What am I doing here, travelogue, day 4: from the world of niceness to some trouble with the police

Four days until the start of world It’s inside Qatar, as I told you in previous expeditions, the World Cup fever hasn’t finished boiling -and that the weather is still favorable for such purposes-. In addition to the heat and the eternal highways – self-censorship prevents me from telling you how I got lost thanks to the GPS at three in the morning and how I almost entered an avenue like a champion – there is a striking situation. At least in my cropped view, without all the passport stamps I would have liked.

The perception is that in the company there are many, too many people to serve and look after. They are all ultra hospitable, yes, and they all speak English through and through. The question that was bothering me (or not) was whether it had always been like this or whether it was a momentary overpopulation due to the balloon.

VOTE 1 or VOTE 2? I will not elaborate: VOTE 2.

One month ago, The population was about 2.7 million people and these days it has grown exponentially to about three million. For this reason, as an Argentinian who lives and knows Doha explains perfectly, there are, for example, three managers per restaurant when in reality there is always one. It’s not bad, of course. A flood of tourists is arriving and you need to have hands to contain them. When the fans leave, everything will go back to normal.

The city is full of cops and in most hotels you have to pass your luggage through a scanner. With uniform and without uniform but with traditional clothing, with turban and abaya. And also a lot of private security. The latter have a slogan. You can’t stand still. We stop for a moment in an awkward place and, immediately, as if by magic, some cash approaches us to suggest that we resume our march. “Come on, come on, Lamolina.”

There is, above all, a lot of suspicion on the subject of taking pictures. Something that special envoys, generally with curious eyes, never stop doing. Everything still amazes. Luckily. Those of us accredited have special permission to move freely anywhere – except those that are fenced off by FIFA – and we also have permission to record images that others cannot take.

But not everything is so easy. In the last few hours, the image of a Danish journalist has gone viral on social media who, cornered by two policemen, one in uniform and the other in plain clothes, cornered him and asked to delete the images that the cameraman had just registered. . It was not an isolated case.

Envoys of clarion We have already been victims of this excessive suspicion. It happened at the IBC, on the first day, when the enthusiasm to collect the accreditation and show it on social networks with the happiness of children with a new chiche was stopped by an officer with bad manners. “No photos, no videos,” he warned her with a grim face.

And it has been repeated in the last few hours, in search of the outskirts of the University of Qatar, the place that will be the home of the national team as long as this dream lasts, which is getting stronger day by day. The situation was too similar to the scene experienced by the Danish colleague. And it was, to say the least, disturbing.

We were in the car and suddenly when we braked, a screaming security intercepted us. He hit the passenger window and asked for the phone we were showing the seat on. They forced us to delete the file and prove that we had indeed deleted it. We asked him why and the answer was clear: “You can’t register the faces of security officers”. They didn’t believe us and asked us for the phone number to check. And there who surpassed himself was the man in uniform. The policeman, the one in plain clothes, challenged him for slapping his cell phone. And he ended up offering us an apology. One scene, at least, rare.

It’s like a slide. From hospitality heaven to excessive suspicion with malicious cell phones. It remains to be seen if all these security measures will be maintained once the World Cup starts and the crowds of fans from all over the planet do what they want with the passion for football as a (crude) excuse.

Doha, Qatar. Special delivery.