WoooooHooooooo CO-OP!
It’s hot. It’s humid. I drive to the co-op for a few small things and holy smokes! I see a spot to park, and it’s near the door! I start to park, and I see the handicapped sign, so I go around again, and find another spot about a million miles away. It’s ok, the walk is good for me.
But as I pass the handicapped spots, a car drives in and out pops a perfectly non-handicapped young woman and her two non-handicapped, fully capable daughters!
If looks could kill!
I don’t want to waste a lot of my time on resentment, so I move on.
This week, here is what I see at the co-op:
Wooooo Hoooooooo! Handicapped spots RESERVED for those who have special needs! Blocked off, so as not to tempt the rest of us! Wooooo HOOOOOOOOO, way to go, Co-op!
The Olive Oil Scandal
A good friend gave me a subscription several years ago to The New Yorker, and at the time I didn’t know how lucky I was. First, I loved the cartoons. A couple magazines later, I got pulled in by some of their excellent travel and political writing. Later, the fiction issues pulled me in and introduced me to authors I had never read before. In no time at all, I was totally addicted.
Now, when The New Yorker arrives, Adventure Man and I fight to see who gets to read it first! Often he wins; he skims it. He knows I will take too long getting through it.
It was the New Yorker magazine who informed me about the great olive oil scandal.
I love olive oil. I only use other oils in baked goods, where the olive oil might give an odd taste, we use olive oil almost exclusively. Or so I thought.
In the August 13 Issue of the New Yorker, Tom Meuller starts like this:
On August 10, 1991, a rusty tanker called the Mazal I docked at the industrial port of Ordu, in Turkey, and pumped twenty-two hundred tons of hazelnut oil into its hold. The ship then embarked on a meandering voyage through the Mediterranean and the North Sea. By September 21st, when the Mazal II reached Barletta, a port in Puglia, in southern Italy, its cargo had become, on the ship’s official documents, Greek olive oil. It slipped through customs, possibly with the connivance of an official, was piped into tanker trucks, and was delivered to the refinery of Riolio, an Italian olive-oil produce based in Barletta. There it was sold—in some instances blended with real olive oil—to Riolio customers
Between August and November of 1991, the Mazal II and another tanker, the Katerina T., delivered nearly ten thousand tons of Turkish hazelnut oil and Argentinean sunflower-seed oil to Riolio, all identified as Greek olive oil.
Riolio’s owner, Domenico Ribatti, grew rich from the bogus oil, assembling substantial real-estate holdings, including a former department store in Bari. He bribed two officials, one with cash, the other with cartons of olive oil, and made trips to Rome, where he stayed at the Grand Hotel, and met with other unscrupulous olive-oil producers from Italy and abroad. As one of Italy’s leading importers of olive oil, Ribatti’s company was a member of ASSITOL, the country’s powerful olive-oil trade association, and Ribatti had enough clout in Rome to ask a favor—preferential treatment of an associate’s nephew, who was seeking admission to a military officers’ school—of a high-ranking official at the Finance Ministry, a fellow-pugliese.
However, by early 1992 Ribatti and his associates were under investigation by the Guardia di Finanza, the Finance Ministry’s military-police force. One officer, wearing a miniature video camera on his tie, posed as a waiter at a lunch hosted by Ribatti at the Grand Hotel. Others, eavesdropping on telephone calls among Riolio executives, heard the rustle of bribe money being counted out. During the next two years, the Guardia di Finanza team, working closely with agents of the European Union’s anti-fraud office, pieced together the details of Ribatti’s crime, identifying Swiss bank accounts and Caribbean shell companies that Ribatti had used to buy the ersatz olive oil.
The investigators discovered that seed and hazelnut oil had reached Riolio’s refinery by tanker truck and by train, as well as by ship, and they found stocks of hazelnut oil waiting in Rotterdam for delivery to Riolio and other olive-oil companies.
The investigators also discovered where Ribatti’s adulterated oil had gone: to some of the largest producers of Italian olive oil, among them Nestlé, Unilever, Bertolli, and Oleifici Fasanesi, who sold it to consumers as olive oil, and collected about twelve million dollars in E.U. subsidies intended to support the olive-oil industry. (These companies claimed that they had been swindled by Ribatti, and prosecutors were unable to prove complicity on their part.)
You can read this entire fascinating article here: Tom Meuller: Slippery BusinessGive yourself plenty of time. It is an article well worth reading.
