Doha: Day 9, 10, 11 - Dorigo, Discos, Disappearing

So...

Not yet a fortnight and I've fallen behind in my writing. And to think I had (and still do) hoped to become some sort of journalist and columnist. I'd probably be unemployed before my second article, probably immediately after the first, considering my rather poor and consistent flaws and habits, one of which is using too many commas to make sentences too long, causing entire paragraphs to be dominated by only one actual sentence, accompanied by a couple of very short ones if they are lucky, or if I am somewhat distracted.

I hope I don't do that here.

But I guess it's been a rather busy few days here, especially since I've finally been entrusted enough to actually do stuff without having someone peer over my shoulder - much like I've been peering over theirs the previous week - and having my stuff to on air. Did a couple of things I can honestly and humbly say are pretty good, by my standards at least. Still haven't quite done what I do believe is my forte, the more tactical analysis kind of gig, though it does seem that the resident presenters and pundits here do a lot more than most of the ones I've had to work with previously, so even that isn't that much of a task.

Pity, actually.

But can't complain, or at least I won't.

For those wondering, I did eventually go out with the fellas from work the other night, somehow finding myself, hours later, amongst a sea of sweaty bodies in a club in Doha with shoddy air-conditioning. That was not a very fun experience in itself, though generally the night was alright, even if I felt like an outsider. Not that it was the fault of anyone other than me, but that's probably going to be the last time in a long time I get dragged to one of those things.

Tony Dorigo was there, of course, and Mido.

Yup, Mido.

Scandalous and controversial retired footballers aside, I managed to slip away as soon as I could, hearing the next day of how some of the others found themselves getting closely acquainted with rapidly-filling toilet bowls as they found the limits to their alcohol intake.

So here I sit, alone in my room, as most of my colleagues are in the process of getting smashed in the bar downstairs. Still unsure if this puts me in a negative light; pub culture is a big thing, after all, if what I've read and watched is to be believed, but really I don't ever see myself getting involved in that. Not even on religious grounds, as those who know me well will scoff at, but just...

Meh.

More than a week here now, of course. There's a familiar routine developing, in some ways, though with what has happened (and to a larger extent, not happened), that may very well change very quickly very soon. In the meantime though, making do with what I can and what I have, munching on a simple sandwich while watching random TV shows. Did my first load of laundry, getting the bank account sorted, now just need to get a place to stay and some actual cash money.

No problem there, right?

Doha: Day 7 & 8 - Dissonant Delays

Missed a day, hence the title, though I suspect and expect that all my loyal readers, followers, fans and underlings have been craving for yet another update from the lone Singaporean in the team in Doha. Not really, no. But I'm going to give it to you anyway.

A strange mixed weird different couple of days, with yesterday (Wednesday) being the single most frustrating one since I landed, even more so that the first morning where I was called in to an empty building and made to look like an idiot while the person who said he'd sort it packed up and went for lunch.

Turns out I've got another Visa issue, which in reality is no surprise considering not-so-distant history. Looks like the jibes about finally going somewhere where I of all people won't have a problem with immigration is total and utter bollocks. Long story short, I was not issued a business visa, and until that actually happens other paperwork (and salary matters) won't be processed.

Raged about that for enough yesterday, along with other things that happened to further aggravate the heck out of me, and went to bed angered, frustrated, regretful.

But then i got up today to a message from someone that did cheer me up, and again reminded me that despite all the rubbish, there's more than a tad of positivity to be had.

Plus work today went alright.

Actually did something meaningful that's going to be on the show, out on air to many places on the weekend, though as usual Singapore won't see it. I bet there are folks back home who think I'm making my work up. I wish. But then I must say I'm pretty happy with what was churned out, even if it was heavily based on someone else's work.

Sitting now in the room, about half an hour away from a call from said colleague to go to some bar or pub or - heaven-forbid -  club. The last time I spent any meaningful time in a club (bar a flea market at Zouk) was literally half a decade ago, and really that went tremendously horribly and hilariously well at the same time. Not actually looking for that again any time soon, if ever.

