Festival of the Sacrifice

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I’m sitting in Sharjah airport as I write this, awaiting my Saturday afternoon flight. After booking flights for an Eid holiday week in Dubai and screwing up the flight times, I found that I'd not be flying out on Saturday evening, but instead would spend all afternoon devoting myself to air travel.

After booking my non-refundable, non-changeable-without-enormous fees flights, the official Eid holiday dates were all postponed by a day, resulting in the glorious prospect of spending all Sunday in Cloud City because everything in Doha will be shut.

Much was achieved during my week in Dubai:

• Beloved Wife and I selected a new dishwasher to replace the dead one. Carrefour sold us one for Dh1800 and phoned a day later to say that it was out of stock, they wouldn’t have any more, no we couldn’t have the display item, and would we like to come back and select a more expensive one? This blatant attempt at bait-and-switch resulted in a refund and our money being directed to a different store. The man came to install the new machine, but the van broke down and he was three hours late. He contrived to drop some hardware down the outlet, and I insisted that we get it out. He wanted me to call a plumber at my expense, but I was having none of this. Eventually we managed to wash the thing down to the floor gully and recover it through use of a garden hose and water pressure. As this is how I unblocked the pipe before; déjà vu all over again. 

• We got Beloved Wife's car in for service. It turns out that the appalling shrieking noises were not coming from the belt tensioner pulley bearing after all, but the PCV. This is a piece of cheap plastic shit that is notorious for becoming broken on VW engines, but the Sharjah branch of Volkswagen lacked the wit or inclination either to stock the part or phone the Dubai branch. Earlier today I phoned Dubai, collected new PCV, and had the mechanic install it in about ten minutes. All shrieking has now gone and the Eos can safely be presented next week for its annual inspection and registration. 

• I installed the new battery in the bike, started it on the first prod of the button, and went off first to get the thing washed and then inspected and registered. Beloved Wife had sorted out the insurance, so all I had to do was phone AXA to get a new certificate that stated Oman was an included territory; not just the UAE. 

• The runaround for my new UAE residence was likely to take all day. It had to be accomplished entirely before Eid, so the Executive Service had to be invoked. A trip to Al Wasl clinic and Dh790 got me a blood test, then across town and a further Dh370 for a new ID card application and Dh555 for a new residence permit. Then back to Al Wasl to collect my blood test result. My blood group hasn’t changed, as eny fule kno. I am so glad I took the bike for this running around town in the traffic. No problem parking, see? Also few issued with traffic congestion. Everything was done by 1330, and I handed in my passport to Beloved Wife’s PRO. I got it back with the new visa the following morning. I now await the delivery of my new Emirates ID card in due course. 

• I went to the airport to renew my UAE e-gate card. As there is exactly zero free parking at DXB, even for motorbikes, I parked for nuppence at Rashidiya and took the metro two stops. 

• Other errands included getting de-worming pills for the cats in order to stop the vet from bombarding me with reminder emails, Beloved Wife and me obtaining lacerations while inserting said pills into said cats, more pills for me which are not for removing parasites, and a new button battery for the bike's keyless start system. Any and all attempts to purchase additional pairs of Vibram™ hobbit feet failed. They're all knocked down to about 25% of the normal retail price, and of course my size has completely sold out. 

• I braved IKEA, then spent a couple of hours balancing on a stepladder – it isn’t a real ladder – replacing burned-out lightbulbs all over the Crumbling Villa including the one at the top of the stairs that involved standing on the very top rung. It doesn’t matter that the halogens are rated for thousands of hours. I suspect wobbly voltage kills them. Anyhoo, IKEA only had LED globes, which have dropped remarkably in price over the last year or so. It remains to be seen if they last longer. 

• There was shopping and cooking, epic binge-watching of Game of Thrones, and consumption of moderate quantities of special beverage and flat-nosed, curly-tailed haraminal. There was nothing on at any Dubai cinema that appealed, so that was a bust. 

• On Friday, I slipped into my old paths of wrongtiousness with a high-speed ride over to Kalba for an egg sandwich. I rode alone, noted the presence of new speed cameras near Wadi Hilo, chatted with members of the Ducati club in Kalba, and then got comprehensively blown into the weeds on the way back to Dubai. Call me slow and old-fashioned if you like, but if the speed limit is 120km/h and I'm just below the speed camera trigger of 140, the guys who whizzed past me at perhaps 200 must have plenty of disposable income. I am a bit out of practice; I frightened myself a couple of times on some very, very bendy road between Hatta and Munay. Must. Not. Brake. In. Corners. Next time I’m back in Dubai I should replace the bike’s tyres. The Pirellis still have reasonable tread, but they’ve been cooking outdoors all summer. I have some new Michelins poised and ready. 

• Finally, I accompanied Beloved Wife to a dead posh dinner out at the Dusit Thani in Dubai (the hotel near Defence Roundabout that looks like a clothes peg), and very fine it was too. 

Putting the events into writing, it doesn’t seem like I achieved much, but I kept busy and my mood has lifted somewhat. I might even be able to face another week back at work.

]}:-{>

Red tape

Following about nine iterations of a design report (and its many friends), wherein American design standards were specified where Dunkrugerstan standards were inapplicable or inappropriate, the Minister of Paper Clips decided that reference to these American standards would not be allowed. The Minister of Paper Clips had previously specified in the contract that American standards should be adopted, but this was no longer relevant.

Instead, the Trusted Advisor was required to use Dunkrugerstan standards. Where this would not be achievable, alternative international standards could be proposed, but citing any of these would not be allowed.

The Trusted Advisor was therefore required to prove all of his alternative designs from first principles. As most of the research had been originally carried out in America, these figures could not be used, and no local research had ever been undertaken throughout the history of Dunkrugerstan. 

Thus the task now set by the Ministry of Paper Clips was actually impossible, and there was nothing for it but to go to the Minister for Streets and request that he ask the Minister for Houses to demolish a newly-built palace owned by the Grand Frommaj.

Fearful of one of the Grand Frommaj’s infamous rages, the Minister for Houses absolutely refused. The Minister for Streets therefore also refused, and the Trusted Advisor was thus unable to complete his project.

So when the most famous Grand Tournament in the world arrived and the project lay incomplete, the international press ridiculed Dunkrugerstan. Naturally, the Grand Frommaj blamed the entire Council of Ministers, who blamed one another, but mostly blamed the Trusted Advisor. But who was to blame was of no consequence to the international press, who only saw that the project was unfinished and that Dunkrugerstan was to blame.

]}:-{>

Time for the signs

Meanwhile, in Dunkrugerstan, the Ministry of Paperclips decreed that all of the billboards to be erected alongside the new main street would be made of finest English hardwoods, lovingly helicoptered from the Forest of Dean, cosseted in bubble wrap, bolted together with bronze bolts, and protected from the elements by multiple coats of "Does-What-It-Says-On-The-Tin" Cuprinol. The Minister was very specific. He wanted a classic look, and none of this post-modern neo-brutal rubbish.

The Directorate of Rubber Stamps disagreed, citing the Grand Frommaj's decree that Dunkrugerstan should be modern yet traditional, and the Director had decided that the "modern" part was of greater relevance. The Director demanded chromed steel lattices, polished to a mirror finish, and with 18/8 stainless steel bolts.