There is another good reference here: The Great Olive Oil Scandal from PalestinianOliveOil.org
Investigators have gathered evidence indicating that the biggest olive oil brands in Italy — Bertolli, Sasso, and Cirio — have for years been systematically diluting their extra-virgin olive oil with cheap, highly-refined hazelnut oil imported from Turkey. [1]
A 1996 study by the FDA found that 96 percent of the olive oils they tested, while being labeled 100 percent olive oil, had been diluted with other oils. A study in Italy found that only 40 percent of the olive oil brands labeled “extra-virgin” actually met those standards. Italy produces 400,000 tons of olive oil for domestic consumption, but 750,000 tons are sold. The difference is made up with highly refined nut and seed oils. [2]
EVEN THE BIGGEST OF THEM WILL MISLEAD THE PUBLIC…
“In 1998, the New York law firm Rabin and Peckel, LLP, took on the olive oil labeling misnomer and filed a class action suit in the New York Supreme Court against Unilever, the English-Dutch manufacturer of Bertolli olive oil. The firm argued that Bertolli’s labels, which read “Imported from Italy,” did not meet full disclosure laws because, even though the oil had passed through Italian ports, most of it had originated in Tunisia, Turkey, Spain or Greece. “Bertolli olive oil is imported from Italy, but contains no measurable quantity of Italian oil,” according to court documents.”
Curezone lists manufacturers of adulterated olive oil and marketers of the same oil. It is disgusting. We pay high prices for junk-olive oil. From Curezone.com/forums
The Guilty
Below is a list of known adulterated brands and dishonest distributors with links to information about their cases.
Adulterated brands of extra virgin olive oil
with country of origin
Andy’s Pure Olive Oil (Italy)
Bertolli (Italy)
Castel Tiziano (Italy)
Cirio (Italy)
Cornelia (Italy)
Italico (Italy)
Ligaro (Italy)
Olivio (Greece)
Petrou Bros. Olive Oil (California)
Primi (Italy)
Regale (Italy)
Ricetta Antica (Italy)
Rubino (Italy)
San Paolo (Italy)
Sasso (Italy)
Terra Mia (Italy)
Distributors caught selling adulterated olive oil
Altapac Trading
AMT Fine Foods
Bella International Food Brokers
Cher-Mor Foods International
D&G Foods
Deluca Brothers International
Gestion Trorico Inc.
Itaical Trading
Kalamata Foods
Les Ailments MIA Food Distributing
Lonath International
Mario Sardo Sales, Inc.
Petrou Foods, Inc.
Rubino USA Inc.
Siena Foods Ltd.
Vernon Foods
So who do we trust? How do we know that we are getting a quality, unadulterated product? This is fraud in an international scale!
Accident Aftermath
This time the crunch was different. This time, the initial BLAM crunch was followed by a heart-sickening series of crunches. I was on the phone dialing 777 even before I got to the window.
They have lovely women working for emergency services now, women who can stay calm and switch languages easily. Just hearing her voice calms me down as I report the accident, tell them to send an ambulance. The upside down car door is flipping open, and people are running to help the victim out. It’s a woman, and she is beautiful. She is also bleeding, and once they get her out, she is very still, too still.
The traffic police call me back and I tell them where the accident is, but thank God the woman is still on the phone and when he doesn’t understand, she fills in efficiently and accurately.
It takes them 21 minutes to arrive. The traffic police send one car, and on a busy street, they all gather around the woman and stare. The MOI also send a car. Not one of these police set up any kind of traffic control, cars on both sides of the road are stopping, people come running, just to look.
The ambulances take 22 minutes. When they leave, there are no sirens. I don’t think she survived. The medics appeared knowledgeable and efficient.
It’s the aftermath that bothers me now. On the ground, they left all the medical waste.
The last thing the medic did as he got into the ambulance was to throw his bloodied gloves on the ground:
And then . . .the traffic cops left! There are two wrecks on one of the busiest thoroughfares in town, and no protection from the next speeding car! The wrecks are in the fast lane!
Don’t get me wrong. You know how I feel – police, ambulance medics, firemen – they are all heroes in my book. They risk their lives every day for the common good. The save lives, and they take pride in what they do.
They need a little training in accident management. When there is an accident, there needs to be a priority on getting there fast, and controlling the crowd, and routing traffic by efficiently. The medics need to pick up their waste.
There needs to be after-accident care, ensuring that someone stays until the wreckage is removed.
I had a house guest once who sat in my window and said “Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh! Oh! Oh!”
