Failure in Kuwait
This morning, as I was getting out sheets for the guest room, I had a happy surprise – one last 10-pack of personal tissue packets, with an Oud scent.
The first time I bought them, it was an accident. Our son and his wife were visiting, she had a cold, so I ran in to the store, grabbed a packet, (paid) and ran back out to the car. Later in the day, I wondered what perfume she was wearing, I could catch a whiff now and then. I asked her, and she said she didn’t have any perfume on, and she couldn’t smell anything.
We finally figured out it was the tissue. It smells like Oud.
From then on, I bought the Oud tissues. When it came time to leave ‘for good,’ I stocked up. A year later, I thought I had used them all, and I searched every store in Kuwait while I was there to stock up on some more, but – alas! – no one had them in stock.
So it was a truly happy surprise this morning when in the very back of my linen closet, I found this one last remaining 10-pack. I will try to stay as healthy as I can, so I don’t have to use them all up before I can figure out where I can find them around here. The package says they come from Dubai and (wooo HOOOO!) there is a website!
Kuwait National Seismic Network
I don’t know why I am suddenly getting a lot of hits on an old post I wrote when we had an earthquake in Kuwait, and discovered that Kuwait was vulnerable. Somehow, we thought Kuwait was a low risk earthquake area. I thought about it a lot, on the 10th floor of my tower in Fintas, as I watched how other tall buildings were being constructed. 😦
If you need information on earthquakes and / or tsunamis in Kuwait, here is the best place to start: click the blue type
Anniversary and Punch List
It’s been a year since we bought the house. We had to have it entirely rewired before we moved in, and now, we are so glad we took that time and spent that money; the insurance companies have gotten more and more finicky about insuring houses in Florida. One of the newest causes for non-renewal is aluminum wiring, which is what we had taken out and replaced with copper wiring, not cheap, we can tell you.
We are so glad our contractor made that recommendation. For one thing, we sleep well at night, knowing the wiring is new and well-installed. For another thing, it was good to get it done while we had nothing in the house, and the workers had easy access to everywhere they needed to tear out walls, rewire, put back walls, etc.
Do you make lists? I have a list I made in November, and today I finished off the list. It had unfinished tasks going back to the move-in. You prioritize, you know? Even when you have accomplished the most important things, sometimes it is just too overwhelming to tackle the next thing so you take a break . . . and that break can stretch.
The little plumbing things are all done. Every single one. Wooo HOOOO. The final light fixtures are all up. Woooo HOOOOO! The outside watering system is working, woooo HOOO, and we have a guy helping us restart our lawn – wooo HOOOO!
It’s kind of like having a baby. If you think about all the things that need to be done before you do it, you might have second thoughts. It’s all-consuming, and it can be exhausting, emotionally and physically and financially. Just like having a baby!
And, now that I have come to the end of my punch-list, I would celebrate, except that new things are cropping up – the gutters, the drainage, the driveway, the air conditioning . . . nothing that needs to be done, no emergencies, but all which need some attention, some fine tuning, so that we are not dealing with an unexpected disaster.
It’s not like Trust Towers in Kuwait, where we lived in Fintas, or Al Fardan Gardens in Qatar, where we could just call the management if anything went wrong, and someone would show up to fix it. Now, we have to think about what we want, how much we are willing to pay, and we have to make decisions.
We are waiting for the air conditioning man to come. The electricians have told us that the inside and outside units (the expensive pieces) are fine; it is the thermostat that needs replacing, so we have to have the A/C people replace that. Meanwhile, I think I will sit back and enjoy our new light fixture.
Here is what I love. AdventureMan and I are so often on the same track. We wanted traditional – a crystal chandelier – but we didn’t want elaborate, we wanted simple lines, not a lot of embellishment. When we found this, we both knew it at once – welcome home, new light fixture!
And here is one other thing we love. Through our contractor, we met the best people. The plumber is good, and thorough, and honest. The electricians are good, and hard working, and serious. They are all knowledgeable professionals, people we can trust.
The electrician didn’t want to charge us. He said these were leftover tasks from last year. We insisted – a year later, this is on us, not on them. We fiddled around a whole year looking for what we wanted; it’s not fair to not pay after a whole year.
Sometimes we just feel so blessed, having come to this broad and spacious place, Pensacola.
