| |
Doha: A Layover Turned Adventure
Post Date : 2025-02-09
Doha, Qatar
Jan. 14, 2025
The journey back to the U.S. was where the real drama unfolded. My flight from Mumbai to Doha was a logistical miracle, thanks to the manual efforts of the airline staff. But upon arriving in Doha at 5:00 AM, I discovered that my connecting flights had been canceled due to a ticketing error. My name was nowhere in the system, and I was left stranded in the sprawling Hamad International Airport. Kumar, a kind Qatar Airways employee, tried to calm me with water and reassurances, but the situation was dire. By 7:20 AM, it was clear I wouldn’t make my flight to Chicago. Mandar and Purba were already messaging me on WhatsApp, offering help and apologies. I assured Purba it wasn’t her fault—this was just one of those travel nightmares that happen to the best of us. By 8:40 AM, I made the decision to rebook my flight for the next day. With a 24-hour layover in Doha, I decided to make the most of it. I secured a visa on arrival for $20, though the customs officer scolded me for lifting my fingers too soon during the fingerprint scan.
Armed with a one-day metro pass, I set out to explore the city. My first stop was the Villagio Mall, a lavish shopping center adorned with Venetian-style architecture. I treated myself to a hearty meal at TGI Fridays, though the 105 Qatari Riyal price tag left me hesitant to leave a tip. Next, I wandered through the Souq Waqif, a traditional market brimming with spices, textiles, and handmade crafts. I was tempted to buy a model airplane with an antelope logo—a nod to Qatar Airways—but the steep price deterred me. The mild weather was a welcome respite, and I found myself lounging on a platform, almost dozing off before the fear of snoring in public jolted me awake. My final stop was the Mall of Qatar, a grand but less thematic shopping center. By then, my shoulders ached from carrying my backpack, and my feet begged for mercy. I grabbed a bowl of Japanese ramen at Sugoi for 37 Riyal and struck up a conversation with an African shop assistant who guessed my Malaysian origins. When he asked if I’d voted for Trump, I laughed and replied, "Only an idiot would."
By midnight, I was back at the airport, determined to avoid any further mishaps. The flight to Dallas was long but uneventful. I passed the time watching Solo: A Star Wars Story and Rogue One, though I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen the latter before. Touchdown in Dallas at 8:45 AM brought a new set of challenges: a five-hour layover, slow internet, and a phone plan that had lapsed due to an outdated credit card. After resolving the issue and grabbing a quick Chick-fil-A meal, I finally boarded my flight to Louisville. The relief of arriving home was short-lived. As the Uber pulled up to my house, I realized I’d left my pull-string backpack—containing two precious pills—somewhere along the way. The driver and I searched her Honda Passport twice, but it was gone. Exhausted but determined, I unpacked, fed my dog Yang2, and filmed the snowy backyard he’d turned into his personal gardening project. The shrubs were now a third of their original size, a testament to his boredom in my absence. By 9:30 PM, I finally settled down, reflecting on the whirlwind of the past week. From the highs of a successful workshop in Mumbai to the lows of a chaotic layover in Doha, it had been a journey of resilience, adaptability, and unexpected adventures. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but smile. Despite the challenges, I had added a new country to my list, forged deeper connections with colleagues, and returned home with stories to tell. And isn’t that what travel—and life—is all about?
This journey was a reminder that even the best-laid plans can go awry, but it's how we navigate the chaos that defines the experience. The workshop in Mumbai was a testament to the power of collaboration and creativity, while the layover in Doha became an unplanned adventure that pushed me out of my comfort zone. Through it all, I learned to embrace the unexpected, find humor in the absurd, and appreciate the kindness of strangers. It was a trip I’ll never forget—a blend of professional fulfillment, cultural immersion, and personal growth.
