We live in a compound. (See how I tricked you into reading there? Just keep going!)
In 95% of the cases, that's not as forbidding are it sounds! Most compounds here consist of groups of townhouses surrounding a clubhouse that usually contains a pool, sports courts, pool tables, a coffee shop, a little grocery store, a projection room, and assorted other amenities. Club "house" is really sort of a misnomer, come to think of it. Usually, these places are fun-filled meeting areas around which compound life revolves.
But not in our compound! You see, ours is new, and we are experiencing a few growing pains. At first, I was willing to let all these things go because I know things are evolving here, and I didn't want to be one to rock the boat in a new country at a new job with new rules. You see, most employers either pay a housing stipend and let you find your own compound or build compounds of their own for their employees. Even if employers don't sponsor their own compound, lots of people who work together live together anyway, because when one family likes a compound, they usually share the wealth with their friends. Our compound is sponsored by the husband's company, so we live with fellow employees. But, because of hiring issues and hierarchies (did I forget to mention that housing allotments are determined by job rank here? So our complex is designated for managers and above. Don't even get me started on this plan. Rank means that a manager gets a two or three bedroom apartment, while a director or above gets a four bedroom villa, regardless of number of dependents. It's craziness!), our complex is still fairly empty and because of licensing issues I don't fully understand, the additional amenities you find elsewhere are slow in coming. And because of some design choices which are in keeping with the ultra modern vibe here, our buildings are square and grey and therefore the complex as a whole looks a bit like a prison on the outside. Just a little bit!
Supposedly, we will soon be getting a replacement for the hazardous play structure they abruptly moved out of our playroom the other day (we do have a few rooms that are in working order-ish: a playroom, now minus its central feature, a weight room with individual monitors on the machines that don't work, and a game room with a few pool tables that do function perfectly, depending on who is playing, of course!). And also soon (which is very relative and not as soon as the other soon) we will be getting an outdoor play structure covered by a sun shade to be located by our pool. Because we do have a pool, a giant, beautiful, ENORMOUS pool that no one uses except for three hardy children from New Zealand because the water is too gosh darn cold right now, but hey, there it is. In the meantime, we wait. (But trust me, in a few weeks, we are going to be loving that pool!)
In Qatar, you do a lot of waiting, oh so very much waiting, but because I am not one to just hope that things get done, I have been pressuring the husband to pressure the powers that be so that these promises are actually kept. And I have put our names on a wait list for another compound that is older (and therefore has all the kinks worked out) and closer to the boys' school. This complex is beautiful and therefore highly in demand, so I figure we might have a long, long time to wait on that list, but that gives our current compound time to catch up, so we have nothing to lose.
Our place has such potential, which is largely unrealized at this point, which makes living here a teeny bit more frustrating than I would wish. And, of course, it feels silly to complain about a missing projection room or swing set or convenience store (first world problems, much??), but these sorts of things really are the norm here, so when in Rome!
In 95% of the cases, that's not as forbidding are it sounds! Most compounds here consist of groups of townhouses surrounding a clubhouse that usually contains a pool, sports courts, pool tables, a coffee shop, a little grocery store, a projection room, and assorted other amenities. Club "house" is really sort of a misnomer, come to think of it. Usually, these places are fun-filled meeting areas around which compound life revolves.
But not in our compound! You see, ours is new, and we are experiencing a few growing pains. At first, I was willing to let all these things go because I know things are evolving here, and I didn't want to be one to rock the boat in a new country at a new job with new rules. You see, most employers either pay a housing stipend and let you find your own compound or build compounds of their own for their employees. Even if employers don't sponsor their own compound, lots of people who work together live together anyway, because when one family likes a compound, they usually share the wealth with their friends. Our compound is sponsored by the husband's company, so we live with fellow employees. But, because of hiring issues and hierarchies (did I forget to mention that housing allotments are determined by job rank here? So our complex is designated for managers and above. Don't even get me started on this plan. Rank means that a manager gets a two or three bedroom apartment, while a director or above gets a four bedroom villa, regardless of number of dependents. It's craziness!), our complex is still fairly empty and because of licensing issues I don't fully understand, the additional amenities you find elsewhere are slow in coming. And because of some design choices which are in keeping with the ultra modern vibe here, our buildings are square and grey and therefore the complex as a whole looks a bit like a prison on the outside. Just a little bit!
Supposedly, we will soon be getting a replacement for the hazardous play structure they abruptly moved out of our playroom the other day (we do have a few rooms that are in working order-ish: a playroom, now minus its central feature, a weight room with individual monitors on the machines that don't work, and a game room with a few pool tables that do function perfectly, depending on who is playing, of course!). And also soon (which is very relative and not as soon as the other soon) we will be getting an outdoor play structure covered by a sun shade to be located by our pool. Because we do have a pool, a giant, beautiful, ENORMOUS pool that no one uses except for three hardy children from New Zealand because the water is too gosh darn cold right now, but hey, there it is. In the meantime, we wait. (But trust me, in a few weeks, we are going to be loving that pool!)
In Qatar, you do a lot of waiting, oh so very much waiting, but because I am not one to just hope that things get done, I have been pressuring the husband to pressure the powers that be so that these promises are actually kept. And I have put our names on a wait list for another compound that is older (and therefore has all the kinks worked out) and closer to the boys' school. This complex is beautiful and therefore highly in demand, so I figure we might have a long, long time to wait on that list, but that gives our current compound time to catch up, so we have nothing to lose.
Our place has such potential, which is largely unrealized at this point, which makes living here a teeny bit more frustrating than I would wish. And, of course, it feels silly to complain about a missing projection room or swing set or convenience store (first world problems, much??), but these sorts of things really are the norm here, so when in Rome!
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