Stuck in the Middle East: 7 Days in Doha

28 February – 7 March 2026

I was only supposed to transit through Doha for one hour. I was flying from Washington, USA to Tbilisi, Georgia, and everything seemed normal until our plane suddenly turned back before entering Iranian airspace. At first, I did not fully understand what was happening. I remember feeling confused, but not panicked. What I did not expect at all was that this short stopover would turn into seven full days of being stuck in Doha.

At the airport

Strangely, I was very calm in the beginning. While many people rushed to line up for transfer information, I looked at the long queue and decided not to join it. Instead, I went to the lounge, relaxed, and even took a three-hour nap in a sleep capsule. My flight was meant to leave at 7am, but we only got confirmation about the delay around 10-ish. We stayed on the plane for a while, then spent hours sitting in the airport. I only queued for accommodation at around 9pm, and by then there was almost no line at all. It reminded me that sometimes small decisions can make a difficult situation a little easier.

1st challenge

The first real challenge came when I tried to arrange a hotel. One staff member kept telling me that there were no rooms available. That moment was frustrating, and I started to worry. But instead of giving up, I spoke to another staff member, and eventually I got a room sorted. That small experience stayed with me because it reminded me that sometimes the problem is not always the situation itself, but the person you happen to ask.

After that, I was told there was no hotel transport and that I should book an Uber myself, so I did. When I finally arrived at the hotel, I thought the waiting was over, but it turned out I had been sent to the wrong branch. The location had not been clearly written. So there was yet another wait, another transfer, and another moment of trying to stay patient.

When I eventually reached the correct hotel, I felt relieved. I had asked for a good and bigger room, and to my surprise they gave me a suite. I remember thinking how lucky I was. But that calm feeling did not last long. Once I got into my room, I heard a loud missile sound outside. It was the first time in my life I had ever heard something like that, and suddenly the experience felt far more real. The next morning, I woke up again to the sound of missiles. This time, I felt genuinely worried. The sound seemed close, and for a moment I wondered whether it could land near the hotel. I also did not have my luggage with me, which made everything feel more uncomfortable. I could not exercise even though the hotel had good facilities, because I didn't have my running clothes and shoes. So I mostly stayed inside, took photos of the room, and tried to settle into a strange kind of temporary life.

1st time going outside

By the third day, I started thinking 'why not going out'. I also began speaking to people around the hotel, and almost every conversation seemed to return to the same topic: the delay, the uncertainty, and the question of what would happen next. Staying indoors all day was starting to affect me, so I forced myself to go outside. I walked around the hotel area, then later took an Uber to a park and walked to a night market. I bought kunefe takeaway and spent time walking by myself. It was not a grand adventure, but it felt important. Sometimes when things feel uncertain, movement itself helps. You do not need answers straight away. Sometimes you just need to get out, breathe, and remind yourself that the world is still there.

1st Syrian friend

On the fourth day, I went to a salon for a hair treatment and nail polish because I wanted to see a bit more of local life. What surprised me was that many of the workers there were Filipino. We talked a lot. One had worked in the same salon in Doha for twenty years while raising her children from afar in the Philippines. The woman who did my nails had been there for five years and told me her daughter was in high school and preparing for nursing school. She said her biggest hope was that her daughter would focus on education and not marry too young. That conversation stayed with me because it reminded me how much quiet sacrifice so many women carry for their children.

Later after dinner, I went out with someone I had met at the hotel, a dessert chef named Yasser. I hesitated at first because it was a late-night drive, and part of me questioned whether it was a good idea. The first time I met him was because I had asked about a dessert I liked, and once he knew what I meant, he made it for me. That small gesture left a good impression on me. That night he showed me The Pearl and Doha’s waterfront area, and we sat and talked until midnight. It was one of those unexpected travel moments where you realise that sometimes the people you meet become part of the story just as much as the place itself.

