Here’s Qatar, What about Kuwait and Egypt?

I’m pretty sure I snored on the plane.

I woke up mid snore and the man sitting next to me was staring in my direction with a mildly horrified look on his face. I pretended to be extremely busy with waking up. I readjusted my airplane pillow which really isn’t a pillow, and lifted my airplane blanket which is not really a blanket, to my shoulders. I turned my head towards the window and saw the sun rising on the horizon that we were heading towards. I thought about the little travellers asleep in their beds, a restless leg, a flickering eyelid. A couple of them would be close to waking up. The others in denial.

I stood in the immigration line and noticed students from the little travellers school. They were all much older than my guys. The girls all had long hair, everyone of them wearing their informal uniform: skinny jeans, ballet flats or converse sneakers, and a hoody. A uniform the young PR rep I’d spent the weekend with was travelling in today.

As I made my way to the taxi stand I noticed the small mosque across the road. How many hours ago was it that I was standing in the blue mosque? Did that all just really happen?

I’d spent the weekend being called “Qatar”. An easy moniker as I was the only blogger from Doha. It wasn’t just me with the new name.

“Here’s Qatar, but what about Egypt and Kuwait? Are they in the bathroom or have they gone out to the bus?” someone would say as we moved from one destination to the other.

When I walked through the front door of our home with my suitcase and carry bag, I was greeted with squeals and cuddles from the little travellers.

“Mums’s home! Mum’s home!” yelled the second little traveller up the stairs.

“What did you get me?” said the fourth.

“MumMumMum, Dad cooked Pad Thai, twice! It was so amazing, so good.”

G came down looking rushed, there was a 5 minute window until they had to leave for school. A flurry of activity began around me, they were riffling through bags, choosing presents, and then it was time to go. It was then that Qatar quietly left through the front door and Mum reappeared.

“I can’t find my soccer bag” the second little traveller said with frustration. The others began walking to the car.

The search escalated in intensity as the seconds ticked by, people were getting agitated.

“Hurry up Annie!” called the boys from the back seat.

It was, of course, immediately my fault. “You were the last one to carry it Mum, you carried it to the car last week”.

“Darling, your soccer bag is not my responsibility”. I was now back speaking in Mum language.

I raced outside and found it in my car.

“Quick! I’ve found it, get in the car!”

“I don’t have my water bottle.” she said as the door was about to close.

“I’ll bring it at pick up. Get in the car!”

 Pick up.

“Annie, you’ve got soccer. Fred has track. Lizzie has cross country, and Henry you’re with me until hockey starts. Yes?”

There was a collective nod.

The Blue Mosque, when was that again?

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  1. Ah yes. Reminds me of when I was lying down on my 1000 thread cotton sheets at the five star spa in Cyprus, and thought I might just let the family know I was there safely. My reply? ‘Mum Mum Mum… we don’t have anything in the cupboards for dinner!’ x

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