Both the Minister and Director were consulted by one of the Grand Frommaj's Trusted Advisors, who pointed out that the Taste Police Superintendent had separately required that all the billboards along the entire street should be of the same type. Yet the Minister of Paperclips and the Director of Rubber Stamps refused to meet with each other, or with the Trusted Advisor, or even with the Superintendent.

So the Trusted Advisor had his people design some of the billboards in chromed steel and obtained approval from the Directorate of Rubber Stamps. He designed the remainder in timber, and had these approved by the Ministry of Paperclips. Everybody was happy.

By the time the billboards were actually ordered, imported, and erected, the Trusted Advisor had long since departed from Dunkrugerstan. Which was just as well, for when the Superintendent of the Taste Police was justifiably appalled at the resulting unholy mishmash of styles, both the Minister and the Director each blamed the Trusted Advisor for failing to convince the other.

]}:-{>

Déjà vu all over again

When I resigned and left Qatar in 2012, the arseh- crazy people I worked for said that they'd provide an NOC: a letter confirming no objection to my changing sponsorship to work for someone else in Qatar. As this promise eventually turned into a statement to the effect that "We told you we wouldn't give you an NOC," I was banned from working in Qatar for two years.

Welcome to 2014, and here I am back again. I'm working for a different firm and in a senior position, so hopefully I'm in a position to avoid a repeat of the previous unpleasantness.

The rest of the situation is eerily familiar:-

• Beloved Wife can't join me for a year because of the enormously long lead times for teachers;

• I have a motor vehicle (two actually) in Dubai that can't be imported to Qatar because of an arbitrary rule that says you can't import anything that's more than five years old;

• I'm living in a furnished apartment, probably for a year.

However, this time there are some significant differences:-

• My apartment is within walking distance of work, so the nightmare commute across Doha is neatly avoided;

• The said apartment is a hotel apartment, so someone comes in and cleans it twice a week, bed linen and towels are provided, and all utilities including internet are included;

• I have several very old friends in town so I'll not be BillyGoat NoMates;

• I don't have a boss who stands in the middle of the cube farm and screams about how everyone is incompetent.

Being a hotel, the place has a 50m pool, gym, Kwik-e-Mart, numerous restaurants, and also 24-hour room service. Now my complaints have been answered the fridge actually makes ice, there's a proper cooker instead of an electric camping stove, and the washing machine works. I think I shall avail myself of the on-site laundry to get my ironing done by professionals who are better at it than I. As I'm right at the top of the building I even have a view. It would be better without another tower in front of me, but how much time does one spend looking out of the window?

I rented the cheapest 4x4 I could find because a Nissan Sunny won't get to the Inland Sea loaded with dive kit, and I'm investigating devious but legal methods of getting my motor vehicles from the UAE to Qatar. The Kawasaki dealer reckons that I can import my motorbike (again) because the fatuous five-year rule only applies to cars, and it isn't a car. However, when I tried that suggestion at the traffic police I got the same sort of look that sprouting antennae might have achieved. I could perhaps drive around on Dubai plates but, despite there being prima facie evidence that this is possible (vehicles with non-Qatar plates in Doha), my previous attempts to get this to happen have stopped with some wag at the Saudi consulate telling me that this is "imbossible."

Meanwhile I'm entertaining the prospect of buying another motorbike, but until I get my Residence Permit this is also imbossible.

I guess I'll have to go back to Dubai every couple of weeks and get by motorcycle fix in the UAE. The roads are better there, actually. In the mountains there are actual bends.

]}:-{>

Avez-vous un permis pour ce chèvre?

Beloved Wife, who’s lived in the UAE longer than the Goat, went through the rigmarole of renewing her driving licence a couple of years ago. It’s a ritual every driver in the UAE will experience every ten years. It was the Goat’s turn recently, and Beloved Wife assured him that the procedure was a doddle. His licence was going to expire in August 2013. As he now has a Dubai residence visa, he turned to the Roads and Transport Authority in Dubai, even though his old licence was issued in Sharjah. Driving licences are now administered at a federal level, which means in practice that the licence retains a record of which emirate first issued it, but it can be renewed anywhere. This is the UNITED Arab Emirates, after all.

Here, then, is what happened to the Goat, offered here as a sort of public service. Useful information is shown in Bold, and lies irrelevant and superfluous items are indicated by Italics.

The Goat first went to one of the RTA-approved opticians for his eye test. He had to produce:-

Passport

Residence Visa

ID card

One recent mugshot

AED150 (The Goat later learned that Sharjah does the eye test at the Traffic Police for nuppence)

He was then advised by the optician that he had to go to the RTA office roughly opposite Dubai airport Terminal 2, and no other.

At the said RTA office, the Goat was given a letter for Sharjah Traffic Police.

Sharjah Traffic Police would provide an NOC to transfer the licence details to Dubai. Having got this NOC, the Goat should bring it to Dubai RTA with:-

Passport copy (Why?)

Residence visa copy (Why?)

ID card copy (Isn't this supposed to eliminate the need to produce the passport and visa at every encounter with Officialdom? And isn't the chip in the card supposed to eliminate the need for a photocopy? Apparently not.)

Eye test certificate

Original driving licence

Driving licence copy

Letter of No Objection from the Goat’s sponsor (Beloved Wife)

Sponsor’s passport copy

Sponsor’s visa copy

Sponsor’s ID card copy

So off the Goat trotted to Sharjah Traffic Police where, because the time was by then 13h10 and it’s Ramadan, he was told to come back tomorrow with:-

Passport copy

Residence visa copy

ID card copy

Driving licence

Driving licence copy

Mugshot

AED200

The following morning, the Goat eventually found a parking space in the mayhem that is the parking outside the Sharjah Traffic Police office. He queued for over an hour, and was then told that the computer system was down, and to come back tomorrow. He asked for the NOC letter so that he could do the licensing process in Dubai, and thereby avoid yet another trip to Sharjah. The Traffic Police refused, first because the system was down, and then because the NOC is not required; it’s possible to renew a driving licence in any emirate.

The Goat returned to the RTA where it was confirmed that the system was indeed down. But he also learned from the RTA - the same office; indeed the same desk where he’d been spun this dit about having to go to Sharjah - that licence renewal did not require an NOC from Sharjah. It could be renewed in Dubai at pretty much any RTA office.

Another day passed, and the Goat chose to park in the shade at Rashidiya metro station and to take the train one stop to the RTA’s quiet and civilised Umm Ramool office. He produced:-

Passport copy

Residence visa copy
ID card copy

Driving licence copy

Original driving licence

Eye test certificate

Mugshot

AED540 (Because that’s what Sharjah charges, and it’s gotta be cash)

And behold: a new UAE driving licence! Job done for another ten years.

So the process is indeed a doddle, once the fictional elements have been removed.

]}:-{>

Boats boats boats boats bobbing up and down again

The principle of having to obtain some sort of certificate of competence before being allowed out with a motor vehicle is a sound one. Imagine the chaos if anyone with access to a car could simply leap in and drive it without any tuition.

This lack of compulsory training has been the norm for boats since forever, although various agencies have introduced voluntary schemes over the years. The Goat passed his BSAC Diver Coxswain exam many moons ago, which gave him an instant Powerboat 2 certificate from the Royal Yachting Association. He subsequently qualified as a Diver Coxswain Instructor and Examiner.

