“I’m A Third Culture Kid, Are You?”
Most of those who read my blog are not Kuwaiti, and it is for you that I am writing this post. So many of you who read me are also “Third Culture Kids.” My blogging friend Amer just wrote a post by the above title, and whoa! The responses will blow you away! Please go to I am a Third Culture Kid, Are You? and check in with your story – where you came from and where you are today.
And how being a third culture kid has affected your life. This is one of the best blog entries I have read.
The book from which the term Third Culture Kids comes from is mentioned in an earlier blog entry of mine, Chicken Nuggets and Big Macs and is by David C. Pollock and Ruth E. Van Reken. You can find it at Amazon.com. If you are a third culture kid, you might want to buy two or three – you will keep giving them away. The book is that good.
Germany’s culture of shopping slowly changing
Little Diamond forwarded this to me from the Chicago Tribune. The battle to extend shopping hours in Germany has been going on for years. As the hours increase, the annual birthday celebrations described in the preceding blog entry will pass into “olden day traditions.”
By Tom Hundley
BERLIN – Unlike America, Germany has not yet adopted the shop-till-you-drop lifestyle, but things are starting to change.
Even in bustling cities like Berlin and Frankfurt, retailers used to roll up the sidewalks at 6:30 p.m. On weekends, Germans had to scramble to get their shopping done by 2 p.m. on Saturday. Sunday shopping was strictly verboten.
But a long battle over longer store hours is slowly being won by retailers who believe that more hours mean more money in the cash register. They are opposed by Germany’s powerful trade unions whose leaders say workers’ rights must be protected.
The gradual loosening of strict rules governing store hours also reflects a larger battle to loosen up a German economy that suffers from sluggish growth and 9.6 percent unemployment. Chancellor Angela Merkel’s government says it is eager for reform, but it has decided to leave the issue of store hours to local governments.
These days, the Galeria Kaufhof, a newly renovated department store in the heart of the former East Berlin’s shopping district, is crowded with customers until 10 p.m.
“Seven years ago we started a small revolution here in Berlin when we said we are opening on Sundays,” said Detlef Steffens, the store manager.
“We discovered a loophole: according to the law, you could open on Sunday if you were selling souvenirs, so we put stickers that said `souvenirs’ on all the merchandise,” he said.
“We were sued by other store owners. But that started an avalanche.”
Steffens’ store took its case to Germany’s federal constitutional court. The court rejected its arguments but said the particulars of Sunday shopping hours should be regulated by local authorities.
The Berlin city government decided to allow stores to open on six Sundays a year. Last year, it extended the number to 10, plus three extra Sundays during the World Cup soccer tournament.
Last November, Berlin threw caution to the wind and adopted a modified version of America’s 24/7 consumer ethos. Call it 24/6 – non-stop shopping for six days of the week and 10 Sundays.
The Galeria has opted to stay open until 8 p.m. Monday through Wednesday and until 10 p.m. Thursday through Saturday. The extra hours have increased revenue and enabled the store to hire 50 more employees, for a total of 1,080.
Steffens says his employees have generally been supportive of the longer hours.
“It’s an East-West thing,” he said, referring to the lingering psychological divide that still separates Germans who grew up in prosperous West Germany from those who experienced communist East Germany.
Almost all of Steffens’ employees are from the East. Those from the West, he said, are more likely to resist changes proposed by management.
“The trade unions are not so different from East to West, but worker councils in the East are more realistic. Here there’s more of a collective mentality: We are one team; it means our jobs,” he said.
Cornelia Hass, a spokeswoman for Ver.di, a large trade union that represents service employees, says the union’s position is that “everyone should have the liberty to work (non-traditional hours), but nobody has to work these hours.”
Hass disputes the argument that more hours mean more revenue and more jobs.
“People don’t buy more just because they can do it 24 hours a day. You can only spend the euro in your pocket once,” she said.