Jaco’s on the Pensacola Waterfront
“Where do you want to go for lunch?” asks AdventureMan.
Sometimes I tell him “you choose!” but not today. “Jaco’s” I reply.
“Where is Jaco’s?” he asks, and I tell him it is down by the Pensacola pier. I have seen it, I have wondered about it, and every now and then I hear it mentioned in passing by some friend or another. I want to give it a try.
The minute we walk in, we love it.
First, there is this great place to sit outside, and if it is a little cool, they have these heaters, like they use in Kuwait and Qatar in cool weather, so people can still sit outside. Outside is beautiful, because you are right on the Marina, right on the water.
We got there just in time. Following us, the teeming hoards decended, and we were glad we had ordered and been served while it was still relatively quiet. Jaco’s has definitely been discovered.
The food is great. What? You thought we only ate barbecue? No, we love barbecue, and we seek it out mostly because for lo, these many years, we have been seriously barbecue deprived, it’s not so common in the Arabian Gulf countries to find good ol’ American barbecue.
Nor is it common to find food this good, this well prepared, in Pensacola. Everything we ordered, we loved.
We started with the spinach soup:
And then I had Antipasto platter, and AdventureMan had a ‘flatbread pizza’, which we found is a whole lot like an Alsatian ‘flammekeuchen.’ Oh Yummmmmmm.
I forgot to take photos of dessert – I had a berry dessert and AdventureMan had a cobbler, again, both yummmmmm.
We love this place. We plan to go there frequently.
We had been recently to another restaurant I will not be reviewing. It thinks a lot of itself. They start you off with ‘the water service.’ I had the ‘most adventuresome’ meal on the menu, the terrine, and it wasn’t all that great. It was just OK. Others at my table had similar experiences, except for the one who ordered the common hamburger, who said it was a really, really good hamburger. It means well; the first time I ate there I had a delicious risotto, but the dessert was only so-so, not worth the hyped up description. We won’t go back.
We will be going back to Jaco’s. Jaco’s is fun, unpretentious, with great, fresh tasty food, a view to die for, good service and a lot of happy patrons.
AdventureMan’s New Talents
This has been a great month for AdventureMan.
He knew what he wanted. He thought about it, planned it, sought out resources. He now has three photo shelves in his office, where he can display a changing round of photographs. He bought the lumber, tacked on the trim and mounted them on the wall, all by himself.
All these years he has worked so hard – he has never had the time for a fun project like this, and he just sits there and grins that something he was able to do himself can give him so much satisfaction and happiness. Retired, maybe, but still learning new skills, scaling new mountains.
Last night, he baked his first pork tenderloin, and then roasted up some asparagus with an olive vinaigrette sauce. Oh, yummmmm. Still growing, still developing new skills, it is so much fun.
Today, he is going out to explore what kind of kayak he wants to buy. 🙂
You Can’t Take it With You
I awoke this morning from the most horrible dream, and it’s a dream I have had often, but this time, there is no reason. I am packing boxes. I have a deadline. I have a lot to pack, I am feeling very anxious, and I keep getting distracted from my packing. Soon I will have to go, and I haven’t accomplished what I meant to accomplish.
This dream is a very common dream for someone who has moved 31 times in her life, who had packed boxes and suitcases and never missed a deadline. Never once have I left a box with someone else to mail for me. I’ve had these anxiety dreams so many times, but never when I am not facing a move.
So I felt depressed, and I felt anxious this morning, wondering what my dream means. Does it mean that I am thinking about my mortality, and distracted by my attachment to things? Does it mean that I need to be clearing up and organizing my life so I can depart? Or is it just a remnant anxiety, like those leftover dreams about having to take a college exam you haven’t prepared for?
For me, the cure for depression, anxiety and morbidity is action. We hit the water aerobics class this morning and she worked us so hard we both fell asleep this afternoon. I got some tomatoes (not the Black Krim, which I have not yet found) and basil potted, and some weeding done. Depression gone. Anxiety gone. Inklings drift across my consciousness, but I sweep them away like cobwebs.
In Search of the Seminole Pumpkin and the Black Krim
The big box stores are full of plants, some of which will grow in Florida, and some of which are nothing but heartache. They SAY these plants are all zone specific to our area – it’s a big fat lie. Many of the plants they sell will last a short while, but were never meant to grow here.