Here’s the thing. As of yesterday, the Goat learned from the local media that Dubai has introduced a ‘Boat Driving Licence’. It is now not permitted to take any form of powered craft on to Dubai’s waters without the ‘driver’ being in possession of this driving licence. Jet-ski pilots are apparently exempt.

The Goat spent a happy hour searching Los Interwebs for information relating to this ‘boat driving licence’. He found these:

https://plus.ibinews.com/article/rarVzGvRhQI/2013/03/07/dubai_introduces_marine_driving_licence/?nsl=XWlHRrznQvs1

This one says the new licence is the first step in regulation of jet-ski usage. Which is a bit odd, given that Dubai Eye 103.8 said jet-skis were exempt… The Goat missed this one when it was published in March, but it's not like there's been much ‘Get Your Boat Driving Licence’ publicity over the subsequent three months. Perhaps the Goat should spend more time hanging around the docks. 

http://www.emirates247.com/news/emirates/new-marine-driver-s-license-required-in-dubai-2013-06-19-1.510976

Neither one spells out the requirements; nor does the Dubai Maritime City website. The Goat phoned DMCA and learned that there were indeed no rules, regulations, or requirements for the new licence posted on the website. He suggested that posting something appropriate might prevent DMCA’s telephone helpline from being overwhelmed by concerned boat owners.

As a public service, here is the list of DMCA requirements before a boat owner is permitted to set the iron topsail:-

·        The application form, obtainable from Dubai Maritime City.
·        One colour mugshot.
·        Copy of passport, residence visa, and ID card (because the ID card alone isn’t sufficient).
·        A certificate of fitness, obtained from the Ministry of Health.
·        A police Good Conduct certificate.
·        Evidence of training. A RYA Powerboat certificate is seemingly enough, but a list of suitable qualifications is not currently available.
·        AED600 fee.

The Goat asked how long the licence is valid, but Mr Helpdesk didn’t know. He’ll phone back in a few days, he said.

It seems to the Goat that this is a monstrous pile of fuss and palaver to be foisted on the maritime community at, apparently, one day’s notice. It may be that, once the Clarification is issued, it’ll only apply to commercial outfits and not Joe Public and his water-ski speedboat, nor the local dive club.

Another point of concern that falls way off the edge of the map is what befalls all the qualified BSAC boat handlers. Do they now all have to lash out AED600 and jump through the above list of hoops? Or will they simply limit their boating to Fujairah?

]}:-{>

Cui bono?

International and emirate borders across the UAE exhibit a strange and wacky arrangement. It’s largely the fault of the pesky meddling British who, way back in the days of the Trucial States, sought to establish once and for all the limits of each tribe’s influence. Teams of squaddies toured the region and interviewed each tribal leader, wali, with one fundamental question: “To which sheikh do you owe allegiance?”

The teams went back to headquarters and presumably stuck coloured pins in a huge map. Then someone drew borders between areas of different colours, picking mountain ridges or other geographical features where nobody lived, so that the situation of “But I live exactly on the border between…” should never arise.

And that’s why there’s Nahwa, an enclave of Sharjah, UAE completely surrounded by a doughnut-shaped exclave of Oman which is, in turn, surrounded by Sharjah, Fujairah, and Ras Al Khaimah all of the UAE. The northernmost tip of the Musandam peninsula is an enclave of Oman, only accessible by land via the UAE.

This brief geopolitical lesson goes some way to explaining the strange arrangement over at the towns of Dibba in the north east corner of the UAE. Dibba Al Fujairah is the southernmost of three Dibbas; Dibba Al Baya in Oman is just over the border and represents a gateway to the Musandam. Sandwiched between the two is Dibba Al Hisn, which is part of the Sharjah emirate. There have been various border disputes among the Dibbas, but Wikipedia (source of all true knowledge and wisdom) asserts that these were resolved in the 1990s.

And now:this! Women who wish to travel to Dibba Al Baya must, it has been decreed, obtain written permission in advance from a male relative or employer before they’re allowed to cross the border. That’s women who don’t hold GCC passports or UAE tourist visas. The latter can continue to do what blokes do and simply show up at the border with a passport and/or Emirates ID card. (Whether you need one, the other, or both depends on the border guard). Apparently you sometimes need evidence of a hotel or dhow trip booking before the Omanis will let you in.

But this new inconvenience has been brought to you by the Government of Sharjah. It’s impossible to get to the border post without crossing Sharjah territory, and the whole thing looks like being inconvenient for shits and grins. It can’t be for morality reasons because guys, GCC passport holders, and tourists aren’t affected, and the border crossing isn’t being upgraded to a full ‘You are now leaving the UAE and entering Oman’ with visas and passport stamps.

What is probably nearer the mark is the tourist trade. Dibba Al Baya is the base for lots of diving and sightseeing dhow trips up the Musandam. Presumably the plan goes something like this: if getting a hair’s breadth over the border involves an unreasonable pile of paperwork, tourists will instead choose to use dhows based at Dibba Al Hisn. And they’ll drive up the night before and stay in a dry Sharjah hotel instead of a Fujairah or Oman one where ‘special refreshments’ are available.

The linked article from The National says that the Omani ministry of tourism was not available for comment. Curiously, the same story picked up by Explorer says that the new rule is Sharjah’s doing.

I wonder how long it’ll be before the Omanis come to some arrangement with Fujairah and simply pick up their divers at Dibba Al Fujairah?

]}:-{>

Suggestion box

Gary Larsen - The Far Side

Since September, I have been undertaking the Identity Card Experience, and I still don’t have one. Well, I do, but it expired last July and when I started the Experience, the nice man at the typing centre punched a hole through the chip and rendered the old card useless.

In order to prevent anyone from falling through the cracks and not getting an ID card, the current procedure is to apply for the card before obtaining a Residence Visa. In fact, Residence cannot be confirmed until proof is supplied that the resident has applied for an ID card. The ID card application is automatically rejected because there’s no residence visa on file. Then, once the visa is in the passport, the applicant goes back to the same typing centre where the original application was made, a scanned copy of the visa is put on file, and the ID card arrives within two weeks.

Based on my experience, I have a couple of suggestions that might make this simple process even more of a pleasure:-

If there is a problem with the application, such as the passport and visa serial numbers held by the Identity Authority not matching those held by the Immigration Department, the applicant should be contacted and advised. It is not helpful simply to tell the applicant that his card will be delivered within two weeks, and then to repeat this lie for three months.

The Identity Authority should ensure that if the applicant is told that someone will speak to him by telephone within a week, then that phone call should be made. Cancelling the entire application two days later “for not performing the required modification within the communicated deadline” is not the way to ensure customer satisfaction. Particularly when no required modification nor deadline were communicated.

One of the reasons why it takes five hours of waiting at the Identity Authority office to learn that the problem lies with the Immigration Department is that up to thirteen of the sixteen available desks are unoccupied. Employees working at the occupied desks should serve customers and not stare vacuously into space, nor fiddle with their bottles of antiseptic hand lotion for ten minutes between each customer.

