“We Think We Are SO Hot”
The scene: Gulf Road, night, and these two “hotties” are weaving in and out, going through the red lights and busy looking everywhere but where they are going, checking to see if everyone can see how very cool they are. Oh – under the left arm of the guy in back is his helmet. The guy in front has his between his legs. How cool is that?
The tires on this very tired motorbike have no tread left. These two young men have no protective clothing on. They are hopped up on adreneline and eager to see and be seen.
Another Adventure in Arabic
Pressed for time and more than a little desperate, I ran a quick brush through my tangled hair and threw on something that would pass for modest and made a run for the local co-op, desperately hoping they would have what I needed and I would not have to make a much longer trip to the Sultan Center.
Making a quick check in all the obvious places, I don’t see it. I NEED for it to be there, so I make a careful and methodical sweep, analyzing for anything that might be what I am looking for. No such luck.
Three co-op workers are in the aisle where I am looking, so one asks if they might help me. And I am betting they don’t speak English. I can figure out how to ask for almost all of it, and I grab a can and figure out a work-around.
“Ana ashuf al sukre al . . . “(and I point to a word on the can.)
“Aaaaahhhhh!” Beams one man. “BOWDER! Bowder sukre!”
Ah yes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Bowder sukre.
“Sah!” I agree.
“Aeyyn al bowder sukre?” he asks his co-worker, who steps immediately to the shelf I was just minutely examining, and pulls off a small bag of exactly what I need. The bags are on the shelf piled high, shelf to shelf, with only the bottom ends showing, right next to similar bags of powdered coconut. Next time I will know.
(It looks to me like there is another word for powder, starting with an “m”; anyone want to help me out?)
Qatteri Cat Gets Bored
The Qatteri Cat remembers what it was like to live on the streets. He doesn’t remember the hunger, the thirst or the danger. What he remembers are the smells, and the great adventure.
When he first came to live with us, he often escaped. He could run out the back, up a tree and once over the wall, he was GONE. He always came back . . . unless, of course, he was stuck in someone’s back yard, or up a tree so tall he couldn’t figure out how to get down. We always knew when that happened – we could hear him yowling all the way home.
But now, he can’t get out. There are days when he yearns for the street, for the smells and strangeness of the great outdoors. We try to amuse him, and he humors us.
We hid one of his “babies” under the sack. It’s driving him crazy:
He pushes the sack, trying to get his baby:
Finally, he wins!
777
This week I saw an accident, and called 777. My experience was very positive – my call was answered on the first try, and although the lady didn’t speak English, we managed. The ambulance people called me, the police called me multiple times, the ambulance showed up, the police showed up. All in all, not bad.
It would have been better had I spoken better Arabic, but we all managed. One guy put me on the speaker phone and had everyone listen to me and then someone said what I was saying. It was one of those Woh is der Bahnhof experiences where they would keep asking me “Where? Where?” and I would tell them and tell them, and then they would say “”Oh! You are saying . . . ” and it would be EXACTLY what I had been saying! Exactly!
But I could also hear them smiling as they talked to me, and I was glad I knew a few words. I probably sound like a four year old, but a four year old with enough sense to make a much-needed call and get the police and ambulance where they are needed, al hamdullah!
Google Earth Fantasy Flight
The same good friend who shared the quotes with me, sent this connection yesterday to an 8 minute video compiled with music by a GoogleEarth fan who takes you to some of the oddities you can see with the high resolution of GoogleEarth, including sunbathers and what I can only describe as EarthArt.
The Kuwait Left Turn
I actually first came across the first left turn in Saudi Arabia, and would watch in horrified fascination at the stoplights. Saudi Arabian driving was the worst I have seen, ever, anywhere in the world, but the driving has some inner logic if you are there long enough to get used to it. (I had thought I would hate not driving, but in Saudi Arabia, I was happy not to drive.)
In Saudi Arabia, there was no respect for lanes at all. At a junction there might be four legal lanes; one marked for people turning left, one for people turning right, and two for going straight ahead, but when the light turned red, there would be six or seven or eight cars lined up, all squeezed together, almost door to door. If there is a space, a car will fill it.
And maybe four or five of those cars would turn left, but not necessarily the four cars closest to the left. One might be in the far right turn lane, but going left. Yes, there were accidents, but not so often as you would think.
In Kuwait, they have refined the right-turn-lane-left-turn down to an art. I’ve gotten so used to it I hardly notice it any more, and that is why I am blogging about it now, so I will have it down before it falls of the screen.
Here is how it works. The guy in the far right lane realizes he needs to turn left. First move – he turns the wheels left and inches forward. Second step – this is optional – he gets the attention of the guy to his left and indicates he needs to go left. This is done with a combination of desperate looking eyes and a hand motion. Third step – he continues inching forward. Last step – just as the light is about to change/is changing he shoots out into the intersection, across four lanes of traffic, making his left turn.
There’s no honking. People are used to it.
That the lane second to the left also often goes left, although it is marked to go straight ahead, is a given.