While acknowledging that store hours have to reflect people’s changing lifestyles, she said Germany already has “more square meters of shopping opportunity per consumer than Europe or the United States” and that fierce competition among retailers was forcing them to trim personnel.
There’s also a quality-of-life issue.
“I really believe that Sunday is the day when everyone who doesn’t need to work, shouldn’t work,” Hass said. “Society needs to lay back for one day, to find time for friends and family.” She also noted that of the 3 million retail workers represented by Ver.di, 80 percent were women, and most had families.
“They need their Sundays,” she said.
The union is supporting three retail workers who have filed a lawsuit challenging Berlin’s new Sunday opening hours.
But most of Germany’s 16 federal states appear to be following Berlin’s example and extending store hours.
Some small merchants are worried, fearing that extended hours by large retailers will force them to attempt the same.
“It’s a problem for us,” said Michael Turberg, who owns a Berlin toy store famous for model trains.
“We are rather specialized and we need staff of high quality. When you are open longer, you need more staff of high quality. It’s not easy to find staff, and it’s not easy to pay them.”
That’s not a problem for Mohamed Wehbe and his family. Immigrants from Lebanon, they run a small shop that sells snacks, groceries, cigarettes and newspapers. It’s open 365 days a year.
When they started their business a few years ago, and kept it open until midnight, they got a polite letter from Berlin authorities advising them to observe the legal opening hours.
“We didn’t know about such laws,” said Wehbe.
Under the new law, the shop is open from 6 a.m. until midnight.
For Wehbe and many other immigrant entrepreneurs, there are scarcely enough hours in a day for earning money.
“This summer,” he said, “we’re going 24/7.”
A Special Birthday in Germany
Birthdays aren’t my favorite days, and in spite of that, I’ve had some really good ones. The best birthday I can remember, ever, came as a gift of sharing that totally blew me away.
I was living in a small German village. Little by little, I mastered enough German to be able to interact with the villagers, who were very kind to me. They included my husband and I in the village events, including private birthday parties, which in Germany, are a BIG deal.
Birthdays are YOUR day. Every woman in the village brings a cake – or two. Competition to provide the fanciest, most lucious cake is keen. The cakes are not overly sweet, but are incredibly full of fresh cream. And of course, it is rude not to try a little of everyone’s cakes . . . all eyes are all watching.
The two women in the village who took care of me were my landlady and her mother-in-law, who lived in a house just across the courtyard. My landlady sang in the village choir, which performed at a variety of locations throughout the year – festivals, local events, schools – and at 50th birthday parties. The 50th Birthday Party was very special. The whole choir would sing JUST for the birthday girl.
It was a very small village. Everyone knew everyone. Some people didn’t speak because their grandmother didn’t speak to someone else’s grandmother. People carried grudges for a long time. Memories were long, and tongues were longer. My landlady’s protection was very valuable to me, an outsider in the village, who might, from time to time, violate customs without even knowing about it.
My husband and I were leaving Germany, after four years in the village. It was around this time of the year, the cold cold of winter in Germany. One evening my landlady came down and asked us to come to her birthday party the next night – our birthdays are only two days apart, and we had often celebrated together. We were delighted for the invitation, as we knew the choir would be seranading our landlady.
There was a lovely catered sit-down dinner. Everyone was in dress-up clothing, and the wine and beer were flowing. We knew it would be our last dinner in the village, and we felt so honored to be included.
And then the choir arrived. The choir master made a speech to our landlady, congratulating her on her special birthday and giving her a long list of good wishes. And then he turned to us, and said that tonight our landlady was sharing her birthday with me, and they would sing two songs for us on our departure.
This was her special day. Her 50th birthday is the day the whole village would honor her. It only happens once in your lifetime. And she shared it with me.
The choir sang “The Gypsy Wanderers”, and truly, it was appropriate for my husband and I, departing for our next life in Doha. From the first notes, I cried. I’ve never minded my vagabond life, but for that brief moment, I regretted not having the kind of deep roots that kept me anchored in one place. I would never have a village singing for my 50th birthday; I had never earned that honor. And my landlady gave it to me, simply, without fanfare, sharing the honors she had earned day by day, living in the village. She gave it expecting nothing in return for it, sheerly for the joy of sharing.