Someone at the Immigration Department has to type the new passport and visa details into a computer in order to produce the printed sticker that goes into the applicant’s passport. It would be helpful, then, that these records are proliferated across the Immigration Department and Identity Authority’s computers so that out-of-date information doesn’t frustrate the ID card application process.

There is little point in the Immigration Department opening at 0700 if the computers don’t come on line until 0800. The servers are presumably working continuously to process people entering and leaving the country at any time, and it isn’t really rocket surgery to provide Immigration officials access to the database whenever they’re at work serving customers. Whoever pays the Immigration Department salaries would surely appreciate not paying for an hour of non-productive time every day for every employee.

Is it really necessary for updates of Immigration records to be undertaken not at the Immigration Department but at a separate office in the central Post Office?

]}:-{>

Wheelie becoming a problem

The pile that is "Too Difficult"

Something that has – literally – been getting up the Goat’s nose of late is the lamentable state of local refuse collection. The wheelie bin on the corner of Crumbling Villa Crescent has until recently been regularly emptied by the Municipality. But the bin on the corner has become broken; someone has even gone to the effort of wiring it shut. Sadly, the local residents do not go to the effort of taking their domestic trash to one of the other bins. It is much easier simply to pile the trash up against the empty - but sealed shut - wheelie bin on the corner. Apparently the bin is all distorted and won’t fit on the machinery that empties it into the back of the truck, and that is why it’s been sealed shut.

The Goat telephoned the Municipality. It seemed odd that a Public Cleanliness Foreman of the Waste Management Department found it necessary to make an appointment to meet the Goat to have the problem pointed out to him in Small Words and Big Letters.

The foreman advised that the bin in question was privately owned and nothing to do with the Municipality. This is a bin on a public street, not within a private compound. It does have ‘V-49 A-E’ spray-painted on the side, and Villas 49a to 49e are indeed just over the road. However, unless the Crumbling Villa’s landlord also owns Villas 49a to 49e, it’s not the Goat’s landlord’s responsibility or problem. Nevertheless, the Environmental Health foreman insisted on obtaining contact details for the Goat’s landlord.

The Goat argued that vermin attracted by miasmic piles of festering refuse was surely an Environmental Health issue, and it mattered not one jot who owned the broken bin. This got the response that the Municipality would lean on the landlord and a new wheelie bin would be procured. The Goat should call the Municipality in a few days if this didn’t happen.

It will come as no surprise to the reader to learn that the Goat is disappointed to see that the broken wheelie bin and its attendant odious festering pile of mephitic trash remains on the corner of Crumbling Villa Crescent a month after making the complaint.

Meanwhile, attempts to call Environmental Health now go unanswered. Welcome to the “Too Difficult” pile. The Goat rather hopes that this particular health hazard gets dealt with before the summer...

]}:-{>

Exeamus omnes

The fact that Residence Permit (RP) holders have to obtain an Exit Permit each and every time they wish to leave the State of Qatar renders the place, essentially, a comfortable open prison. The basic idea of the exit permit is that nobody can leave without someone standing in and agreeing to pay the debts of the resident who's off on his hols, or going to Dubai to see his Beloved Wife for the weekend.

What renders this system ludicrous is that, for an additional fee, a Multiple Exit permit is obtainable at a cost of QAR500 and valid for a year. Putting aside for the moment the new rule that cancelling an existing multiple exit permit now costs an additional QAR500, which wasn't advertised at the time and is certainly not something The Goat signed up for, there seem to have been some additional changes.

Last weekend, The Goat attempted to leave the country with a suitcase full of some of his worldly goods. He used his ID card at the e-gate, and nothing happened. Now the e-gate facility coded on to The Goat's ID card should be valid for three years from August 2011, and it has functioned faultlessly on 23 occasions. The last two had some problems 'with the system' but the reader eventually decided to let The Goat out and back in again.

Last Thursday was a different story. After a total refusal of any e-gate machine to read the card, The Goat was forced to present his passport and lose yet another page to ink. The immigration official advised what the problem was: the exit permit was valid for passport only, and not for e-gate.

The Goat checked with an Emirati friend who had contacts in Qatari officialdom. Perceived wisdom from that source was that The Goat's sponsor had attempted to prevent The Goat from leaving the country and/or had screwed up the paperwork.

After returning to Qatar, The Goat checked with the firm's HR department, where he was told in No Uncertain Terms that any changes caused by HR to his permission to leave the country would have been advised in advance, but no, there were no known changes in Immigration systems.

So which is it? As usual, The Goat merely seeks knowledge of what the rules are, and what has caused a perfectly good e-gate permit suddenly to become a waste of money. And if you, dear reader, have an e-gate card, you might well be interested in learning if you need to do something about ensuring you can escape from Qatar before turning up at the airport.

The poll has now closed and the results are in.

• 86% reckoned that Immigration had changed the rules and not told anyone.
• 14% suggested a new conspiracy theory that the Goat hadn't considered.

]}:-{>

Uniform

I’m currently navigating the appallingly complex set of rules, procedures and opinions required to export my worldly goods to Dubai. There may be light at the end of that particular tunnel, even though it seems that the solution is to hurl massive sums of money at the problem.

Officialdom, eh? I wonder what it is that turns normal, well-adjusted citizens into misanthropic sociopaths the moment they don a uniform? I went shopping on Saturday. After the atrocious tragedy that was the Villagio fire, that particular shopping mall has been closed, and thus there is a massive shopping mall shortage in Doha. Consequently, up at Landmark the parking areas are full to overflowing and there are cars abandoned all around the mall on any piece of flattish ground that’s within a reasonable walking distance of air-conditioned comfort.

I turned up on my motorbike. Unsurprisingly, all the underground parking bays were occupied, and cars had been abandoned on raised hardstandings and double-parked in aisles. So I asked the uniformed security guard if I could park my bike just here, in an unoccupied corner next to the door. He was adamant that I could not, and dismissed me with an instruction to go and find a space.

I’m surely perfectly entitled to park my motorbike in a car space, of course, and if I’d turned up as the sole occupant of a car there’d be no fuss. But with such a busy car park, isn’t it to everybody’s advantage that I park my bike somewhere that can’t be used by a car? Notwithstanding the outrage of someone who can’t park his Hummer because the only available space is full of motorbike. Unfortunately, the legal position  is unclear. I have heard of tickets being issued to motorbikes “parked illegally in a car space”, and also to motorbikes parked in alleys and on footways because “they should have been parked in a marked space”. At a different mall I have been instructed to “park here” and “no not here; you must park over there” by the same security guard.

My guess is that the security guard has no power over folk who simply abandon their cars in the aisles, and therefore chooses to take out his frustration on the one mall customer who has the courtesy to ask him where he should park his bike.

A similar thing happened a couple of weeks ago over at the Pearl. A group of us bikers rolled into our usual parking area and were shooed away by Security, as this area had been designated for valet parking only. Never mind the cars that had been abandoned there. After we moved to an unoccupied area beneath an adjacent building, more Security arrived and told us that we couldn’t leave our bikes there either. The security guard suggested an alternative place to park but, when this turned out to be a bus stop with an enormous “No Parking” sign, we went back to our original parking area and the rather embarrassed security guard drove away.

In other news, my landlord has decided to be awkward. Obviously I have to vacate the premises, have an inspection done, and then get my security deposit returned. Let’s work backwards.

