Sleepy Saturday Sunrise
(Yaaaaaaaaaawwwwnnnnnnnnnn)
Ummmm. . . . morning . . . . 🙂 . . . Kuwait . . .
It is cool this morning, clear skies, another glorious Saturday in Kuwait.
Good Morning Kuwait, Thursday, 10 February 2011
Another glorious day in Kuwait:
Night before last, on my way home, we saw the most amazing sight. Many of you never go downtown at night, and if you do not, you are missing something you may never see again in such splendor in your lifetime – the lights for the celebration of 50 / 20 / 5. You know me – I love the lights, but this year, there are so many!
The most amazing, unbelievably breathtaking, is the clock tower at the Amiri Palace just off the big roundabout by the Grand Mosque downtown. I don’t know how they do it, I have never seen this effect before, but they are imposing mosaic tile patterns on the clock tower, and the images are intricate – and sharp. It has to be some kind of laser light, it is SO sharp, so beautiful, and it changes like every 30 seconds. We drove around the circle three times, we were so taken with it. Take some time out of your busy life to give yourself a treat, absolutely for free, and take your family downtown to see these lights. They will take your breath away.
This next one is blurry, but that’s what you get when it is raining and you are driving trying to get a shot, any shot, LOL. I just want you to see an example of one of the many patterns which shift on the tower. It is awesome to behold:
My voice is still mostly gone, too much talking, too much laughing. I keep telling my friends God wants me to be quiet and listen, but I can’t resist participating, and we have so much to catch up on . . . Time is flying past, I grab at moments, but I hear the whooooosh as the hours fly by . . . I feel so blessed to have time again with these women who have meant so much to me. We never know where our conversations will take us. As we stood outside, making farewells, I had this huge impression of strength and power in our connections, of being surrounded by angels. Each woman is so modest and each gives so much to the community, thinking it is too little.
Just when I think I cannot fit one more thing in, I discover one of my sweet young blogging women is in town, and though years separate us, she is the kind of friend that once you get talking, you pick right up where you left off as if there has been no year or two in between, my favorite kind of friend. I want to know what she is thinking, our conversations are always so thought-provoking for me. We can’t figure out exactly when, yet, but we know it’s got to happen. It’s just an amazing coincidence that we are both in town at the same time.
Another Gorgeous Day in Kuwait
Oh my friends, I am having such a good time. I have been getting together with my friends, one on one, and we have talked so much – or maybe it is the particulate content of the Kuwait air – that I have lost my voice, LOL.
Last night, I slept the entire night. I was able to get up early and have breakfast with my poor hard-working AdventureMan before he rushed off to another day of high level decision-making and problem solving. Me? Another play day in the great land of Kuwait. 🙂
Here is what life looks like at seven in the morning:
It is another great day in Kuwait.
When I checked Weather Underground for the Kuwait weather forecast, I found an ad for Wataniya’s Give Kuwait.com where people are submitting their own videos to celebrate Kuwait’s upcoming celebration, a four day holiday, February 24 – 28, celebrating 50 years of Independence, 20 years since liberation and 5 years under the rule of the current Amir. There are some really fun videos, some with old photos (you know how I love the historical photos!)
Dinner at Kuwait Magic
Kuwait is changing almost by the minute. I am awed by some of the new buildings downtown, apparantly finished, with huge, gravity defying sweeping curves that mirror the Gulf waters. For dinner, we decided to go somewhere that stays pretty much the same – Kuwait Magic.
Even many expats who live here have never been to Kuwait Magic; we rarely see other westerners there. I also think maybe there is a ban on bachelors; it is a very very traditional family mall, not at all fancy, but with a really fun children’s play area, and a restaurant that has Adventureman’s favorite stuffed vegetables.
AdventureMan thinks that is stuffed zucchini. It doesn’t look like zucchini to me, although it may be a variety of zucchini. I think it might be an Indian squash called something like snake squash. Anyone out there can tell me for sure?
