Qatar World Cup Reflections- Day 6

A light day with no games- the first one in more than two weeks of footballing nirvana (or hell for those who dislike the game!)- saw us head over to Porto Arabia.

But first, a quick reflection on the multi-university campus in Education City that we had seen the previous evening, which included no less than Qatar University, Texas A&M, Georgetown University, Cornell, and Virginia Commonwealth University all forming a massive campus that needed busses to traverse. Aside from the dorms and classroom buildings, it contained a large mosque (not unlike chapels often found in western colleges) as well as the Qatar National Library, both architected in modern style and materials.

In the past, I must say I'd seen such University "franchising" in a negative light, thinking it is best to experience learning in the original location. But overtime, and as education has become globalized, especially post Covid, I am rethinking this position. After all, this is not a new phenomenon. Englishman John Harvard who founded Harvard College in 1636, as one example, was practically an "import" himself from England in 1636. A Cambridge University scholar himself, he bequeathed his wealth and his book volumes to solidify the foundations of what became the first university in the American colonies. More recently, the American University of Beirut founded in 1866 also saw it being imported by American missionaries to the Near East. All this is hardly new, rather it has been tried and tested for centuries. Come to think of it the first ever University in the world was Arab, The University of Al Karaouine in Fez, Morocco founded in 859 AD, almost 250 years before Oxford. Such is knowledge, I suppose, which not unlike water, will inevitably ebb and flow from societies and civilizations that have it, to those hungry for it.

Moving on to Porto Arabia on Pearl Island the next day, was quite a different experience, and one filled with the extravagance the Gulf is renowned for. The man-made island is about 1.5 square KM and connected to the mainland through several bridges. It is one of the first areas within Qatar whose real estate can actually be owned by non-Qataris and most of the residential towers overlook quite a large marina with waterside walkways that zigzag around the island, lined with terracota colored arabesque buildings, fancy stores, restaurants, and family entertainment. Unfinished stores had posters plastered with sayings from Arabian poets and the prophet himself.

While seated outside having lunch at a curiously-named restaurant called Burj Al Hamam (Tower of Pigeons), the sky suddenly turned dark and slight drops of rain could be felt. This part of the world sees more teasing rain than actual rain of course so we stayed seated outside served by a giddy Moroccan waiter still celebrating the previous evening's victory over Spain. He said not to worry about the drops and adjusted the umbrella. He was right, only for us to learn later that there had been a flash tornado not far from where we had been!

Heading back we saw an Arab male sword wielding band performing a traditional Gulf dance, in which there is a singer, several drummers, and folklore clad men standing upright and swaying back and forth. I wondered if the intense heat in the region's history and in order to preserve energy, it had caused dance routines to be so much less dynamic here than other Arab regions famous for much more exerting efforts like belly dancing. Taking a picture with that traditional band with the fancy marina and yachts as a backdrop bordered on the surreal.

Stopping by a traditional tent nearby, an older Qatari lady educated me on the different types of yarn used to weave a tent in the desert. As it turns out, goat yarn is impermeable, whereas its sheep counterpart isn't. The tents are therefore all made of goat yarn and sometimes mixed with cotton on the sides for cooling effect. We were offered an interesting drink of warm milk with rose water, which tasted different from anything I had ever tried.

The day ended with a dinner invitation to a fancy Italian restaurant. As it happens, seated behind us was Alvaro Morata, Spain's star striker, with his young family, who I felt compelled to console, seeing the chap looked miserable. Funny enough, Karim who arrived late to dinner missed him by a mere whisker!