing, to change that. Surely, she gets pissed off. WTF was I supposed to do, she says. I am stuck, aren’t I. With that degree, what else could I possibly be doing? Well, I said, Makarevich became a rock star.


I remember dating someone, and one evening we were out for a romantic drink; when, suddenly, I noticed he was staring at a group in the corner of the bar. Despite his usual style, he wasn’t staring at women. He was gazing at a bunch of over-weight, big-bellied, wearing similar clothes construction workers having a pint of beer after work. Are you all right, I asked. Those aren't quite your usual types? 


Look, he said to me. That, over there, is my future. It freaks me out, he said. It terrifies and depresses me. That over there is me!But why, I asked him then. Why does it have to be you? Don’t let it become your future. 


But he was firmly set on his pathway. 


Don’t take me wrong. Pathways are not necessarily bad. In hospital, they save lives. 


I just think, when it comes to happiness, it is actually quite simple. Complex, yet simple. There is only one thing you need to do.  It is all about analyzing the pathway that was set for you, and deciding whether you- and I mean you, not your family, not your friends, not the society or Jesus- are cool with it. You are set on one, like in a hospital. But what I think is very important (and bloody difficult) is to be able to recognize the difference between being happy with the pathway you were set on and thinking that’s the pathway you should be on in order to be happy. 


You are told you belong to a certain religion, you are told you need to own a house, you are told you want children; you should have a mortgage. 90% of the girls in my university dreamed about getting married. Not stopping for a second to think whether that’s the right pathway for them personally. Is having a married status necessary for you to be happy? Does having a big family make you happy? 


And so we go on, and follow our pathway, and play our role in this movie, written for people who are just like us, and therefore, we should conform and follow. But what if?... (and isn’t that the scariest scenario of them all?) What if we follow the stupid pathway, and we tick all the boxes, and we follow all the steps…. until one day we wake up and think "Holy...🌸! I don’t want this?! I want to be a 🌸🌸🌸 pirate! I want to sail and get a parrot and rob other ships!" 


OK, OK. I know. I know robbery is naughty. But what if that is your pathway? What if robbery and a cool swearing parrot is what would make you feel alive, not a house in suburbia and a chocolate Labrador? But by then you are 80, shuffling along that boring pathway in a Zimmer frame. Well, sweetie, by then is too late. 


Choose your pathways, guys. Choose them often, and then again, and change the steps, and re-write what was written. Who knows, you might be a pirate too. Or a rock star like Makarevich.