I planted a lot of seeds last year, and got tomato plants of many varieties, but only one actually produced fruit, a golden drop tomato. I bought plants, and one plant, bought from a local gardener at an annual gardener’s fest, produced copiously – the Black Krim. We tried growing crook neck squash and zuccini, but one day our plants looked healthy and fabulous, and the next, they would be withered and broken, eaten from the inside by some boring insect. Literally boring, not figuratively speaking.
At a meeting this week (which I am so glad I attended) the director of the local Manna Food Pantry program was telling us about the Manna community gardens, and he mentioned a squash that will grow, the Seminole squash or pumpkin.
I’ve spent two days touring nurseries and open markets to see if I can fine one. One nursery had heard of it but said you usually see it later in the season, you plant it like in July so that you will have first fruits in September.
The rules for gardening are so different in Florida. I am learning, but it is all counter intuitive, except that in Kuwait gardening was similar – people yearned for October, when you could set out plantings and hope they would not be destroyed by the heat.
Bougainvillea is an exception. You would think it would grow beautifully in this heat and humidity, but I am told that the cool winters kill it off. It doesn’t really get that cold for that long, but it seems it is cold enough and long enough to kill bougainvillea, which breaks my heart. I love the flamboyant lushness of bougainvillea.
Meanwhile, we will be planting other zone-hardy plants, and we will see what works. If you see a Seminole Pumpkin / Squash plant for sale, let me know, will you?
Tonight the full moon will be closer to the earth than at any other time for many years to come. AdventureMan and I are heading out with a little picnic to watch the moon rise from a tiny park we know. 🙂
You Must Not Be From Around Here
When I got back to Kuwait, I had to regain my driving courage all over again. I remember growing up, when we would go to fairs and carnivals, where I loved to ride the bumper cars. We were all aggressive; we wanted to win. It never occurred to me that there would be countries where people would drive real cars that way. Touch wood, I never had an accident in Kuwait, and I learned how to drive aggressively but somehow stayed safe.
Driving in Pensacola is a piece of cake – most of the time. Suddenly, we have some TRAFFIC. There are cars on the road from all over, never fewer than two or three in every car, usually dressed in beach gear, and full of high spirits. It is Spring Break. People are flocking to the gorgeous white beaches of Pensacola, spilling out of the lively beach restaurants, and even some of the restaurants in downtown Pensacola. College students, families (local schools are also on spring break) and the snow birds are filling our roads, not entirely sure where they are going.
In one of our favorite nearby restaurants, we saw some college age kids come in, and then another group, all greeted familiarly by the owners, and then their tables were joined so they could all sit together – locals, back home from university for Spring Break.
It’s a sweet time of the year. The weather is in the high 70’s, cooling down at night. We have the a/c off, we keep it off as long as we can.
Beirut Knows How to Have Fun
I’m sure most of you have seen this, but it just rocks my heart! Beirut Airport duty free! Rafic Hariri International Airport! They are having so much fun! I would love to see this on the catwalk in the Kuwait airport or Qatar airport, LOL, I am guessing in the Gulf it would have to be just men, but some of these Lebanese girls are amazing dancers!
All this dancing is so good for your health! Look, there isn’t a fat person on the floor! They have all danced themselves skinny!
Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
Someone in my book club in Qatar mentioned this book, Cutting for Stone, a while back, and I bought it, but it has sat for months on my to-read shelf (LOL, there are actually several, but one with the most important books, and another with the ‘guilty pleasures,’ the ones I am addicted to and save as a reward for good behavior, like vacuuming.)
When a good friend said she was reading it, and that it was good, I decided to move it up in priority, sort of like taking medicine, read a book that is good for you.
Oh WOW.
First, it is a great, absorbing story. Twin boys are born, totally unexpected, to an Indian Catholic nun and an English surgeon, working in Addis Ababa. How they were conceived is a mystery. The mother dies in childbirth, the father flees in horror, the children are born conjoined at the head and must be separated. The boys are adopted by an Indian couple, doctors at the hospital, and are raised with love and happiness.
That’s just the beginning!
I’ve always wanted to go to Ethiopia and Eritrea. I want to visit Lalibela, and some of the oldest Christian churches in the world. When my father was sick, he had a home health aid from Ethiopia, Esaiahs, who told me about the customs in his church, and how Ethiopian Christianity is very close to Judaism, with men and women separated in the church, and eating pork forbidden.
