Like this:

When I first landed in Doha, every person, grain of sand, sky scraper and trash can left me in awe. I can’t believe I’m in Qatar, became my daily mantra. This. Is. So. Awesome.

With my camera attached to my hand and a small black tape recorder readied to capture a couple speaking Arabic, or my first call to prayer, my world felt sensationally stimulating.

Don’t get me wrong–it still is. But I’m finding that as I get more comfortable in this desert, my daily ‘amazement’ index is on the decline.

I’ve found myself talking to friends back home, remarking that “not much is happening here.” This is a lie. A lot is happening. Everyday. But I’m not noticing it as much as I used to.

Take my new driver, Saif. One of the women in my office recommended his services––as a result, I’ve bid adieu to Fox and Karwa in the mornings. Every morning (and most evenings) Saif and I have broken English conversations about the world. He tells me about India (he’s from Kerala) and I tell him about America. Today, he showed me a picture of his two-year-old son. He speaks six different languages.

Saif is just part of my routine.

So is the Arabic food. Last night, I went to Turkey Central with some friends. It’s a restaurant on one of the only streets in Doha that resembles a real city (meaning you can walk down it)–Merqab Street. Turkey Central is the ultimate seedy storefront––greasy food, greasy staff.

More delicious pita, more chicken schwaerma, more of the same.

The call to prayer, once a sound that made my pulse quicken, is now a regular part of my day. The myriad mosques, the regal abayas and the thick perfume of fruity shisha in the souq––it’s all expected.

But this, I think, is one of the greatest human faults. We are each living lives rich with uniquely eccentric details. In Maine or Mauritania, Quebec or Qatar, life is rife with characters, sounds, smells and stories. But over time, colors become muted, daily spices taste bland—if you let them.

My challenge, and my goal here, is to constantly observe, to keep a firm grip on the elusive, honeymoon-like awe of my first few weeks. As a journalist, it’s my duty to look more carefully at daily activities and see what’s interesting in the ordinary. Really, though, there isn’t much here that’s “ordinary.” It’s just a matter of keeping up the mantra: I can’t believe I’m in Qatar.

It’s still very true.

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