A Tale of Two Cities: Kuwait and Doha
Departing Kuwait was chaos. The gates down which you walk straight into the plane seem to be non-operational, and the teeming hoardes are shipped out to the planes in buses. At gates 22-23, security was clearing people for flights to Dubai, Muskat, China and Doha, all at the same time.
People would crowd toward to gate, only to be told “Not Now! Not Now! Now is Muskat!” “Now is Doha!” “over there is China!” but as some people spoke neither English nor Arabic, there was mass confusion. Planes, unable to depart on time because passengers had not been boarded, were only steps from the airport, but still, passengers were boarded onto buses and taken out. Sheer chaos.
Arrival in Doha was smooth, if quirky. In Doha, if your baggage is marked Priority or Business, it comes off the plane last. Not just this time, but the entire time I lived in Doha, this uniqueness was the rule rather than the exception.
Doha has the Miss America entrance just like Kuwait, and fortunately my friends were there to greet me and whisk me away. But in Doha, unlike Kuwait, the exit is chaos. Private cars are waiting for arrivals, taxis, limos, and a thousand laborors stand dazed at the exit, waiting to be told what to do. Threading our way through the chaos, we race for the car and exit, making our way into the city where we meet our husbands for dinner.
It was a very short trip, but I have a few more Doha photos to share with you. The Doha skyline is changing dramatically. Here is the new Museum of Islamic Art, due to open shortly – notice anything?
This is the new Qatar Center for the Presentation of Islam building – it includes a mosque, library, coffee shop and meeting rooms (the one on the left):
This is the first we have seen of dhows being built in the old way in Doha:
Last, the continually changing Corniche skyline:
Qatar Air Doha 1st Class Lounge
This is the jacuzzi for wearied women travellers . . .
Bring it ONNNNNN!
This is where you sleep if you have a couple hours to kill:
And this is where you eat – and the food is YUMMY:
You check in seated at a desk, then go through customs to the duty-free and the excalator upstairs. At the top of the stairs you are directed to the left for Business or the Right to the First Class Lounge.
From the moment you walk in, the atmosphere in the First Class Lounge is soothing and spa like. Sheets of cascading water down glass walls, ethereal soft music, and all watery colors. Easy to fall asleep, and it’s OK, because they come and get you, personally, when you need to board for your flight. Amazing. Kinda the ultimate.
Naaahhhh, I don’t travel first class all the time. Had to get someplace, weren’t any other tickets available. Enjoyed it all the way.
What Happens Next?
I love reading the paper in a foreign country. It often reveals a different way of thinking. Often I am mystified; there is a context in which the article is written that you may “get” while I do not. As I read the Kuwait Times there are many times I wonder “what happens next?” Rarely do we get any follow up, rarely do we know the ultimate outcome of these incidents. These are all from today’s paper(24 Jan 2007):
1. The ‘Other’ Woman
A woman after suspecting her husband of infidelity, decided to keep tabs on him, and followed him to a spring camp in the Jdailiyat area and was shocked when she found her fears had turned into reality when she caught him red-handed in the arms of the ‘other’ woman. The wife immediately summoned police who rushed to the camp and also found out that he was under the influence of alcohol. In a fit of rage, he also smashed the police car’s windowpane to smithereens. He was referred to the relevant authorities.
My comment/questions: Infidelity is a painfully personal kind of behavior. Why would the police be called? Would you call the police if you want to salvage a relationship, or bury it? Does involving the police help in a divorce settlement? Will the husband normally be shamed and repentant, or angry and defiant? Are there processes to help a husband and wife save their marriage? And what happens to the other woman? Does it depend on who she is and what her nationality is? And wouldn’t a wife be afraid to confront her husband in that situation, would she be placing herself in physical danger?