Yasser told me about his life, and I found his story deeply moving. He is Syrian and has lived in Doha alone for ten years. He first left Syria because of war, went to Sudan, and later moved to Doha. He talked about long working hours, low pay, and the difficulty of being away from his family, but he told it all with a kind of lightness and humour that stayed with me. What touched me most was his humility. He worked hard, but he still carried hope. He told me he wanted to open his own restaurant one day. His family is spread across different countries, and although he speaks to them daily, he has not seen some of them in person for years. There was something heartbreaking in the way he described keeping voice calls on in the background while doing daily tasks, just to feel close to them.

That night, he also told me about his priorities in life: family first, then work, then dreams. He said that if family and work are stable, dreams will follow. I liked that very much. It sounded simple, but it felt very grounded. He also shared something his grandfather once told him: don’t worry too much about small things, only focus on the big things — and the good part is, most things in life are actually small things. That line stayed with me. In a week full of uncertainty, it felt like the kind of advice I needed to hear.

We also talked about religion and belief. Even though I have different beliefs, I wanted to understand his perspective. He explained that his faith helps him stay humble and not compare his life too much with others. He said it keeps him from becoming too greedy or too negative. Listening to him, I could see how belief had helped him survive so much while still remaining soft and hopeful.

1st tea

On the following day, I went back out on my own to the waterfront I had visited together with Yasser because I genuinely liked the area. During the daytime, Doha felt very quiet. Because of the heat and the fasting month, there were hardly any people outside. Later, when I returned to the hotel, there were more alerts about staying indoors, but by the evening the atmosphere shifted again. After dinner, I walked around the hotel area and it felt almost magical. It was crowded, but peaceful at the same time. That contrast stayed with me. Even in the middle of tension and uncertainty, the city still held a certain calmness. I remember thinking that Qatari people seemed naturally calm.

That same night, I met Jon, an Indonesian man working for Qatar Airways. He took me out for a drive and showed me more of Doha. We had chai and ice cream at Mado, which he picked because he knew I was meant to be going to Türkiye. We talked about Qatari's tradition, family and migration.

Last day

On my final day in Doha, I did not sleep at all. I had been out late, then had a meeting with my team in the morning, and after that I made my way to the Australian embassy’s designated meeting point. From there, we were transported to Riyadh. The journey took more than twelve hours. Even leaving Doha did not feel simple. It felt like yet another layer in an already surreal week. Before I left, I also briefly spoke to a waiter from Myanmar, who told me how lonely life in Doha could feel. He said the working conditions were acceptable, but the lifestyle was repetitive and isolating. He hoped to leave in the next few years, and I remember wishing him luck.

Since then,

I have kept thinking about one question: why did this happen? Out of all the days in a year, why on the 28th? Maybe there was a reason, and maybe there was not. I think the wisest answer is that both can be true. Some things in life are simply probability. I travel often, so my chance of facing disruption is naturally higher. But meaning does not always come from why something happened. Sometimes meaning comes from how we respond to it. Doha did not just show me uncertainty. It showed me my own ability to stay calm, observe people deeply, and keep moving even when life became unclear. That, to me, is the real lesson.

When I look back, I realise my life has held many unusual moments over the past few years. Experiencing a 7.2 magnitude earthquake in Taiwan. I lost my work phone in South Korea and spent three days negotiating to get it back. Being in Japan during the period when people were anxiously waiting for a predicted earthquake that never happened. And now, being stuck in Doha during conflict. The more I reflect on all this, the less afraid I feel. In a strange way, I feel more curious about what life will show me next (haha). Not because I want chaos, but because I can now see more clearly how I respond to it.

What Doha taught me was not just about uncertainty, travel disruption, or even safety. It taught me something about myself. I used to think freedom was about movement, about being able to go wherever I wanted. But now I think freedom is also about how you stay grounded when your options are limited and you cannot move at all. This experience showed me that I can free myself from uncertainty by staying calm in chaos. And maybe that is one of the most important things I could learn.

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And for that, in a strange and unexpected way, I am grateful.

Thank you to the people I met along the way, even briefly, for sharing your stories with me. Thank you to myself for staying calm when things felt uncertain. And thank you to life, for reminding me that even in chaos, there is always something to learn.

C.