There are three separate u-turns we can see. Each one is another accident just waiting to happen. When the turn lanes back up, sometimes some people start honking, putting pressure on the lead person to make an unsafe turn. Please – resist the pressure. Take your time. Wait for a safe, truly safe interval.
Please, my friends, do one thing for me. Please, buckle your seat belts. And please, buckle up your children, put them in car-seats made to protect them, teach them from an early age to buckle-up, help it become so automatic they don’t even think about it.
Christmas for Expats
By the time October hits, it is almost too late for many expats to be thinking about Christmas. Packages have to be in the mail in time for a December 25th delivery, and that can mean different things in different countries.
Even travel and delivering the gifts yourself has become more challenging; one of the changes 9/11 made in all our lives is that we can no longer travel with wrapped gifts; baggage inspectors must be able to look at everything we pack, which means a mad scramble on the arriving end to get everything wrapped and labled before delivery.
We all face that universal problem – what to get for the people who already have everything?
So I sent to Find Me a Gift.
Here were some of their suggestions:
Become a Lord or a Lady – Buy Yourself a Title
Name a Star
Neiman Marcus always has outrageous and imaginative gifts for the people who have everything, and this year one of the catalog items is a Top Stars Orchestra concert for only $1,590,000.00
(Their 100 year anniversary catalog is a must-see, even if just for the giggles)
And, of course, here in Kuwait you can make a donation of time, goods or money to Operation Hope – Kuwait to help Sheryll Mairza with her 2007 goal of feeding and providing winter clothing for 7,000 poor laborers here who are unprepared for the cold winter to come.
Tareq Rajab Museum of Islamic Calligraphy
One of the most beautiful buildings in Kuwait is the new – open only since March – Museum of Islamic Calligraphy in Kuwait. I am in total awe of this family, who have an eye for the history and culture of this area, collect it lovingly, and then display it – free of cost – to all who wish to visit.
The TR Museum of Islamic Calligraphy is on the same street as the Dar al Cid, where many art exhibits are held, also under the auspices of the Tareq Rajab family. It is around the corner from the Tareq Rejab Museum.
It is open every day:
Mornings 9 am – 12 noon
Afternoon 4 pm – 7 pm
Friday 9am – 12 noon
We visited recently. The museum is beautiful, and well organized. We wished only that more of the exhibits had explanations; sometimes we would be looking at something very beautiful, but we didn’t know the significance of what we were seeing.
The calligraphy is manifest in hangings, ancient Qurans, quiltings, posters and carved wood. Each item is a work of art. We were fascinated by some of the Chinese calligraphy, and by the video they run showing how calligraphic quills are made, how the paper is prepared, even how the calligrapher prepares for work.
This is the entry to the Museum of Islamic Calligraphy:
Some examples of the beautiful works on display:
If you are looking for books about Kuwait, and/or Islamic Arts, the Tareq Rajab Museum has a well stocked little shop with books, cards, postcards, etc. for reasonable prices.
We take all our houseguests to these museums, and every time we go, we are moved by the generous hearts that create these museums and then offer them to the public – free of charge. They give so much to their community. It’s like a little piece of heaven. Visit soon!
Paranoia: Locked Out
Yesterday was bizarre. The blog has become a part of my routine – I get up, grab a cup of coffee, pick up my e-mails, take care of any business that needs be taken care of, read my daily Lectionary readings (see blogroll) and then – I get to visit with YOU!
Imagine how I felt when I could see my blog, but couldn’t log on to it. I don’t know what the problem was.
I tried it on my computer. It kept telling me my password was wrong. Since I have worn the letters off many of the keys on my keyboard, it COULD be wrong, but you know your fingers have this kind of mechanical memory, you know how you can type and your fingers know where the letters are and you don’t even think about it, just think about what you want to say?
So I asked for a new password, thinking oh well, I could change it back to something I might be able to remember. The new password didn’t work. Three times I tried with new passwords, and nothing worked.
I went back and used Adventure Man’s computer, and still couldn’t access.
I have a life, so I went on with my life, and later in the day tried again, with the same results.
Paranoia kind of kicked in. I wondered if I was being blocked? If WordPress was being blocked?
This morning, same story, except this time I prayed and tried all the passwords, promising God if he would just help me get on, just once, I would post my problems (in case it happens again) and change my password, (in case someone has messed with me) and do all the admin work I need to get done.
I haven’t backed up the blog for a long time. I don’t really have time to do it today. Aaaarrrrgh.