In the US, you can find mechanical rocket ships, mechanical cars, mechanical horses that you can ride. In Kuwait Magic, there is a camel! It is a very high camel; if I were a child, I would be terrified to be up so high.
Good Morning, Kuwait :-)
“Bring lots of warm clothes,” my Kuwaiti friend warned me, “it’s really cold!”
When I stepped off the plane, in mid-day, it was a little chill, but gorgeous, my very favorite kind of day in Kuwait. AdventureMan was there to meet me, although the plane arrived a full hour ahead of its scheduled arrival, and he took me downtown, while the Friday traffic was still light. A BEAUTIFUL day in Kuwait.
I even have the photos to prove it, but they are on my other camera, the one I didn’t bring the right card reader for, oh aaarrgh. I will find one soon.
It is so sweet to be back.
We took a long walk along the water, and hit the spa, where I had aqua therapy on all my travel-sore muscles, and I slept fairly well through the night.
Today, it is another beautiful day in Kuwait, a sweet Saturday morning.
Good morning, Kuwait. I’ve missed you. 🙂
What’s Really Hood: A Collection of Tales from the Streets by Wahida Clark, et al
Sometimes do you pick up a book and you don’t really know why you did? I saw this book in Target, and picked it up on an impulse. I read the cover and thought “you know, this is way out of my culture and out of my comfort zone” but then I thought hey – it’s a sub-culture in my own country, and like isn’t it hypocritical to be so interested in other cultures and then to ignore this sub-culture in my own country? Plus, I had a friend called Wahida, . . . well, it doesn’t have to make sense. It’s just the way it was.
I read the whole book. Some of what I read was frankly repellant. Some of the sex was so implausible that I can’t tell if my ideas are just way out of step with the changing times (and there are clues that this may be the problem) or that this sub-culture just has constant, earth-shaking sex.
The book contains five very different stories, but there are threads of similarity that appear in all five. Drugs are rampant, and destructive to individuals, couples, families, children, friendships, marriages, and the social context. Parenting skills are often fragile or non-existent. The male-female relationships are mostly exploitive.
And they all dream of a better life.
I think that’s what kept me reading. The stories are raw. You might not even like them at all, you might wish you had never heard of this book, but there is an honesty in the rawness, and a yearning to escape. The goal of all the easy money in the drug trade is mostly to GET OUT, to run away to some place safe, to live in a place where gunshots aren’t heard, and where kids can safely go to school.
I learned a lot from reading this book, but it was not an easy read. It is gritty, and characters you find yourself liking get killed off. It’s also stuck with me; I find myself thinking about things it brought to my attention. I’d love for you to read it too, and tell me what you think.
The Glass Rainbow by James Lee Burke
“Here’s the book,” Sparkle said, sliding into the restaurant seat as we all poured over the menu, wafts of garlic, white wine and butter drifting our way. “I’m getting kind of tired of Dave and Clete.”
“What, you mean not just bending the envelope but tearing right through it?” I asked “Or all the gratuitous violence?”
“Mostly the scorn for official procedures,” she started, two little lines between her eyes as she took in all the delicious possibilities, “How about some of that Montepulciano?”
She passed the book along to me. I was in the middle of another book, but oh, the temptation to drop it and get on with a new James Lee Burke.
The book opens with Dave Robicheaux, our recovering alcoholic detective, meeting up with a convict on a work crew whose sister has disappeared and who was found murdered. Bernadette Latiolais’s remains are thought to be the work of a serial killer working the area who targets prostitutes, but Bernadette was an honor student, graduating with a full scholarship promised to a Louisiana university. She was also an heiress, in a small way, to some property at the edge of a swamp. She doesn’t fit the profile, and her brother wants justice – not for himself, he’s doing his time, but for his sister, who never did anything to anyone, and who wanted to create a conservation area to preserve bears.
Right off the top, Robicheaux is outside of his parish, investigating a case nobody cares about in an area out of his jurisdiction.