• I have to close my bank account before I leave the country.
• I need a bank account in order to pay in the security deposit cheque.
• It will take my landlord up to two weeks after final inspection before the cheque is issued.
• I have to vacate on or before the date of final inspection.

So where do I live? The Ramada? Bates Motel? Someone’s sofa? I’ve already paid rent up to 14^th July and I have to leave within a week of my residence permit being cancelled. Allowing a couple of days for the bank to handle cheque clearance and account closure, I will become homeless on 21^st June. I’m suspicious that my landlord is not satisfied with three weeks’ rent paid on an empty flat, but seeks to delay issuing the security deposit cheque until after I’ve demobilised and he can grab a further month’s-worth of free money. Maybe I should sell all the furniture from this fully-furnished flat and let him keep the deposit.

Further demobilising expenses involve the multiple-exit permit. This cost me QAR500 and is valid until August 2012. But I can’t have my residence permit cancelled until after the multi-exit is cancelled. And that now costs QAR500. I never signed up to a cancellation fee; this is a new thing dreamed up by da Gubmint a couple of months ago. It’s a ploy to discourage multiple-exit permits, so the reasoning behind punishing people who are trying to cancel is unclear. I can’t simply let it expire, as my residence permit has to be cancelled before that expires in July.

Ever get the feeling that you’re being ripped off at every turn?

]}:-{>

'tardy responses

The last thing I probably need at the moment is more stress, yet this is what I've chosen to inflict on myself. It all relates to the demobilisation process.

Long story short: I don't want to sell my bike; I don't want to sell my car. As there is evidently a process for exporting motor vehicles (why else would export plates exist?), I want to export my vehicles from Qatar to the UAE.

International transfer of motor vehicles is always exciting. For some reason, there has to be a massive pile of paperwork. Some of this relates to ensuring that a car manufactured for one market is acceptable for use in a different market. There are certain fundamentals such as where the steering wheel is, and whether the rear indicators are orange or red and combined with the brake lights.

Updating this post on 5th June, inserted below are my latest findings. Look for the italics.

I did this once before, and have learned my lesson. "Hi, Mr DHL. Here's my motorbike and a big wad of cash. Please deliver it to me in Qatar." appears simple enough, but in practice required that I constantly monitored progress and poked DHL at regular intervals to get the process moving again.

This time, I'm going the other way: Qatar to UAE. It occurred to me that if I put the bike on a trailer and towed it to Dubai behind the car, I could move house with a minimum of fuss. It's not as if a 700km drive is any big deal, after all. But between here and there lies the magic Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

Obviously I have to de-register the car and bike and get them on export plates. These are valid for ten days. Then I need a transit visa so that I'm allowed to enter the KSA, which I'm only allowed to do provided I promise to leave again. No problem.

I suspected that the procedure would be fraught with obstacles, so I started to ask for information. There are many, many people and organisations in Qatar whose job is to arrange import and export, so one might have imagined that someone would know how to do what is fundamentally a very simple process.

"Trailers not permitted." So the money I've spent getting a towbar fitted is a waste. Bugger. I guess I'll not be lashing out thousands of riyals on a bike trailer. In any case, this 'no trailers' thing is surely patent nonsense; I know several rally teams who successfully move cars and bikes between Qatar and the UAE by road, and they use trailers.

You have to go through an authorised agent to get a Saudi visa. Mine told me that there was absolutely no problem with towing a trailer. The small matter of the trailer cropped up after I'd spoken to a helpful gentleman in the Saudi embassy consular section about why my transit by motorcycle had been refused. After I'd told the agent his response to me, the agent called me back and advised that when I'd been told, "Motorbike? No problem," what I should have been told was, "Motorbike? Impossible."

"Cannot own a vehicle in UAE unless you have a residence visa." This is more of a poser, but luckily I have a Beloved Wife who can own vehicles, and she's resident in Dubai.

There remains some debate about importing more than one vehicle, but as it's a car and a bike and not two cars, this is - at least today - not a problem.

"Your wife must come to Qatar and bring a letter of No Objection stamped by the Embassy." What a lot of rot. If you don't know, why do you insist on making stuff up?

It seems that in order to transport her vehicles over land, a Power of Attorney letter from Beloved Wife is required. This is obtained from a Qatar court, or a UAE court, or I can do it on the basis of Beloved Wife's written No Objection to her husband handling matters. Which version is true depends on who's spouting it.

"Cannot transfer ownership in Qatar unless both parties have Qatar residence." A more senior Captain over at the Traffic Police said that this was nonsense, and having a copy of the purchaser's passport and visa would be sufficient.

"Cannot drive without permission of the owner." Well I'd better get a letter of permission, then. Duh.

As above. Power of Attorney letter is required - in Arabic - for land transportation. It's not required for transport by sea, because then Saudi isn't involved.

"Cannot enter UAE without visa." Visa on arrival.

"Cannot leave Qatar by road because your exit permit is only valid for leaving by air." Well I guess I'll have to get a 'Leaving Qatar by Road' exit permit.

There is no difference. It's an exit permit. Period.

"Cannot register bike unless you have UAE residence and a motorbike licence." So it'll have to wait until I've got UAE residence then. I can't get that until after my Qatar residence has been cancelled, and I can't cancel Qatar until after dealing with all of the business.

Having asked about a dozen different professionals in the export business and got nearly a score of different answers, here is what I believe to be the definitive list of Things To Do. It is based on getting the same story from senior people in several different offices:-

1. Letter from Beloved Wife confirming permission to driver her motorbike.
2. Copy of Beloved Wife's passport and UAE residence visa.
3. Go to Traffic Police in Doha and get export plates and transit insurance for the bike.
4. Ensure export certificate is in Beloved Wife's name.
5. Go to Doha Port with original sales invoice, original import paperwork that proves that import duty was paid when the bike first entered a Gulf country, Certificate of Origin, export certificate. All vehicles more than two years old are subject to 5% tax based on current assessed value.
6. Obtain Bayat Al Maqasa, a certificate stating that all taxes are paid. But this is a worthless document if the vehicle is more than two years old.

At this point it would be possible to load the bike into a container, on to the back of a truck, or on to a ferry. However...

1. Take export certificate and passport to company Public Relations Officer.
2. Obtain company No Objection to my riding Beloved Wife's bike from Qatar to UAE through KSA. (Essentially this is an Arabic translation of Beloved Wife's letter).
3. Obtain one-use KSA transit visa. No. Motorbike forbidden.
4. Obtain exit permit for overland travel. Cancelled.
5. Load personal effects on to the bike, and travel. Cancelled.

Upon arrival in Dubai, fly back to Qatar and repeat the entire process with the car.

All futile. Can't get Arabic Power of Attorney letter because nobody will say which version is acceptable, and thus overland transport is out of the question. So it looks like Mr Hobson is going to put everything in 20-ft box and float it over to Jebel Ali at phenomenal expense.

Wish me luck.

When all this is over, I'll post the actual procedure in the naive hope that someone else trying to pull the same stunt will be confronted with the same hurdles.

]}:-{>

Yes we can

I recently read that the sale of tinned Pepsi and Coca-Cola is now banned in the UAE. Over the next month, cans of this popular cola-flavoured beverage are, by law to be removed from the shelves, on pain of 'strict penalties'. I don't generally drink the stuff, except to disguise the nasty taste of the rum, ha ha.

