An eleven-hour layover in Doha.

It’s barely light out when I step out of my apartment into the empty streets of Old Town Warsaw.

My flight isn’t too early, but an international flight pushes up the time I need to leave for the airport. I am off to Harare, Zimbabwe, by way of Doha and Lusaka, with an eleven-hour layover in the former and an hour and change layover in the latter. Fortunately, I don’t have to get off the plane in Lusaka; the flight continues on to Harare after dropping off and picking up passengers.

It’s my second time in Doha this year, the first on a layover from Muscat to the Maldives, where I met up with my nephew for our first taste of the city before meeting up with the rest of the family in Malé. I’d flown through Doha a few times, but that was the first opportunity I had to actually leave the airport and see a bit of the city. Most of the time I’d arrive closer to midnight with a connection in morning.

Then, we went to the souq to check out the market and have dinner. We didn’t have the time to see anything else. This time I am determined to visit the Museum of Islamic Art to admire the architecture and the art.

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I had forgotten how big Hamad International Airport is and ended up taking the tram from one end of the terminal to the other in hopes of reaching immigration sooner. I don’t have a lot of time; the flight arrived at 16h and the museum closes at 19h.

Surprisingly, there’s almost no one waiting at immigration. When I had come in March it had taken the better part of an hour to wind our way through the line before we could reach the exit. Today, I am through in practically the amount of time it takes me to walk up to the officer and have them stamp my passport.

I collect some emergency cash from the ATM and then order an Uber to the museum.

It’s a beautiful building, its angular blocks accentuated by the fading light of the day. We head up the driveway up to the entrance and after the driver drops me off I walk back a bit to admire the approach.

At the front desk the attendant tells me that the museum will be closing at 18h45. I have an hour and a half. Plenty of time, he tells me, but I’m not so sure.

After dropping my bags at coat check I walk into the central atrium of the building. Huge windows look out over the water to the city beyond and a few people lounge on couches and chairs enjoying late-afternoon snacks and drinks.

It’s a beautiful building with a fantastic collection. I start on the ground floor and spend too much time admiring the exhibits for the time I have available to me. I need to pick up the pace, but there are so many beautiful artifacts to admire that I already know that I’m going to have to come back when I find myself on another extended layover in Doha.

When I reach the second floor I look up and ask if there’s another gallery on the third floor. The guard tells me no, but I suspect that they’ve already starte closing up the museum for the night.

I walk outside to admire the view. The sun has set and the skyline is lit up for the night. People mill about taking in the warm evening air. A woman stands in an arch, her boyfriend taking her photo. She sees my camera and asks if I can take the photo instead. She hands her phone to me and thanks me when I hand it back, scrolling through the photos I’ve taken.

Back inside I stop in the gift shop. There are replicas of various artifacts and I’m tempted by a plate but it doesn’t have the same patina; it looks too new. A bracelet attracts me but once I get a closer look I see the gold Arabic letter that serves as the clasp is too delicate. I’d destroy it immediately.

My connecting flight doesn’t leave until past two in the morning and I have time for dinner. I take a cab to the National Museum of Qatar. I had marked Jiwan to try on my last visit and there’s space for me tonight. It turns out there’s quite a bit of space once I enter the restaurant.

I get lost on the way there. The complex is large and I flag down a man on a golf cart to ask directions. He motions me to get on board and drives me to the entrance.

I have a great time at dinner. Given the various flights I’ve taken and will take—and the time I’ll be spending in airports—it’s nice to get out to a refined meal. When dessert comes Sharif tells me that it’s fashioned to resemble the museum, which itself takes its design inspiration from the desert rose rock.

I take tea afterwards and end up chatting with Perry, who is from Yangon. She’s surprised I’ve been to Myanmar, but it’s been a long time. I’m not sure I’d recognize the city if I were to go back now.

After dinner I spend some time walking around the museum to view it from as many angles as I can. It’s an impressive structure, and the concrete glows under the orange lights in a way reminds me of the desert from which the architect took his inspiration.

Back at the airport I walk to the Orchard nd then past it to where I had slept on my last overnight layover in Hamad International. Then, I had arrived too late to head into the city, and was leaving too early to justify a hotel.

Unfortunately, my spot is taken and so I find another, napping until a woman sits near me and proceeds to have a loud video call with a friend sans headphones. I rise and walk to another part of the airport to lay down and sleep, setting multiple alarms to make sure I don’t miss my flight. 🇶🇦