2. Daughter Reveals Affair
A 47-year old Kuwaiti woman lodged a complaint with Mubarak Al Kabeer police that another Kuwaiti who works for the National Guard had several sexual intercourses with her 16 year old daughter in her own room, whenever she went out on errands. She said that her daughter confessed to her and revealed her affair our of her fear that she might be pregnant after which her lover might dump her. The man is being summoned for further interrogation.
My comment/questions: Why does it matter how old the woman is making the complaint? Why is that on the public record? If the girl is pregnant, what happens next? Can she raise her child as a single mother here in Kuwait? Is there a possibility that the girl will marry her National Guard lover? If not, what are her chances for marriage? Can she continue school if she is pregnant?
3. Mother Accused of Kidnapping
A 60 year old Arab lodged a complaint with Jabriya police that his 55 year old Iraqi divorcee had kidnapped their two sons. He produced a court order that authorized him custody of the boys and that their divorced mother showed up in his absence, along with her older sons from an earlier marriage and took the boys away. The father filed a kidnap case against his ex-wife althought Kuwaiti family laws do not under any circumstance permit accusing a mother of kidnapping her own children, even if the father had the legal custody rights.
My comment/questions: Why list the ages of the complaintant and his wife, but not the ages of the boys? How can the father file a case, if Kuwaiti law specifically states a mother cannot kidnap her own children? Do the boys have any choice of which parent they would want to live with? If the wife is 55, isn’t it likely that the youngest “boy” is around 15? (I would think it’s pretty hard to kidnap teenage boys.) Do parents often have heated contests over their children in Kuwait? Does shared custody work here?
Protestors for Hire
Fresh in from this morning’s BBC News:
Germans put price on protesting
They refuse to rally for neo-Nazis, but as long as the price is right a new type of German mercenary will take to the streets and protest for you.
Young, good-looking, and available for around 150 euros (£100), more than 300 would-be protesters are marketing themselves on a German rental website.
They feature next to cars, DVDs, office furniture and holiday homes.
For some, these protesters show how soulless life has become. For others, they breathe new life into old causes.
Staging a protest
Their descriptions read like those on a dating site.
I would like to point out that not all protests will tally with my own point of view and I would like to distance myself from these
Demonstrators’ disclaimer
Next to a black and white posed picture, Melanie lists her details from her jeans size to her shoe size and tells potential protest organisers that she is willing to be deployed up to 100km around Berlin.
Six hours of Melanie bearing your banner or shouting your slogan will set you back 145 euros.
A spokesperson for erento.com was unable to say how many demonstrators had been booked since the service was launched earlier this month, but that there had certainly been demand.
Organisations using the service are unlikely to reveal themselves, keen to pass off their protesters as genuine supporters of the cause. But German media reported a Munich march had hired protesters because its own adherents were too old to stand for hours waving banners.
Erento.com stresses that no protester needs to offer their services to a cause they object to, and therefore many may genuinely believe in the protest they are joining.
But the fact they are paid has perturbed a number of commentators in Germany, especially those who remember the passion-fuelled protests of 1968.
“It seems to confirm the increasingly common assumption,” wrote one, “that democracy is for sale”.
My Comment:
What would such a service look like in Kuwait?
“Will protest for Gucci?”
“Available for the right cell phone?”
“Protestors available in designer abayas?”
Or would they all be brought in from the Phillipines, Nepal, Indonesia, Bangladesh, contracted in multiples of 100?
Weather Underground
We all have routines that get us through the things we do every day, things we do almost without thinking. You get up, you take care of your morning ablutions, fix some coffee, and then, in my case, you check e-mails, read the day’s selections from the lectionary, check the blog, and check the weather.
Part of my routine is Weather Underground. I like it so much, I added it to my blogroll, over there to the right. When I click, I get Kuwait Weather, first thing, but over on the left are all my favorite cities where I have family and friends – Seattle, Pensacola, Doha (Qatar), Mfuwe (Zambia), Colorado Springs, Zanzibar . . . all at a glance. With one click, I can see what the weather will be there, too.