What has bought about this sudden move by the Ministry of Economy? Positive action against obesity, diabetes, rotten teeth, or littering? An effort to force the general populace to switch to OwnBrand^(TM) Cola, perhaps? Or are the plastic bottles that ultimately come from oil somehow more environmentally sustainable than alumininium, aluminium, aluminum or alumium?

Once we get past the 'Read me! Read me!' headline that suggests that the UAE has chosen its sledgehammer to crack the proverbial nut and has banned soft drinks, we find that the truth makes a lot more sense.

The reason given in this news article is that the cans are breaking the regulations by not having the price or ingredients displayed in Arabic.

I see. Putting aside the semantic issue about the naughty and disobedient cans, it's not exactly rocket surgery to stick a printed paper label on the product, is it? That's what happens to other imported prepacked goods, much to the irritation of those of us who would like to read what's invariably obscured by the label. What is Arabic for 'sugar', 'high-fructose corn syrup' and 'aspartame', by the way?

What is actually happening is made clearer in this news article. The drinks are on sale in both 300ml and 330ml for Coke and 355ml for Pepsi, and they're all up for sale at the same price. The news articles do note that it's only the 300ml cans that are being withdrawn from sale. Apparently, Joe Public cannot tell that the big cans on sale at Dh1.50 offer better value than small cans at Dh1.50, and he and has to be protected. The cost to manufacture, market and transport any can size has got to be virtually identical: what's wrong with "...and up to 55ml free!"? This difference is worth Dh0.275 (less than a shilling in UK old money) to Mr Public, and is for less than four level tablespoons of the actual product.

As the stuff is made locally in the UAE, it surely cannot be beyond the wit of man to print the ingredients list in Arabic, can it? Even some of my beer has Arabic ingredients.

My other canned drink of choice is best served with juniper-berry flavoured beverage and a dash of lemon. I wonder if the curious mixture of 300ml and 330ml packaging will affect tonic water and other products, or be limited to cola?

]}:-{>

Ducks, ducks! Kwak-kwak, Kwak-kwak!

Having checked with Classic Motorcycles that I had every piece of paper in order, I dropped off the bike and all the paperwork on Saturday 3rd September. I was promised that a carpenter would come the following day and build a crate for the bike, and it would be shipped on Monday to arrive in Doha the following Thursday, 8th September.

So much for the theory.

The first thing to go wrong was that the usual courier had ‘temporarily’ ceased to do overland shipping, and Classic Motorcycles was soliciting alternative quotes. Mr P. Staker’s Dh4500 (plus packing materials, insurance and service charge) was rejected before I even heard about it, so full marks to Nelson there. Mr Staker’s friend, Allied Pickfords, wanted over Dh6500. The next problem was that the carpenter desired over Dh600 to build a crate. Nelson acquired a metal pallet from Harley-Davidson down the road for a fraction of that, and as it’s designed for a Hog, it’s surely strong enough for a Kwak. More brownie points for Nelson. And DHL eventually came up with a much less unacceptable quote for overland transport that was merely twice the original estimate.

A further obstacle then appeared. It came in the form of a Certificate of Origin, an esoteric document that is only obtainable from the Dubai Chamber of Commerce and Industry, and then will only be delivered to a bona fide member. DHL told me that shipping to Qatar overland without a COO would incur a fine starting at QAR1000. Apparently, the COO is only required for overland transport but travel by sea would take several weeks and cost a fortune, so said Pickfords.

When Nelson returned from his travels in India on Saturday 17th September, he obtained the COO and the bike was picked up by DHL on Sunday. I was promised delivery by Wednesday 21st September, presumably 2011. According to the on-line tracking, the bike got to Abu Dhabi on Sunday night, and by Monday lunchtime was in a state of ‘Clearance delay’. Conferring with DHL in Doha, I learned that they needed a copy of my Qatar ID card, my passport and Qatar residence permit. These are documents that DHL in Abu Dhabi already has (and were required before they’d pick up the bike from Dubai), but it appears beyond the wit of Man for Abu Dhabi to email copies to Doha. Neither is it possible to pick up the phone and ask me; Muggins chased it up by telephone after noticing the delay reported by on-line tracking, and emailed further copies.

DHL was supposed to present the paperwork to someone down at the Ministry of Rubber Stamps for pre-approval, prior to schlepping the bike across the UAE/KSA and KSA/Qatar borders. This happened the day after I emailed my papers to DHL Doha. I was told that from clearance of this latest layer of bureaucracy to delivery would take four days, but when I rang on Tuesday I was advised that the bike would be on its way later that day.

On Wednesday, the bike was still in Abu Dhabi. This was because there was yet another problem: it didn’t have an export plate. Not that DHL contacted me about it. So much more appropriate that they allow my machine to gather dust in Abu Dhabi until I shout.

The Ministry of Rubber Stamps, the Directorate of Paperclips, and DHL all seem blissfully unaware that motorbikes can’t get export plates; at least, not from the UAE authorities. The official line of non-joined-up thinking: “You can’t transport the bike to Qatar unless you provide something that is impossible to obtain.”

The promised four days would be working days, of course, so the estimate of Wednesday 21st would become Sunday 25th September. As the bike was actually delivered on Saturday, I feels as though I should be grateful. But I’m not. Relieved, yes, but not grateful.

Fundamentally, what I object to is paying people considerable sums for the privilege of running around and doing their jobs for them. Every time there’s another flaming hoop, an additional misaligned duck, or some unsolvable problem, it is incumbent upon Muggins to notice the delay, ask what the problem is, and then to provide a solution. Whatever is so wrong with the principle of handing over my cargo, my written requirements, and my money to a professional firm, and simply instructing, “Make it so.”?

Perhaps what I should have done is obtained a Saudi transit visa, then got the bike inspected for export. Then ridden it to Qatar “for a vacation”, removed the number plate and flown back with the plate in my luggage. After that, I’d have got the export certificate from Tasjeel Sharjah and returned by air to Qatar with all the paperwork. Presenting the bike for registration, I would only then have learned why this procedure was impossible, for it must surely be impossible.

The struggle still isn’t over. I arranged insurance today, so the bike could be registered. When I checked through the paperwork, I discovered that Classic Motorcycles has typed up an official invoice in the sum of the bike’s value when it was new. This is despite my providing a priced inventory at current estimated values, as Nelson instructed. I’m told that Classic Motorcycles had to create an invoice to the same value as Liberty Automobiles’ original invoice otherwise Dubai Chamber of Commerce and Industry wouldn’t issue the vital Certificate of Origin, and export would become impossible. How very exasperating.

At the border, the machine was imported with paperwork that may require 5% duty to be paid. I object, to paying import duty when it was previously paid by me when I originally bought the bike. I object to paying again after providing all the required paperwork that proves I already paid it.

But most of all, I object to paying 5% of the new value when the machine’s now worth half that. It remains to be seen if Officialdom will see reason and fairness, or if I have to pay import duty at effectively 10% in addition to what I paid two years ago when I bought the bike.

Edited on 30th September to add a footnote...