But most everyone is going, and I do want to get to know the people who I'm going to be seeing almost every day for the foreseeable and considerable future. Peer pressure? Perhaps. Sigh.

Also, I have found that I'm saying "mate" a lot.

Doha: Day 6 - Distinct Dispositions

Another long day today, made longer by the "meeting" we had with a representative from the HR department, a tudungster who did more to enrage than enlighten, her words revealing if her attire was not; sending everyone away fidgety and fuming. At least it helped bring everyone together, if nothing else.

If it wasn't already apparent, everyone who had been recently recruited had been told different things regarding different things, with matters like insurance, travel allowance, visas, accommodation, salary, and flight tickets all confusing the lot of us. Some have already been explained, others are still up in the air, though almost every answer (or non-answer) infuriated those present, with certain things blatantly contradictory to what some had been led to believe, with the flimsy shield of "government policy" the only thing tossed back at us.

But at least I felt like I did more today, though that's not saying much. Most days so far I feel like a sheepish onlooker trying not to get in the way of people obviously well able to do their things, like a lifeguard at a kiddie pool where parental guidance is mandatory. Not that I am making sure people stay alive, far from it. I'm just watching and observing (here is where the analogy is not totally accurate, lest a pedo accusation is laid down), trying to pick up the basic skills and jargon and routines that the vast majority of my colleagues are already familiar with.

I do miss home though, with my mom sending me a picture of Kaera lounging on furniture. I hope she's doing well. Mom too. She mentioned how she kept hearing me cough, which suggests either she misses me a lot, or there is a sick poltergeist back in Kembangan. I didn't even realize I coughed a lot.

People always say they miss the food, the weather, other things from where they came from, and while I do understand that I don't actually miss a lot of it that much, save perhaps for the public transport system in Singapore, and the fact things get done when you hope they do.

A lot has been done, gotten done, and needs to be done, in many ways. Here, back home, in the office, other places. A brave girl told me today to keep going, keep at it, reminding me of things I shouldn't have to be reminded about even as she was overwhelmed with things.

Not sure how many of you are fans of The Simpsons, but after so many admittedly craptacular seasons, one scene sticks out in my mind after today, "And Maggie Makes Three".

Yup.

Doha: Day 5 - Diving Days

Strange day today, though that's true of every one since I've landed in the Middle East.

No rush to get anywhere, being the day off for the week, and yet I got up much earlier than expected. Decided then to take a swim, doing as many laps as I could before the shoulder started to act up. Nowhere near Michael Phelps, of course, but kinda pleased regardless.

Then to breakfast, where the team of Indonesians have taken a particular interest in chatting me up since discovering I'm able to join in in their conversations. I haven't spoken this much Malay or Bahasa over the span of a few days since the days I was in Secondary School.

Back to the room then, to start to seriously look at properties to live in once the time at the Marriott is up. Found a few decent places, including the one suggested by a colleague to share, which may just be the best bet. Still, fairly pleased that I managed to find a couple of options that were both within budget and not stupidly far from the office, and got called by two agents who promised to get back to me with a list of potential places to view next week.

Everything's moving both really quickly and still too slowly for my liking, so I decided to take some time and go... grocery shopping.

Yup.

Didn't actually buy much though, just some supplies to keep me alive when I'm too tired/lazy/nonplussed to grab dinner after a long day of (non?) work. Good news? Nothing is more expensive than it is in Singapore. Bad news? Nothing is cheaper than it is in Singapore. Worse news? No Peanut Butter Cup Ben & Jerry's.

Maybe I can go for another swim tomorrow, though I first need to find out what time I'm actually expected in the office.

Doha: Day 4 - Dessert Dilemma

I was going to say that this was the end of the weekend, but then realized how irrelevant that statement was, considering the term only really referred to the conventional work-week that isn't practiced here, and that my work schedule would make that definition null and void regardless of geographic location.

Still, it feels pretty significant. First Premier League weekend done and dusted - Monday night notwithstanding - and it's been a real eye-opener.

