I’m thinking about heat here in Qatar. I’m thinking about 29 degree early mornings and 40 degree afternoons. Walking out of air conditioned buildings into a heat that shocks – dry, dust-filled mouthfuls of hot unforgiving air. When you open the oven door and the heat slaps you in the face & makes your eyebrows feel they are curling? That sort of heat.
Last Saturday I went full-tourist and rode the brightly coloured hop-on-hop off bus from one end of Doha to the other. I was the only person on the bus to begin with, (so feeling really good about my choices and in no-way conspicuous) As it drove along the gorgeous Corniche, the Gulf mercifully threw a breeze from the sea which was pleasant enough. So I was hot and bothered, but well within my tolerance zone…. then the bus drew into the city and concrete, glass and steel surrounded the little yellow double decker as we stopped for some time at the Central Mall. I began to realise I was slowly boiling….. laughing to myself as I thought of the apocryphal tale of frog-boiling that sometimes gets used in change workshops. The heat and discomfort slowly creeping up on me and I hadn’t noticed. It was only when I went to drink my water and I realised how warm the contents of the bottle was, that I thought: OK.. you are really out of your depth here. You need to go downstairs to the air-conned bit.