I asked a waiter at a restaurant at my hotel in Doha (he was Indian) for a Tabbulah plate. He brought me a Fattush plate instead. I said: that this was Fattush and not tabbulah. He insisted that this was indeed tabbulah. I told him that it was not, and I had to tell him that i come from the Tabhulah homeland where tabbulah and hummus grow on trees. He believed me, and finally got me a real Tabbulah plate. When he did: I exclaimed: but this is Fattush. He looked so confused and puzzled. But (after a long pause), I did tell him that i was kidding. I am not sure that he liked my sense of humor. Deep inside me, I did chuckle. (I dont like the word chuckle).