My bike was finally road legal the morning of Wednesday 28th September, after I'd been to the Traffic Police, shown my ID card, signed here and paid this bill. Perhaps it had all been a massive wind-up, or maybe I got lucky, but I didn’t have to pay any import duty. This was no small relief.

Took the bike to work on Thursday, and out for a bimble on Friday morning. Huzzah!

]}:-{>

Simples! Just for a change

The Goat can confirm that a UAE non-resident can obtain an E-Gate card at Dubai airport. It's only worth doing for those who travel in and out of Dubai frequently, but the procedure is very, very simple when compared with everything else the Goat has been subjected to of late.

It is unclear what brands of passport merit E-Gate cards for non-residents; presumably those that are permitted Visa On Arrival.

At the top of the stairs upon arrival in Dubai Terminal 1 passport hall, there's a small desk on the right. Other Terminals doubtless have different arrangement. YMMV. The Man In White confirmed that the Goat could indeed obtain an E-Gate card, but would first have to arrive and have his passport stamped at the desk around the corner (on yet another fresh page, as usual). The queue at this desk, which is adjacent to the E-Gate terminals, was mercifully short, unlike the rest of the arrivals hall that was standing room only and breathing by numbers.

With passport stamped, the Goat was directed over to the National Bank of Dubai booth, there to hand over Dh220 and get a receipt.

Now back to the E-Gate desk, where the Man In White took a digital mugshot and scans of the Goat's hoofprints. In exchange for the NBD receipt, the Goat received his E-Gate card.

Easy peasy, lemming squeezy.

]}:-{>

Biking UAE: The last huzzah

It wasn’t quite as painful as I’d first imagined to ship my motorcycle to Qatar. This wasn’t the favourite option; better would have been to sell the old one in the Emirates and then start again in Qatar with a new machine. But nobody likes big sports-tourers in the Gulf. Presumably the big-bike fraternity all prefer either crotch rockets or cruisers. Once I’d learned that a new 1400GTR was for sale for less than I’d want to get for my two year old example, it started to look like shipping it was a better option.

At one point I was looking into riding the bike back to the UK, but that plan foundered on the rocks of regular employment. No new employer was going to let me have a month off, and this assumes that obtaining the multiple import and export paperwork would be possible. Actually, I know that it is possible: witness Mike's trip a couple of years ago.

But would it be possible to obtain the paperwork from the UAE after my Residence Visa had been cancelled? You gotta laugh.

Back to shipping. It seems that moving the bike from the UAE to Qatar under its own power would be impossible. The machine has to be de-registered in the UAE before it can be registered in Qatar. In order to deregister it, I would have to hand over the licence plate, and it’s completely illegal to ride on the road without a licence plate. So I’d have to pay a man with a truck. DHL comes to mind. Export plates are not available for motorcycles for some unfathomable reason. If they were, I’d ride the thing to Doha.

The procedure is as follows:-

1. Obtain a Qatar Residence Permit and ID card.
Without this, I would not be allowed to import a vehicle.

The remainder of the steps can be completed in one day. I rather enjoyed the excuse to stick a couple of hundred kilometres on the bike, as I went back and forth obtaining the various bits of paper and all in the correct order. Once this was completed, I wouldn’t be able to ride the bike again until after it had become road-legal in Qatar.

2. Obtain copies of the original Bill of Lading and Customs Clearance.
Eventually I resorted to a personal visit to Liberty Automobiles in Sharjah, the place where I originally bought the bike. A very helpful gentleman rummaged through his computer and paper filing system, eventually unearthing the relevant sheet of paper. He photocopied it. The value of this document is that it proves that GCC import duties were paid when the bike first arrived from Japan, and I don’t have to pay 5% of the value new when I import a two year old motorbike. Full marks to Liberty for effort.

3. Visit Tasjeel in Sharjah.
I explained that the reason for the visit was to export the bike, and Dh100 later I had a document and rubber stamp that would make this possible.

4. Visit Classic Motorcycles in Dubai.
This is the Royal Enfield dealer in Dubai. Nelson had previously mentioned to me that he shipped bikes overseas, and could crate up my bike and arrange its transport. I removed the licence plate and awaited the arrival of Beloved Wife and my alternative transportation. That’s it, then. No more motorcycling for a little while.

5. Visit Tasjeel in Sharjah.
In addition to the old licence plate, the export test certificate and payment of Dh210, I was told I needed to produce copies of my passport and visa page (not my Emirates ID card, as per flamin’ usual), and my UAE driving licence. Why they need these latter two items was unclear. I obviously don’t have a valid UAE Residence Visa because I can’t export the bike to Qatar without Qatar residence, and I’ve just removed the licence plate so I can’t ride the bike anyway.

It turns out that what they actually need is some form of photo ID. Anything will do provided it’s got my mugshot on it. I was given two pieces of paper. One was an export certificate, complete with a dire warning that the machine has to leave the UAE within 96 hours, and the other was a certificate that should enable me to obtain a refund of unused motor insurance.

6. Visit Classic Motorcycles in Dubai.
I handed over the all-important Export Certificate and the Bill of Lading. Nelson queried why I needed the latter. “Of course the import duty has been paid. The export certificate proves that the bike’s leaving the UAE, and it would never have got in without the duty being paid.”

He’s right, of course, but I don’t fancy trying to argue that one with a recalcitrant non-English speaker in a week or so’s time.

7. Write a personal invoice.
I had to provide a typed, signed document that recorded the bike and accessories, plus anything in the hard luggage, all itemised and valued.

The bike now gets crated up and driven to Doha via Abu Dhabi and a small section of Saudi. It should arrive by next weekend.

Once it reaches its destination, the machine will need to be inspected in Doha’s Industrial Area and then registered at Madinat Khalifa, several kilometres away. And of course, because it’s illegal to ride it without a licence plate, the bike has to be moved across town on a trailer. I shall let you know, dear reader, if my meticulous planning that has worked impeccably so far continues to do so.

]}:-{>

Eee, great!

I have previously blogged about the inevitable half-hour queue to enter Qatar after arriving by air. More recently, I noted the tendency of Immigration officials to find a fresh page in my passport every time they want to apply a stamp. The way to avoid both of these is to have an E-Gate card, a magic piece of plastic that speeds the bearer’s way through immigration and avoids a passport stamp.

Given that immediately after the Eid Al Fitr holiday, the entire population of Qatar will attempt to enter Doha through the same passport control and the queue will be out of the door and halfway to Wakrah, I really wanted to deal with this before my next international trip. And the government will be shut all next week, so today was the last available day.

According to the Firm’s Human Resources department, the procedure for obtaining an E-Gate card “is easy, and takes about five minutes,” so off I naïvely trotted.

1. Go to Doha International Airport
I parked, then asked the security guard at the door to Departures. He directed me down there to the right where, sure enough, was a door and a large bilingual sign: “E-Gate Card Issuing Office”. Bingo. The door was locked, so I asked someone in uniform when the office opened. “Eight o’clock, but it’s Ramadan, so...”

At a quarter to nine, having observed several other would-be applicants knocking on the door like cats stuck outside in the rain, I asked another man in uniform.

“They don’t do E-Gate cards here. You have to go to the Ministry of the Interior Immigration Department.”

It is beyond the wit of Man to erect a sign to that effect, or at least to remove the existing misleading sign.

