Qatar - I. Falcon festival and Camel race

I have promised to my friends to write about Qatar. Three years of unforgettable experience. However, most of the Qatari people, who are very proud of their country rapid economic growth would be disappointed to see that I'd publish more photos of the desert than of the towers on Corniche. In my humble opinion, the uniqueness of the state is in the people, in their bedu tradition mixed with new technologies.
During my time in Qatar I had the chance to meet many interesting personalities and to enter, to some extent, into the Qatari women's life. I find it amazing. The Western prejudice and ignorance would be quite surprised to realize that under the abbaya there are exceptional women with fantastic brain and impressive courage. None of them will appear on the photos of this blog - I cherish too much their friendship and respect their culture to do it, but my dedication goes fully and entirely to them.

Falcon Festival in the desert

Falcons have accompanied the desert people for centuries. It is the only animal that is permitted to travel in the cabin of Qatar Airways, first class included. Young Qatari boys are given a falcon when they are nearly 5. You can buy one from a special market-place near Souq Waquif in Doha. The training is hard and takes months and years. Live birds, like pigeons, are used for everyday meal. Should never forget you train a predator. Falcons never attach to a human; they just come back for food. The Qatar International Falcon festival under the auspices of HH Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al -Thani, the Hair Apparent, takes place once a year.

There was a sand storm at the day of the competition, so we had to cover all our face, eyes, nose etc. Normally, Qatari women don't go to this event. Being a foreigner sometimes is an advantage...

 

The driver Kamal with a kid on his lap and Dani's falcon

Qatari boys staring at another hunting falcon

Sun and sand

Camel race

There are camels for everything - to eat, to travel, to compete. Those you see on the pics are especially trained and nourished for the race. The doll on their back is an electric device with a whip. The owner drives his Toyota Land-Cruiser nearby with the remote control. Small kids used to ride the camels during the race before, but not any longer. The prize for the last year winner was a new Bentley and for the next five participants - BMW X6. The rest of the finalists received "only" Toyotas.

 

 

Start

 

 

the Race

 

 and after...

8 de marzo - día de la Mujer

ЧЕСТИТ 8 МАРТ ! НА ВСИЧКИ МОИ ПРИЯТЕЛКИ !

 

 

A todas las mujeres que trabajan y a las que se han quedado en casa, pero dan lo mejor de su vida a su familia,

 

¡ Feliz Día de la Mujer !

Happy Women's Day !

С праздником !

 

 

And since in each one of us sleeps the rebelion, the "coyote girl", hope you'd like this tune :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1LApPG-vl8

Rahmaninov, Piano Concerto N 2 C minor. My favourite

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AvRfs8IK_s

Rachmaninov created this extraordinary concerto being under therapy. Actually, his name should be pronounced “Rahmaninov”, Серге́й Васи́льевич Рахма́нинов. I still keep at home the special recording with his performance, a gift for my 20-th birthday. My preference for this Russian genius is well known among my friends, but the story of how the recording came to me is worth telling:

My first year in the University, surprisingly for everyone, was dedicated to the Psychology studies. Apart from the basics, like Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, I enjoyed the first touch with some not that popular, though quite relevant scientists like Eric Berne or Sergei Rubinstein. The accumulated knowledge during that remote year helped me later in my life-path, and still does I must admit, when I have to tackle with surreal or openly "up to the edge" human reactions.

Simultaneously to my psych studies, I was preparing my DALF exam. One of the guys in our group happened to be a specialized in hard cases psyquiatrist. For his young age he had seen enough in order to decide to "emigrate" to a remote mountain village and return to the capital just to attend French classes. Another peculiar personality was an extremely beautiful girl from Russian aristocratic family, her grandparents had escaped to Bulgaria after the Revolution in 1917. She was wearing a golden Rolex with the portrait of Kaddafi engraved and was decided to marry a French aristocrat.

So, we formed a ferocious trio - the Blond, the Brunette and the Psych-doctor. Quite bizarre to watch and even worse listening: "Are the psychiatric diseases contagious?" (Positive, according to Jung, BTW); "How an eventual psych-condition would influence the talent exposure of a genius and its relation to the classical music?” or "The Russian poetry and the French political life in the XX century". The psych doctor was in love with the Polish pianist Wanda Landowska. For those not so enlightened musically, she used to perform Bach in original on clavichords. Already dead, of course. Landowska, I mean. Look, even Kaddafi is already dead! The Blond, who finally married a French count, should keep the Rolex in her memorabilia.

To make the long story short, my birthday came exactly a week before the exams, and my two peculiar friends showed up with their gifts - the Kaddafi’s Green Book (must admit, I lost it!)  and the original Rachmaninov recording, with the composer playing his own Concerto N2, dedicated to his therapist. Several years later in Paris, in equally bizarre circumstances, I met the late Bob Marley psych, and oh, wonder! some of his famous songs were also dedicated to his doctor. Seems to be a pattern among the musicians!

What I am trying to say, though not so eloquently, is that Rachmaninov’ music has accompanied me all along my life, like my personal therapy, in happiness and grief. As a red line in a novel, that jumps from the remote morning of my floating serenity in a suite facing the Geneva Lake (Symphony N2) to the afternoon a month ago, when I realized my beloved Grandma was gone (Symphony N3).  Today, looking at myself at the mirror, I still see the person that lives her life with eyes wide open. With no sorrow and no regrets. It’s not a bad account, after all. Being still alive, not only literally speaking…