Field notes: From elsewhere — the layover tour

how 8 solo hours in doha, qatar shifted the way I travel

So remember last week when I told you I did a thing?

booking the layover on purpose

Eight hours between flights wasn’t a travel inconvenience—it was a strategy. A chance to add one more story to the trip.

I was heading to Cape Town for a wedding, said yes to it before checking flight times (my Year of Yes in full effect), and found myself negotiating with three unsexy options: multi-stop madness through the U.S. and Europe, a long wait in Heathrow (pass), or an equally long stop in Doha, Qatar.

The third option intrigued me.

Botanical gardens inside Hamad International Airport

the layover wasn’t a delay—it was a chosen pause

I’d heard things. Done the Reddit deep dive. People raved about the Hamad International Airport—botanical gardens, luxury lounges, insane efficiency. But then I found something better: the Doha layover tour. Turns out if your connection’s long enough, you can leave the airport and explore the city. Even get a complimentary hotel room.

And even better than that? You don’t have to take the tour. You can just go.

If you have a U.S. or other qualifying passport, it serves as your tourist visa at immigration.

So I planned for it. Prepped for it. Hyped myself up for it.

And then…I got nervous.

lounge nerves and deep breaths

Showered, sipped some liquid courage, and tried to talk myself out of the anxiety building in my chest. I’d planned this layover for over a month. I had this. But suddenly the lounge felt like a tempting trap. The familiar glow of comfort. Safety. Maybe I should just stay. Have a drink. Scroll. Be that girl.

But then I remembered—I chose this pause for a reason.

I dropped my tote in a locker, grabbed my passport, and headed for immigration.

getting out… slowly

Immigration took almost 90 minutes. One agent tried to charge me for a visa (which is free for U.S. passport holders). She got frustrated, passed me off to another line. I started second-guessing my life decisions.

But then—I was out.

I did not see not ONE crumb on the Doha Metro floors.

But I couldn’t figure out how to get to the train. A woman from Brazil who worked at the airport walked me there; kindness, without performance. The metro—spotless. Quiet. I got off at the first stop with apprehension not knowing where it would drop me or if I would be able to get an Uber.

Cool air. Open sky. Lots of stars. I got a Uber easily. It was there in less than 2 minutes.

souq lights and solo nights

I arrived at Souq Waqif around 9pm. It’s Qatar’s oldest and most iconic market—Qatari architecture, labyrinth alleys, ancient and alive at the same time.

I enjoyed dinner at Basta—Arabic coffee with dates, followed by chicken majboos—savory, familiar and comforting; and exactly what I didn’t know I needed. The scent of oud, rosewater, grilled meat—it was everywhere.

I met a woman named Constantina, from Chile as I was headed to the Pearl Monument and we walked together. We took photos of each other like we were old friends on vacation. She, bolder than me, insisted I get the shot, pose like I mean it. She reminded me: you only get here once.

what I noticed / what I learned

I’ve traveled solo—but usually with my kids. They’ve always been my confidence blanket. My buffer. My excuse to take up space.

But this time?

No buffer. No distraction. Just me, fully present, in a country I’d never been, walking through an evening that didn’t need me to prove anything.

And that felt… peaceful.

practical note

If you have 8+ hours in Doha or another long layover city (Istanbul or Abu Dhabi for example), do it. Immigration may take time, but the rest is seamless. Drop your bag at the lounge, take the metro to the next stop, grab an Uber to Souq Waqif. Wear something modest. Bring a little confidence. Or borrow some from a stranger. But seriously, if you’re nervous, give yourself grace. I didn’t leave until hours after I landed—and still had time to spare.

“You are allowed to enjoy the intermissions.”

final note

I got back to the airport around 11:45 for a 12:55 boarding time.

I retrieved my bag, breezed through security, and sat at the gate with a quiet sense of pride.

Not because I’d done something huge.

But because I’d done something small—on purpose.

And as I sat at the gate, the scent of the souk still clung to my scarf—a quiet souvenir of a night I chose to live fully.