A workshop to remember
Post Date : 2025-02-09
Mumbai, India
Jan. 7 - 14, 2025
The bustling streets of Mumbai greeted me with their chaotic symphony—honking cars, the hum of street vendors, and the occasional waft of spices lingering in the air. It was my first time back in India in years, and the rawness of life here was on full display, a stark contrast to the polished order of my life back in the United States. I had been invited by Professors Mandar Rane and Purba Joshi to conduct a workshop at the prestigious IDC School of Design, IIT Bombay, on January 10, 2025. The invitation was an honor, and I eagerly accepted, unaware of the whirlwind of challenges and adventures that awaited me.
The journey to Mumbai was anything but smooth. A snowstorm in the Midwest had thrown my travel plans into disarray. My ticket was hastily rescheduled to depart on January 5, but the return journey was a logistical nightmare. American Airlines had failed to secure my return flight for January 14, and as a result, I found myself bouncing between counters at the airport, pleading with Qatar Airways and Indigo Airlines to issue me a boarding pass. It was a frustrating ordeal, but by some miracle, I made it to Mumbai on January 7, with just two days to finalize my workshop materials.
The workshop itself was a triumph. Fourteen participants from six Indian art and design institutes gathered in a sunlit classroom at IIT Bombay. The theme was Sun Tzu’s ancient wisdom: “Know yourself and know your enemy.” We paired binary oppositional values with visual storytelling and design principles, encouraging participants to reflect on their strengths and challenges through self-assessment surveys. The culmination was a series of poster designs that fused ancient philosophy with modern design thinking. The energy in the room was electric—ideas flowed freely, and the collaborative spirit was palpable. By the end of the day, I felt like a rockstar, with participants lining up for selfies and group photos. It was a humbling reminder of why I love teaching: the power to inspire and be inspired.
After the workshop, I indulged in some much-needed retail therapy on Jan 11. Mandar and Purba took me to City Mall, where I picked up bedsheets, coasters, and souvenirs for friends back home. The next day, we ventured to Navi Mumbai, home to an Ikea store and a bustling food street. I couldn’t resist trying the iconic vada pav, a spicy potato fritter sandwiched in a bun. The vendor was amused by my tolerance for heat as I eagerly asked for extra green chilies. It was a small but memorable moment, a testament to the vibrant culture and warmth of the people. Meanwhile, the first week of Spring 2025 classes at IUS coincided with my international workshop, forcing me to miss the first class of instruction. On January 13, Mandar picked me up from the Beatle Hotel, and we drove to campus. After parking, we took a rickshaw to an insurance claim company to help his friend process payment for his son’s bone marrow transplant. By noon, we were back on campus, stopping at a café where Purba joined us. She took me to her office to work on a research paper inspired by the workshop. I was excited about the possibility of submitting a full paper to Norse2025, a design conference in Oslo, Norway.
I made steady progress until a video from Jin on WhatsApp disrupted my focus. It showed my mom without her maid, and I had a sinking feeling she might fall—which she did. Thankfully, she only hurt her back slightly. The incident shook me, especially after losing dad the previous year. The thought of another loss was unbearable. Despite the distraction, I managed to continue working, grateful that mom was okay. Later, Mandar and Purba returned, treating me to a quick bite at a canteen before I resumed my work in Purba’s office, determined to make the most of the day.
Mandar, Purba, a driver in a Toyota van picked me up to head to Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport. Half an hour later, we arrived, sharing heartfelt group hugs as I told them how much I loved them both. From their hotel, the journey had seemed calm, but the familiar chaos of Mumbai traffic soon returned. At the airport alone, confusion struck—my Qatar Airways flight number didn’t appear on the screen. Directed to Indigo’s counter, they even placed a sticker on my passport, only to send me back to Qatar Airways. This was the start of my ordeal. By 2:15 AM, panic set in as I was shuffled between counters. Finally, at 3:10 AM, the issue was resolved, and I rushed to Gate 48A. Four hours later, at 5:00 AM Doha time, I landed safely in Qatar, only for my nightmare to begin anew.
|
|
YEOH'S JOURNAL
|