Moving forward I recognize there's a lot I can and need to do to put myself in a better position than I am now, something that three people have pointed out to me in various ways. I'm annoyed at myself for not contributing as much as I want, even if the colleagues I've spoken to assure me that it's fine. Those same ones are also the ones who have suggested how to alleviate that aggravation, of course, and I hope I get "stuck in" as one put it.

Also had my first ice-cream since moving here, a small scoop of supposed Kinder gelato, though it didn't really taste like it and perhaps I was better off picking the white chocolate instead. Still, pretty decent, though I'm told that the hotel's selection of dessert is even better.

As is its humus.

No, I am not going to develop a palate for humus.

But then development is the name of the game, as it were, and really why I'm out here, right? There is the obvious monetary benefits, but as cliche and sappy and cheesy as it sounds, I'd hope that only a ludicrous, Gareth Bale-ish offer would be enough to tempt me away from my loved ones on that basis alone.

Develop then, and get stuck in. Maybe even try that new ice cream.

Doha: Day 3 - Damn Drogba

So Day 3 dawned with another searing morning that promised an even more scorching midday. Roused earlier than I expected, I decided to have a quiet breakfast on my own before going back to the room for a bit of not-so-legal Game of Thrones action, but before I could start it up, I got a call telling me about a meeting with some of the big guns from Qatar. In less than an hour.

Uh oh.

So I pulled a Keanu and rushed (rushed), meeting a bunch of colleagues to taxi to work, where everyone was already there, mostly. Of course, the meeting never materialized, and I continued the previous days' work of following the other fellas who had all come together from ITV do their thing, and tried to not get in the way.

A bit later though, I was given a Task.

Asked to help a gal I had met the day before with putting together a piece about Roman Abramovich, plotting a sort of timeline and montage of all Chelsea had achieved since he has pumped his billions into Stamford Bridge. Not too difficult, though made all the more challenging when you consider we have little to no Premier League footage (for now) and have to look for an ingest the tapes (old-school) of each game where they had won something in the last decade or so.

Drogba, Drogba, Drogba.

Holy crap.

That aside, it was the big kick-off for the Premier League, and Arsenal losing is always fun (though that colleague is a die-hard Gunner), and United won easily as well. Not so easy for me in the studio/gallery, trying to find my place and a place where I might be useful while not stepping on any toes.

Hard.

Not to say i don't get what's going on, far from it. A lot is similar to what happened at ESPN Star Sports, and later Fox (even the screw-ups), though some things are slightly different. Problem I can forsee is that in the gallery itself, there is already at least one person doing what it is I normally do, and while that's fine, for now I'm not nearly able to do anything else because I still don't really know how to use Avid, coming from a rough FCP background. The people I've spoken to have said they understand I need time to adjust and acclimatize to new systems, workflows, and people, which I do. But I am personally annoyed and aggravated that I'm unable to contribute significantly, watching everyone else go about, sometimes struggling with their workload.

Time to batten down the hatches then, and make things work. Eventually.

Also, bit of trivia for football fans. Without looking it up, who scored the last goal for Chelsea in the 2005 League Cup Final against Liverpool?

Enjoy.

Doha: Day 2 - Decoding Dinner

Strange one, today.

It all started (after a rather good breakfast buffet) with an eventful trip to a hospital with a few colleagues to get our blood type checked as part of the immigration/recruitment process for new employees in Qatar. Pretty straightforward, I thought, if a bit redundant as Singaporeans are all aware (or should be aware) of theirs before puberty has run its course, having fingers pricked by nurses in wh -

The hospital looked like a hotel.

What?

Seriously. We walked through sliding glass doors, past the red and gold trolley-things for bags, into a marble concourse complete with a large water feature, plants and walkways hanging from the perimeter. Once we located - or were directed to - the reception, we sat ourselves down in what one called "emperor chairs", soft and plush and flanked by mirrors with carved frames, only just noticing a sign that pointed out where the laundromat was.

And the smell of strawberry ice-cream wafted through this surreal hospital-hotel.