OK, OK, my sister is right, this is pretty much another formulaic James Lee Burke. There are the corrupt rich families, the amoral women, the voiceless victims. Instead of the old Italian organized crime families, this time there are hired mercenaries, equally creative in killing, but way more efficient in cleaning up afterwards.
I’m just a sucker for James Lee Burke’s writing. Here’s one sample, from his interview with a very rich old man who goes a long way back with Robicheaux’s family:
“Don’t get old, Mr. Robicheaux. Age is an insatiable thief. It steals the pleasures of your youth, then locks you inside your own body with your desires still glowing. Worse, it makes you dependent upon people who are half a century younger than you. Dont’ let anyone tell you that it brings you peace, either, because that’s the biggest lie of all.”
Burke’s Dave Robicheaux and his private-investigator friend Clete are flawed men, prone to violence, but I cut them a lot of slack because in each novel they are bright shining avengers of all the wrongs done to the weak and helpless. They are Quixotic. They fight the rich and powerful for the rights of the common man. They know the risks they take, and they are too old to think they are going to survive every bad guy they go after. It’s a good thing the law of averages doesn’t hold true in novels; they should have been dead a long time ago.
What keeps me coming back are the lyrical descriptions of life along the Atchafalaya Bayou, community life in New Iberia, Louisiana, and Robicheaux’s family life, wife Molly, daughter Alifair (now grown to young womanhood) and Snuggs their cat and Tripod their raccoon, as well as the knowledge that at the end of the book, in spite of every evidence to the contrary, Dave and Clete will emerge alive, if damaged, and their indirect and violent path will have achieved some semblance of justice.
(I ordered the spaghetti with a white-wine mussel sauce, and Sparkle ordered the chicken marsala. Mom had seafood diablo.)
Car Rental Fees Update
So here is how my car rental looked:
The ACTUAL charge was like $142 for the week. “Fees” and taxes came to an additional $76.85. It is SO misleading when you are quoted a car rental price and it doesn’t include those charges until the final tally. It’s OK for me, it’s just what I have to do, but I remember being young, and when an extra almost $77 might have been a really bad surprise.
The check-in person asked me how I liked the car – a Ford Focus. I told her I hated it. I know it’s being advertised as ‘better than Toyota’ but it isn’t. It drives like a boat. It is clunky feeling, and it doesn’t get great pick-up. When I first got in, I had to drive those extra narrow, extra fast lanes on Seattle’s crowded I-5 going North, and it was raining and water is swooshing off the tops of trucks (who were passing me) and I just hated the car.
Toyotas are more nimble. Toyotas have better pick-up. You know, I would rather like to buy American, but first the automakers have to show me that they have a car that makes you happy to be driving.
People kid me about my Rav4, that it’s a young people’s car, but you know, I love the way it drives, I love the way it grips the road and goes anywhere, and still remains small enough and nimble enough to park in a tiny little spot. It has a much bigger feel, and is so comfortable. The Ford Focus is just clunky.
BTW, I asked the check in person if it was legal for me to rent a car for a week to get the better rate and then to turn it in early. She just laughed and said “It’s not illegal; it’s SMART!”
Shoreline Foods in Pensacola
“Oh, it’s on Main Street!” our friend told us, “Or it used to be Main Street, but now part of it is Bayfront, or some such, but we all know it is Main Street.”
My resourceful daughter-in-law is always full of the best hints. She told us about a place she thought I would love, called Shoreline Foods, a grocery store, but the old fashioned kind, and Greek.
I’ve been trying to find it ever since, but as it turns out, I was looking in the wrong direction. I finally asked my friend who knows EVERYTHING; Shoreline Foods IS on Main, at Main and “E” St. very near to Joe Patti’s, just as she said.
From the outside, you would never know how special it is, it just looks like another strip mall kind of store, but lots of parking, always a good thing 🙂
They do carry groceries, and an entire aisle with spices you can’t find most other places, or not all in one place:
And they have a deli! With wonderful sandwiches!
