Qatar makes Saudi seem like another world

We took a little road trip to Qatar this weekend.

As we passed through the no-man’s land between Saudi and Qatar, I made a sarcastic comment, something along the lines of, “gee I sure can tell I’m in another country!”

But a few miles down the road – and inside the boundaries of Qatar, I put the sarcasm aside, realizing that I really and truly COULD tell I was in another country.

Or at least no longer in Saudi.

For one thing, it was clean!

Even tho we travelled through basically unpopulated desert for much of the 75 km from the border to out hotel in Doha, I could easily count on both hands the number of plastic bags I saw littering the side of the road. There were no junk heaps. No piles of discarded tires. No bags of household garbage dumped at the side of the road, no construction debris abandoned to the desert. As far as I could see, all I saw was cleanliness.

And it was organized!

The roads were in great shape, and the traffic was obedient to the many signs erected along the way. Signs in both Arabic and English reminding drivers to buckle up for safety and to obey speed laws. There were signs that read “Do not do it if it is unsafe”, and “Make safety your first responsibility”, and amazingly – the people seemed to be paying attention!

Even in the city, the drivers were orderly. Two lanes marked on the highway meant two lanes – not the four, five or six which routinely spring forth on a Saudi road. There were no cars passing on the left, no cars driving over sidewalks to get to the front of the line, no cars cruising through red lights. And – this last one took me a few minutes to process – but there was silence! Not every driver was honking his horn in agitation and displeasure!

Our friend who was travelling with us used to work in Doha years ago. He told stories about the deserts looking like fields of discarded blue bags, and the roads being a tangle of traffic and chaos. It was nearly as filthy and disgusting as Saudi, he told us, obviously preparing us for the worst.

After hearing his stories, we were all pleasantly shocked to see and experience the new, cleanup and organized version of both Doha and Qatar. But we were – and are – also curious. What happened? What changed? How did Qatar become what it is today – a place we can’t wait to get back to?

And, why can’t Saudi do the same?

I’ve written before about what a garbage dump Saudi Arabia has become. It’s nearly impossible to drive but a few kilometres before coming across debris, garbage, litter. And not just plastic bags clinging to any surface, but tires and bricks and concrete blocks and building supplies and broken toilets and household trash and loose papers and school books and industrial waste and abandoned vehicles and plastic barrels and 50-gallon drums and rolls of carpet backing and sofas and …well, you name it and if it is useless or unwanted or in any way considered to be trash, you will find on the roadways and vacant lots, in the neighborhoods and commercial centers, and the industrial complexes and schoolyards and the deserts – even the deep deserts – of Saudi Arabia.

And the traffic! Well there's no word that describes the traffic better than chaos. No rules, no enforcement and no logic. Drivers are arrogant, undisciplined bullies who use cars to fortify their manhood with no regard to human life or law and order. Imagine giving a bunch of immature, hormone-crazed teenage boys on steroids fast, powerful cars and telling them they are ENTITLED to do whatever they want without consequence - oh including the consequence of death! - and you begin to get the picture of what traffic is like in Saudi Arabia!

It makes me sick and angry and very, very sad.

Spending time in Qatar this weekend reminded me how pleasant and peaceful the Arabian Peninsula can be, should be – and is – if the inhabitants have both pride and respect.

When we crossed the border and got back into Saudi this afternoon, the sarcasm was all gone. I really could tell I was in a different country. The ragged collection of pink and blue plastic bags clinging to the border fencer told me more clearly than any sign could that I was back in Saudi.

And if there was any doubt, it was wiped away a few kilometers later when a local in a SUV blew past us on the left shoulder, with a half dozen little kids bouncing around unbelted in the back.

Yep. No doubt about it, we were home.

How does travel impact your vision of home? Does it make you more tolerant or less tolerant? Does it spur you to action or sink you into apathy?