But my first, paranoid though was wondering if I had annoyed someone and if I was being blocked.
Then common sense kicked in, thank God, and I figure it was just some kind of technical anomaly. . . it’s like medicine, and political “science”, and all this computer wizardry – there are a lot of black holes, information we just don’t have yet, and I am guessing that this was just one of those anomalies.
I thank you all for bearing with me, and continuing to comment and check on me!
And no, I am not blogging from Syria. The visa never came through. 😦
Kitchen Before and After
Wooo Hoooooooo! The ugly kitchen is gone! The new kitchen is finished!
Before:
After:
Blessings of Eid and Eidiyya
(*Note for non-Muslim, non-Kuwaitis – Eidiyya is money given for Eid, mostly to young children, but I have a few grown up women friends who tell me their Daddy still gives them money for Eid, the big holiday at the end of Ramadan.)
We had a yen for French food last night, and were at the restaurant, finishing up a fairly mediocre meal. We were enjoying watching all the couples and families, all dressed in Eid finery. Many of the women literally sparkled – gold threads woven into scarf or hijab, clothing beaded or glittering. . . we were like plain little quail, surrounded by swans, but that was fine with us, kept us below the radar as we ate our dinner.
As we came in, we had been warned that the credit card machines were not working, but that wasn’t a problem for us, we tend to carry cash, just keeps things simpler.
So we are waiting for our change, when a very good looking family comes in and sits at a table near us. The husband and wife are dressed beautifully, not glam, but well tailored, well fitted, expensive clothing, and they have five beautiful children with them, youngest maybe 10, up to maybe college age. As they are about to order, the waiter reminds them that the charge machines are out of order and the restaurant will accept only cash tonight.
The distinguished looking man sits in a stunned and embarrassed silence. The faces of his family are all turned to him as sunflowers to the sun, waiting. Then his wife says “Don’t worry, I have 10KD here, you can have it.” (10KD would not have taken care of this family!) The oldest girl jumps in: “Dad, I have my Eidiyya with me! You can have it!” and each of the children start digging in their pockets and purses for money to help their Dad out.
Our change came back and we were leaving. I don’t know if they stayed, if the Dad accepted any of the money as a loan, but my own heart was warmed – as I am betting his was – that his family would jump to help him out, so that he would not be embarrassed and so that the family could have the meal they planned. How proud he must be of his beautiful family, and their beautiful hearts. How blessed he must feel!
I have seen in my own life how God can take the most awful circumstances, even trivial events, and use them for great good. We’re all cash-strapped now and then, but God used this embarrassment to demonstrate to this man where his greatest blessings abide – in his own home.
Idiot Custom Paint Job
I couldn’t resist. I carry my camera with me, and this was too good to pass up.
Just a car? Look again. You may not be able to see all the pink sparkles sprayed on, but they twinkle and sparkle in the sun. And this is a GUY driving a pink sparkly car.
But whoever he hired to do this – or did he do it himself? – was a genius. He also sprayed the tail lights and the back windsheild – did you see that?
Idiots!
Manly Cosmetics
I vacated my bathroom for houseguests recently, and as I was moving my toiletries back in, with wry amusement I noticed how many face creams I have. Creams for eyes, creams for lips, creams for night, creams for going out into the sun, creams for after having gone out into the sun, creams for day, creams for “noticable reductions in wrinkles in 7 days or less.”
(The problem is, seven days later when I am looking for a noticable reduction, I can’t really tell if it is working or not. I look, but I am wondering what I might have looked like if I HADN’T used the cream? I don’t know!)
And I was thinking about men, who have skin, too. Particularly I was thinking about Adventure Man, and what would it take for him to feel comfortable using a skin cream?
First – it would have to have a very manly name. None of this Homme stuff, it would have to imply that this is a product a RUGGED man would use. Like Manly Lather. “Lather” is a word that goes with men, like barbers lather up your face before they shave you. Women use foam, men use LATHER.
Another name I thought might work would be Extreme Unction because manly men like flying near that edge of the envelope, it’s a testosterone thing, and unction means anointing, like with an oil. If you are Catholic, you receive extreme unction just before dying, or before people think you are about to die, so even unction has an extreme connotation.
Maybe Braveheart? Maybe Rock?
Help me out here.
If you are a guy, (please, keep it clean) what kind of names would allow you to use a face cream with dignity?
If you are a gal (and rolling on the floor laughing) what names can you think of that would encourage a guy to actually USE a face cream?
Have fun with this!
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