Reading this book, I felt like I had lived there, and I want to go back. The author captures the feelings, the smells, the visuals, the sounds, and if I awoke in a bungalow at the MIssing (Mission) Hospital, I would say “Ah yes! I remember this!”
I kept marking sections of this book that I loved. Here is one:
They parked at Ghosh’s bungalow and walked to the rear or Missing, where the bottlebrush was so laden with flowers that it looked as if it had caught fire. The property edge was marked by the acacias, their flat tops forming a jagged line against the sky. Missing’s far west corner was a promontory looking over a vast valley. That acreage as far as the eye could see belonged to a ras – a duke – who was relative of His Majesty, Haile Selassie.
A brook, hidden by boulders, burbled; sheep grazed under the eye of a boy who sat polishing his teeth with a twig, his staff near by. He squinted at Matron and Ghosh and then waved. Just like in the days of David, he carried a slingshot. It was a goatherd like him, centuries before, who had noticed how frisky his animals became after chewing a particuar red berry. From that serendipitous discovery, the coffee habit and trade spread to Yemen, Amsterdam, the Caribbean, South America, and the world, but it had all begun in Ethiopia, in a field like this.
We live inside the hearts and minds of doctors, some practicing under the worst possible conditions, and learn how they make their decisions and why. Verghese is a compassionate author; while his characters may be flawed, they are forgivable and forgiven.
Another section I loved, the man speaking is Ghosh, the man who adopted the twins with Hema, another doctor:
“My genius was to know long ago that money alone wouldn’t make me happy. Or maybe that’s my excuse for not leaving you a huge fortune! I certainly could have made more money if that had been my goal. But one thing I won’t have is regrets. My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they’ll leave in people’s hearts. They realize that no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.”
Things in Ethiopia get sticky, politically, and one of the twins is forced to flee, implicated in an airplane hijacking only because he was raised with a young woman involved. He is spirited into Eritrea, where he awaits his ride out to Kenya, and he helps the Eritrean rebels when large numbers of wounded are brought into his area. When the time comes to leave, his thoughts will strike a chord in anyone who has ever been an expat:
Two days later I took leave of Solomon. There were dark rings under his eyes and he looked ready to fall over. There was no questioning his purpose or dedication. Solomon said “Go and good luck to you. This isn’t your fight. I’d go if I were in your shoes. Tell the world about us.”
This isn’t your fight. I thought about that as I trekked to the border with two escorts. What did Solomon mean? Did he see me as being on the Ethiopian side, on the side of the occupiers? No, I think he saw me as an expatriate, someone without a stake in this war. Despite being born in the same compound as Genet, despite speaking Amharic like a native, and going to medical school with him, to Solomon I was a ferengi – a foreigner. Perhaps he was right, even though I was loath to admit it. If I were a patriotic Ethiopian, would I not have gone underground and joined the royalists, or others who were trying to topple Sergeant Mengistu? If I cared about my country, shouldn’t I have been willing to die for it?
The book has a lot of observations about coming to America; some of which made me laugh, some which made me groan. Coming back is always a shock to people who have lived abroad for a time, but it is a huge shock to those coming for the first time:
The black suited drivers led their passengers to sleek black cars, but myman led me to a big yellow taxi. In no time we were driving out of Kennedy Airport, heading to the Bronx. We merged at what I thought was a dangerous speed onto a freeway and into the slipstream of racing vehicles. “Marion, jet travel has damaged your eardrums,” I said to myself, because the silence was unreal. In Africa, cars ran not on petrol but on the squawk and blare of their horns. Not so here; the cars were near silent, like a school of fish. All I heard was the whish of rubber on concrete or asphalt.
As I neared the end, I read more slowly, unwilling for this book to end. It is one of the most vivid and moving books I have ever read. AdventureMan has gone online to find the nearest Ethiopian restaurant so we can have some injera and wot.
Recent Comments
intlxpatr on A Lawless, Authoritarian … Kuwait Someday on A Lawless, Authoritarian … intlxpatr on Oh Thank You, Amazon! Rivergirl on Oh Thank You, Amazon! intlxpatr on Give to Those Who Ask Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 