And for any other city I’m travelling to, I can just type it in and it will take me there.
When my son was getting married, I could check the weather for many years back to see how hot it generally gets on that day in that city – it gave me a range for which to pack.
I’ve tried a lot of other weather sites, but this one has the things I need. It’s part of my daily routine. You can find it here.
Mayonnaise, Aioli and Rouille
Home Made Mayonnaise – The BEST!
You are in Concarneau, a beautiful fishing village in the Breton part of France, and you are waiting for your frites. But it is not the frites that are taking so much time – the frites vendor is out of mayonnaise, and he is whipping up a fresh batch.
He uses a wire whisk, and starts dropping just tiny tiny drops of olive oil into the egg yolks, adding a little more, a little more, until it becomes a thin stream, and then a thicker stream, but the whisk never stops. The end result? Pure magic. Not quite so solid, but nothing like the mayonnaise we know.
We all know that mayonnaise substance that comes out of jars we buy at the grocery store. White to pale yellow, taste varying from fairly tasteless to a little vinegar-y. It’s best for helping wash sandwich meat down, but doesn’t really have a lot to recommend it.
French mayonnaise is totally different. It has TASTE! It’s hard to say which tastes better, the hot fresh French frites (fries) or the homemade mayonnaise, but as a combination – oh man, it is unbeatable. It’s fresh, it’s made with the best ingredients. And because it’s olive oil, well the fat calories aren’t quite so unhealthy. Right.
Here is the best news of all – you can have that same great tasting mayonnaise. With the advent of the blender, you don’t even have to separate the eggs from the yolks – the whipping motion of the blades emulsifies the oil and the eggs and acid (and flavorings)
Basic Mayonnaise
2 eggs
2 Tablespoons lemon juice (or vinegar, or balsamic vinegar)
1 Teaspoon prepared mustard (not powder)
1 Teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups olive oil
(The very most important ingredient is the olive oil; use a very good olive oil, one with lots of taste. In my heart, I think French mustard {not French’s} is the best, and Sel de mer – French salt. If you’re going to make good mayonnaise, go all the way. Do it right. And have fun.)
Break eggs into blender container, add the acid (lemon juice or vinegar), mustard and salt. Turn blender on low. Let the blender blend about 30 seconds before adding tiny drops of olive oil. Add drops very slowly, letting the blender do its thing.
Take your time. From tiny drops, let the olive oil stream into the blender container in a tiny thin stream, and then a slightly thicker stream. The secret to success here is always taking it slow and easy, letting the eggs and acid emulsify the oil. About 3/4 way through the process, the mixture will suddenly thicken. Keep adding the olive oil slowly, until it is all incorporated.
At this point the mixture may still be pourable. Homemade mayonnaise is a little runnier than the kind you buy in the store. Pour it into clean jars and store it in the refrigerator immediately – it will thicken up as it refrigerates.
Disaster: It happens, even if you’ve been making mayonnaise for years. The solution is SO simple. Pour the mixture – it will look like salad dressing with pieces in it – into another container and wash the blender container thoroughly, with soapy water. Break another egg into the container – that’s all. Nothing else. Start the blender, and this time, go a little slower. The secret to making this work is going very very slowly, especially at the beginning. Trust me, the process itself is so fast that you can afford to pour slowly. And oh! the results! You are going to be addicted to your own mayonnaise.
Advanced Mayonnaise
Before you go any further, I want you to successfully make mayonnaise three times. You can put it in pretty jars and give it away; people will love it.
Aioli
The French in Provence, particularly in Marseilles, have a dish that I think was created just to eat mayonnaise. It is called “Aioli”, the same name as the name of the mayonnaise sauce served with it. The entire meal is cooked salt cod, and a variety of cooked vegetables, all served with liberal dippings into the aioli sauce.