2. Immigration Department – Door No. 1
Having paid the ludicrous parking charges for my stay in the airport parking, I headed off to Madinat Khalifa to look for the elusive parking space. Traffic signs direct Immigration customers through the forecourt of a petrol station, and the adjacent roads are emblazoned with “No Waiting” signs, even where there is marked on-street parking. One road is signposted as a one-way street, but it’s a cul-de-sac. So crazy, it’s like living in a Monty Python sketch.

Behind Door No. 1 was a seething mass of humanity. There was nobody at Reception, so I queued at the nearby desk and eventually got to ask for an E-Gate card. “Typing,” said the man behind the counter. “Outside.”

3. Typing
Outside was, of course, devoid of typists. I spotted a sign advertising “Typing, Cafeteria & Studio” and headed over there. Again, it was a zoo, but I finally found the one bloke behind a desk who, when he wasn’t busy doing the male equivalent of the shayla dance, checked my ID card, called up my details, printed these on to a form, and charged me QR8.

4. Door No. 1
Back to Mr Outside. This time he directed me to another desk. It seems Mr Outside works for a bank, and undertakes cashier services only. But he couldn’t tell me that the first time, could he?

5. The Business End
At the actual Reception I eventually made my way to the front of a Middle East queue (50 ft wide, 2 people deep) and explained that I wanted an E-Gate card. I was issued with a number and directed to sit and wait.

6. Biometric Data
My number came up, but it then turned out that I first needed to get mugshots, iris scans and fingerprints done. This is exactly as was clearly not explained to me by the bloke at Reception. Over to the booths where a very nice bint in black inspected my ID card, called up my details, and then directed me to stand and provide exactly the same set of biometric data that is already on the system. Why? For crying out loud, why? What is the point of collecting a duplicate set of iris scans?

7. The Business End – again
After going back to Reception, getting a second ticket, waiting, and finally approaching the desk with my form, I had almost finished. The man in white behind the counter needed to see my ID card; the same thing that I’d already shown at Typing and Biometric. Now he charged me QR300.

“Just a minute, it’s QR200 for the E-Gate card. I don’t want anything else.”

“But we will upgrade your ID card with a chip in it, and that’s an extra QR100. Next year the ID card will be combined with the E-Gate card, driving licence, and health card.”

I see: an Ident-I-Eze card.

Then 20 minutes into the “five-minute wait”, I was handed my new ID card which now incorporates the E-Gate information, and instructed to activate it at the machine “over there.”

Job done. Three and three-quarter hours, this “five-minute” job took. I have had to pay an additional QR100 to replace an ID card only two weeks after it was originally issued. The general roll-out of ID/E-Gate combined is scheduled for next year, so I get it early. But if chipped smart cards are available, why didn’t I get one a fortnight ago?

Summary: How to do it right.
1. Immigration Dept, Madinat Khalifa.
2. Go to Typing.
3. Show ID card and get a printed form.
4. Go to Door No 1.
5. Show ID card at booth. Mugshots, dabs and iris scans.
6. Go to Reception and get a number.
7. Show ID card, pay the money, get the new ID/E-Gate card.
8. Activate the E-Gate part at the machine by the door.
9. Get back to your life.

]}:-{>

Fascinating

The original version is brilliant. Now comes mine.

After being made redundant unexpectedly one day,
I needed a new passport, so flew back to the UK.
I crossed the River Severn, and then all day I spent
A-waiting for my passport in the town of Newport, Gwent.
Cheap flights, cheap flights,
What a fantasy!
There’s no such thing when flying
To UK from DXB.

A new job in the UAE did not materialise.
“There’s loads of jobs,” the Agent says. Regrettably, he lies.
New Zealand and the Gulf I tried, then hearing from the latter:
An interview and job offer came from the State of Qatar.
Cheap flights, cheap flights,
They wanted to meet me.
An early morning Fly Dubai
That turned out to be free.

Beloved Wife stays in Dubai, pursuing her career.
I s'pose four hundred kilometres counts as fairly near.
So every other weekend, to my chagrin and rage,
Official immigration stamps another empty page.
Short flights, short flights:
Doha - DXB.
My ten-year passport isn’t going
To last much more than three.

Now Ramadan draws to a close, and we of course all know how
The world, his wife, his kids, his dog all want to exit Doha.
The airlines take advantage: they don’t have any trouble
With elevating normal fares to make them more than double.
Eid flights, Eid flights
To the UAE:
At fourteen hundred riyals,
This is how to take the pee.

]}:-{>

Staple diet

The Goat retrieved his passport, which is currently being passed around government departments as part of Qatar's Residence Permit process, so that he could spend a weekend in Dubai with his Beloved Wife. There's also the Goatmobile to re-register and insure for another year, because that still remains to be sold.

The Goat should like to thank whichever bright spark nailed staples through his new, electronic, machine-readable passport.

The said staples have now been carefully removed. It remains to be seen how much damage may have been done to the passport's delicate electronics.

]}:-{>

Do you 'ave a leecence?

Today I discovered that I’d been breaking the law for the past week. Purely by chance, I discovered that I’m only allowed to use my UAE driving licence for seven days (not three months as previously asserted by my employer), after which I completely forget how to drive in Qatar, my motor insurance ceases to be valid, and if some idiot decides to drive into the back of my rental car when I stop at a red traffic light, I’ll collect some Black Points, a massive fine, and also a very short haircut and some time in Al Slammah.

The actual rules seem to vary, dependent on who you ask. Also the phase of the moon and your grandfather’s inside-leg measurement may have some effect. But in summary:-

GCC nationals can drive ad infinitum in Qatar with impunity.

Expatriate holders of GCC licences may drive in Qatar for up to either two weeks or three months, depending on who you ask.

Holders of International Driving Permits may drive in Qatar for up to six months.

Holders of various brands of foreign driving licence may drive in Qatar for up to one week.

BUT the moment an expatriate’s visa turns into a ‘Work’ visa, as opposed to a ‘Visit’ or ‘Business’ visa, the said expat has to obtain a Qatar driving licence.

So there I was, happily driving a rental car. But last week my visa was converted from ‘Business’ to ‘Work’ as part of the slow process of obtaining a Residence Permit, and so I came over all driving unlicensed and uninsured. The rental company was indifferent. As far as they were concerned, if I drove without insurance I’d be trapped in the country until I bought them a new car to replace the one I’d pranged. Hardly a responsible attitude, I think.

I made several phone calls and emails, explaining that there was no way I was getting into the car again until I was legal. I do not relish the prospect of attempting to explain from the comfort of a Qatar gaol cell how I’d been misled by my employer. Anyway, ignorantia legis non excusat.

So at 3pm I was given a lift up to the driver and vehicle licensing centre, where an eye-test and QAR150 later I had a temporary Qatar driving licence. Another QR150 for the motorcycle licence, because the nice lady behind the counter seemed incapable of ticking two boxes on the same form. The temporary licence is valid for three months. Once I have my Residence Permit I can upgrade to a full Qatar licence for an additional fee. I think the technical term is ‘tax’.

In summary, the licensing process was easy. But it was fraught with unnecessary concern and risk on my part, all because of the vagaries of the rules and a lackadaisical attitude of others to keeping me on the correct side of the law.

]}:-{>