It happens so often, we take it for granted.
The second variation on a left turn is that in Kuwait there are long stretches between stoplights or roundabouts, but there are conveniently marked areas where you can make a u-turn. There are left turn lanes that make it easy. But often, there are people who don’t want to get in line, or maybe realize too late that this is where they need to turn. No problem. They just get right up next to you and start edging their way in. It can be really scary when that someone is a big cement truck, or a bus full of workers.
Sometimes there can be two or three cars making that left turn at the same time. You would think it would be a disaster, and somehow, it all seems to work.
All this is . . . . very creative, refusing to be limited to what the law says is permissible. The problem becomes switching tracks when you go back to a country where the laws are less flexible.
Adventures in Driving: Kuwait
I found this great road, 303, that goes all the way from Mishref to Fehaheel. It is a little slower than 30 (Fehaheel Expressway) or 40, with more stop lights, but I like it because it is like a European boulevard, several lanes in each direction, divided with a barrier, and it has a lot of public art – cool and interesting sabilles (the places put up for the people passing by to drink water) and all kinds of models of ships. It’s a nice drive.
(i am discovering that there are several of these roads in Kuwait; you just have to find them. If you always take the same route, you can miss some amazing sights.)
I was stopped by police checks twice, whipping out my freshly legal driver’s licence. At the second stop, every vehicle was stopped – except for the ATV with two boys on it that got on who got on somewhere in the south and went all the way to Mishref. The first I saw them was when they went whizzing by me at the second police check.
That’s them, over to the right, by the sign, with another car behind them. It wasn’t easy to get their photo because they were really hauling. Their little ATV was going faster than any of the cars on the road, and they didn’t bother stopping for red lights, or police checks.
I didn’t think those things had that much power. But I am also wondering why, when the police saw them, they didn’t stop the boys? These kids had no business being on a highway, no licenses, no helmuts, no protective clothing, on a vehicle going as fast as an average car. And they weren’t that easy to see – it was dusk. To their credit, they stayed in the right lane, and they did look both ways before going through the red lights.
I was amazed at how fast that little thing went.
Bloggers Search for Anonymity
On Friday, 13 April, BBC published a report by David Reid about bloggers need for anonymity. Because in many countries of the world the government is trying to track and limit bloggers, he recommends a handbook published by the media rights group, Reporters Without Borders, called The Handbook for Bloggers and Cyber-Dissidents.
You can read the article by clicking on the blue type above. Reporters Without Borders offers the booklet as a free download when you click here.
Reporters Without Borders has it’s own website here where they summarize some of the main events of each day. They also keep a tally of the number of people worldwide who are imprisoned for blogging related activities.
Kuwaiti Customs
As we came in through Kuwaiti Customs, I had a few seconds concern – would the vanilla I had packed among my cosmetics be detected? Would my vanilla be confiscated (it contains a tiny bit of alcohol)? Would my DVD’s be objectionable? Would my books be a problem (in addition to the fact that I can barely lift my suitcase)?
I needn’t have worried. Everyone is so well trained, the bags are loaded on the conveyer belt, into the machine, and gathered on the other side. My husband is chuckling and I ask “what’s so funny?” and he says:
“There’s no one checking the bags.”
And he was right. Bags were going through the screening machine – and there was NO ONE there watching the screen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In spite of all the NO SMOKING signs in the airport, I smelled like cigarettes when I got home, just from the time waiting in the airport for the bags to arrive. I hate it. One guy waiting for his bags made it a point to blow his smoke in my direction. Pure evil or just bad manners?
And at the exit, pure chaos. Huge police presence – squad cars, lights flashing, lots of police – and they are doing nothing! They are greeting their friends, chatting – but no traffic flow control, and we all know how quickly the airport arrivals and departure areas can gridlock.
Our taxi driver was an older guy, not friendly. He got us home in nine minutes, normally a 20 – 30 minute drive. Ahhhh, Kuwait!
Breakfast at the Scenic Diner
We love places like the Scenic 90 Diner, in Pensacola, Florida, where local people go to meet and exchange news and gossip and to “chew the fat”. This diner was no exception. They had great breakfast foods – the $3.99 Scenic Special had two eggs, any way you like them, grits or fried potatoes, toast or biscuit, and you could add bacon or sausage for just a little more. They also had a fruit bowl and a granola/yoghurt special for the tennis Moms, but it looked to me like most of them were having the eggs special, too.
The outside looks like an old fashioned (but very modern and upscale) diner:
The interior was equally stylish:
And here were some friendly locals, willing to have their photos taken. They had never heard of “blogs” before:
You can see some of the black and white photos the owner has used to decorate the diner in the background. The food was excellent, individually prepared, the service was also good, and the entire experience reminded us of how good it is to have places in communities where people can gather or even just run into one another to catch up on local news. Prices were reasonable, although not as inexpensive as the chains – Denny’s, Waffle House, etc. We also really like it when the police are a part of the community, and not someone to be afraid of. The Scenic 90 Diner also serves lunch and dinner.
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