To make Aioli, you pop four or five (peeled!) cloves of garlic in with the eggs and acid before you start adding the oil. It’s that simple. (Some people add breadcrumbs. I don’t.) Aioli is also good – GREAT – with turkey, on sandwiches, as a dip for vegetables, oh any excuse will do . . . it is SOOOO good.
Most sources say aioli can be kept about two weeks, refrigerated. Mine never lasts that long.
Rouille
Rouille is served atop a big bowl of Bouillabaisse (French fish soup with whole fish pieces). It is a fiery spicy hot mayonnaise.
Start as if for aioli, then add two teaspoons cayenne pepper. If your family likes things hot hot hot, you can add some of the ground red pepper pieces like you find in the spice markets, or you put on pizza slices in Italian restaurants – it gives it a little more texture. You can also add a piece or two of roasted red peppers, for more intense color. Add the pepper BEFORE you start adding the oil.
Again, some people add breadcrumbs. I don’t.
Fixing a Mayonnaise Failure
A very humid day can make mayonnaise problematic. The heavy atmosphere of an impending thunderstorm can make good emulsification impossible. Accidentally adding too much oil or having the eggs too cold can make a mayonnaise curdle. It doesn’t happen often, but don’t despair. It’s fixable. Just start over, with one egg, and slowly, slowly adding that curdled mixture. You will be amazed at how easy this is.
Even your first time, when you are nervous, it won’t take an hour, start to finish. By the time you’ve done it a time or two, it won’t take half an hour, from getting out the blender to putting the jars of fresh, delicious homemade mayonnaise into the refrigerator. And you will be ridiculously proud of yourself.
There are no preservatives, no added chemicals. I don’t know how long it will last, kept refrigerated – it just doesn’t last long enough to become an issue. C’mon. I dare you. Give it a try.
(Ooops – I just remembered, there is danger to some people from the use of raw eggs. Making mayonnaise with raw eggs isn’t right for everyone. You could get really sick.)
Taking “Normal” for Granted
Today a good friend sent a story about a guy driving a very expensive car and a kid hitting the car by throwing a brick. The guy stops his car, ready to kill, and the kid cries and says it was the only way he had to get his attention, he needs help getting his brother back into his wheelchair. The guy instantly goes from raging anger to compassion, and keeps the dent in the side of his car to remind himself that it shouldn’t take a brick to get his attention.
In the story, it says sometimes God uses a brick to get our attention.
I know, I know, you wonder where I am going with this.
It brings two very simple things to my mind. First, I have bored you more than once with my woes of jet lagging. Right now, I am sleeping great, although I am still falling asleep around nine at night, I am sleeping through the night. Thanks be to God! I wake up in the morning thankful for something so simple – a good night’s sleep.
Sleep isn’t so simple for those who suffer sleep deprivation – and their name is legion. My heart especially goes out to young mothers with their first baby . . . no one tells you how sleep deprivation can change your life. You think you can handle anything. Sleep deprivation is a big brick thrown into your life – it really gets your attention. Without adequate high quality sleep, life loses its lustre, and the simplest thing can be overwhelming.
Second, this is the time of year when many blogs feature colds and flu and lingering illnesses. I rarely get sick, but when I do – oh, I am such a baby. I don’t want concerned people around, I just want to be left alone to suffer. I just want the sickness to be OVER. And then, one day when it is gone – oh! how good it feels, just to be NOT sick! And I thank God for the every day blessing of good health!
We take so much for granted as we go through our daily lives. We forget how really good just being “normal” can be.
But maybe these are the bricks being thrown into our lives to get our attention, to help us to be thankful for our blessings?
Maybe slowing us down helps us to see things we might otherwise speed right by in the busy-ness of our active lives?
Maybe this is all a part of being thankful for the bad things that come into our lives, as well as the good? Alhamd’allah!
I think this is the first day of the Islamic New Year. If so, wishing my Moslem friends all the blessings of a new and, God willing, abundant and peaceful year.
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