Tantalizing desserts!
Kanafi is a Middle Eastern pastry, so hard it is to find, and here it is in Pensacola!
And for me, the very best part is this:
Here I am going to rant for just a little minute. Shopping for olive oil in the USA is the total pits. Even the “best” olive oils, when you read their labels, say that the oil comes from “Spain, Argentina and Tunisia” or some such. Blends. It gives you no guarantee that one month the oil is the same as the next month, or the quality of the oils they are using.
I challenge you! Go to your grocery store and look for an olive oil that tells you it is from one country! Even the specialty shops; few of them have single point of origin olive oils! But at Shoreline Foods, they import an olive oil from Crete (Greece) which is green and fruity and tasty! You can buy it by the litre, or half litre, or the gallon. 🙂 Even better, you can bring your own container and fill it in the shop.
When I lived in Tunisia, I used to do that. Go to the olive oil man (first make sure he has had a delivery; like an oil truck pulls up and fills his barrel) and then grab your container and go stand in line with all the maids until he will fill your container. At Shoreline Foods, there was no line, but lovely lovely olive oil from Crete! I am in heaven!
‘Lost Boy’ Casts Vote for Independence
I found this today on NPR News and it delights me for a number of reasons. For one thing, I didn’t know David Eggars (you remember him from Zeitoun) had helped with the writing of ‘What Is The What?’. Second, who knew that any of these kids would survive? Survive, write a book, thrive, go back to the Sudan, give to the country – and vote. Every now and then in this sad world you hear a good story. This is one.
January 10, 2011
During Sudan’s civil war, in which some 2 million people died, Valentino Achak Deng fled to Ethiopia on foot. Separated from his family for 17 years, Deng is one of Sudan’s so-called Lost Boys, children who were orphaned or separated from their families during the brutal war.
Now, voting is under way in Southern Sudan in a referendum that is expected to split Africa’s largest country. Among those voting this week are the Lost Boys, including Deng, whose life became a best-selling novel in America and who has returned to his homeland to build a school.
After a peace agreement between north and south, Deng returned to Juba, the capital of Southern Sudan, in 2006. He says when he got there, the place was still a wreck.
“On some of these roads, you could see old war tanks. On some of these roads, in some neighborhoods you could see the bones and skulls of dead people,” he recalls now, driving around Juba.
Now, as Southern Sudan appears headed for independence, Deng is optimistic — and Juba looks a lot better. Paved roads, now lined with hotels and restaurants, arrived for the first time in 2007.
Juba is a booming city, one of incredible contrast: Barefoot women selling piles of gravel by the side of the road sit next to a Toyota dealership.
Peace is spurring investment and consumer demand. Juba’s growth is driven by Southern Sudan’s oil revenue as well aid from foreign governments and nongovernmental organizations.
Deng grew up in a tiny village called Marial Bai. In the 1980s, northern bombers and Arab militias came.
“They bombed Marial Bai, destroyed it, killed everything, burned crops and livestock,” he says.
Deng was there when the fighting came. He says he “ran away with the rest.” He was 9 years old.
Deng joined thousands of Lost Boys, who spent months trekking across Sudan to refugee camps in Ethiopia. His experience is captured in What Is the What, a novel by Dave Eggers, which reads like a modern-day story of Job.
The boys, some naked, march across an unforgiving landscape, facing Arab horsemen, bombing raids, lions and crocodiles.
Deng eventually resettled in the U.S., where he attended college and was mentored and sponsored by ordinary Americans.
In 2007, he returned to start a high school in Marial Bai, where there was none.
“We have 250 students. Our annual budget now stands at about $200,000 because the school is free,” he says.
The school is funded by Deng’s private foundation. He says most donations come from Americans touched by his story and the plight of Southern Sudan.
Deng, now 32, has just cast his vote for independence. He says that for a Sudanese child of war, his life’s journey is almost inconceivable.
“I never imagined I would be the person I am right now,” he says.
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