Then the reminder that we were still in Doha, as it took about an hour before we managed to get things done, during which I was almost charged 500 QR for the blood type test, another colleague was close to being hooked up to a dialysis machine, and an impromptu lesson about blood groups.

Finally, to the office, where I felt I was only slightly less useless today! Pulled a Micah and somehow managed to figure out the workings of a machine I had never actually touched before, all Hero-like. And uncovered a button in Avid. Small victories, I know.

Bit more chat, including with a boss that looked like he was already strained, and getting to know the people I'll be working with for the foreseeable future, punctuated by walking about a workplace that reminded one of an airport and seeing a cute cat. Then it was back to the hotel, where a Nando's dinner with those said colleagues never materialized as I was called to dine with the sister's boyfriend sister and her husband. Yup.

The pasta wasn't anything to write home about (though in a way i'm doing that now), but the company and talking was rather nice. Not being sappy or nostalgic of course, but it was nice that people I barely knew seemed to be genuinely happy to help with things, taking time out of their own schedules.

They even told me where to get nasi padang and laksa! I don't even like laksa!

But after handing over the veritable chest of sambal tumis, it's time for bed, and it is looking like a long day tomorrow.

All kicks off.

Doha: Day 1 - Desert Dance

Exciting, isn't it, the opportunity to work in a faraway land with a new company that's a big upgrade both in terms of salary and prestige? That's what most people said it would be, asked if I felt for weeks, if not months, leading up to this move.

Not exactly how I felt though.

Not even talking about the entire having to leave loved ones behind deal, but just... I never saw the general glamour of it. Sure, the whole expat package is a spiffy deal, but... is it really worth it?

The flight was fine, and I actually got moved to a better seat (leg room, woo!) after take-off. I've never seen such a collection of movies I wanted to watch, but the Qatar Airways audio system leaves much to be desired, and so I didn't get to finish The Prestige. Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park were still as awesome as I remembered, of course.

The heat hits you, and it's not just a phrase. Even forewarned, I was shocked at it. Those who know me know I've never been a fan of higher temperatures, and this was by far the worst heat I've experienced in my life, worse than anything. But the lack of humidity was the saving grace, the very arid, dry, silver lining.

Then the trouble began.

I had come with the belief that there would be a dedicated driver to help me get around and get settled for the first two weeks in Qatar, and this wasn't out of some inflated sense of self-worth, but because I had been told as much by HR, a detail that had calmed my nerves (somewhat). The driver who did pick me up from the airport, and Ethiopian named Ismail, was friendly, informative, funny. Said he'd be around to help me for two weeks, yes.

Then he was gone.

And so was HR.

Let me put this into context. If you work in the HR department for a large, multinational corporation, and are in the midst of a massive recruitment and project launch, I would think it's a good idea to actually do your job. Answer questions, make arrangements, and please please PLEASE don't NOT be in the office.

Because that's what I had to deal with.

Being asked - told - to arrive in Doha on Thursday so I could sort out HR and paperwork before the Friday-Saturday-Sunday rush of European football. Which I understand, and so I acceded to the request/order and made my way as you can tell.

HR is not around.

I'm not even talking about being out for lunch here. The entire department is on leave. When they have specifically told people to come during this period and to look for them.

What. The.

The people who were in the office weren't much better either, one going so far as to tell me he was going to call someone for me, and then running into a car and driving off to lunch, leaving me stranded.

Eventually, after personally pestering my Boss, I got to where some others were, and thrust myself into the madhouse of chaos that is Al Jazeera Sport, where half the team is not yet arrived in Doha, and half the people there haven't even signed a contract yet (again, AWOL HR), and no-one is sure what it is that needs to be done and/or how to do it.

Still, managed to get a show out last night, which went well, with (in)famous faces at the helm.

Back in the hotel now. And while it is a fancy one, comfortable and with all the amenities that any traveller would need and ask for, I look back to my flight here and wonder about it, if it's all worth it.

Because I didn't really get the prestige.