Dolphins in the Gulf
For the years that we have been living in the Gulf, we have heard people talk about seeing dolphins, but we have never seen any. Most people say “we used to see dolphins.”
My husband and I pray together every morning before he leaves for work. This morning, as we were discussing my father and my upcoming trip home, before praying, he said “are there dolphins in Kuwait?”
“What a weird question in the middle of all the serious things we are talking about, ” I thought to myself, and asked him why he asked that.
“It must be a log,” he responded, “but I am watching something appear and re-appear, and it reminds me of a dolphin.”
We got the binos, and to our unimaginable delight, it was a pair of dolphins, lazily swimming along, grazing on the fish who have been jumping the last few days.
In the midst of sadness and daily responsibilities, God smiles. It felt like such a blessing, seeing these graceful creatures going about their dolphin business. Our scripture readings for today remind us that there are miracles happening all around us, if we have the eyes to see them. We had a little miracle this morning. Thanks be to God!
“Only Trashy Girls Get their Ears Pierced”
“Only trashy girls get their ears pierced!” my Dad roared as the nightly battle at the dinner table commenced. Every night, I presented facts and evidence supporting my need for pierced ears, only to engage his fierce and fiery disapproval.
“No daughter of MINE will ever have pierced ears!” rang in my ears, but I wasn’t giving up. The battle raged on.
Meanwhile, my next youngest sister went out and got her ears pierced, and showed up at dinner with bright, shiny gold earrings. I was dumbfounded. Flabbargasted – and aghast. What would my Father do?
I expected rage. He looked at her is shock. I think he went a little pale. He was angry, but . . . so mild! She really looked cute in those new gold earrings.
“You’re grounded for a week.” he told her coldly. The rest of the meal passed in silence, my sister grinning and preening quietly.
I went out the next day and had my ears pierced, too, so we could “serve our time” on restriction together. The next week, my Mom and youngest sister went downtown and had their ears pierced too. They didn’t get grounded.
Now he lies in a hospital bed, weak, old, and subdued, sliding between hallucinations and lucidity. What I wouldn’t give to see his fiery spirit back again.
Date Night in Kuwait
Because my husband’s weekend is Friday, Thursday night is our date night in Kuwait. We have a tradition of going out for a nice dinner together.
We used to drive our son crazy. We would say “Hey, want to go to Rio Bravo (Mexican) with us?” and about a third of the way there, my husband would say “You know, I just have this yen for sushi!” and I would go “Oh! Me too!” and our son would pipe up “No! No! No! That’s ‘bait and switch!’ No! That’s not fair!”
(Now he laughs and tells us that it runs in the family; that he and his wife do the same thing – and, he now also eats sushi. My sisters’ families tell me they do it too – it must be a family culture thing.)
So last night we were on our way to Biella’s at the Marina Crescent. But oh, the traffic on the Corniche! Maybe we should just eat Chinese in the neighborhood? What about the seafood buffet at the Crown Plaza? Or . . . finally we decided on Paul’s down at Fehaheel, and hoped there was a parking space.
They have a new mall opening just across the main street from the Al Kout Mall, Al Manshar, with a great big apartment building and a great big new hotel, a Chili’s, a Johnny Rocket’s and a food court – a few of the merchants and restaurants are already open – but only like 40 parking spaces???? Go figure! Even worse, it is right next to a beautiful mosque, so at prayer time, there is NOWHERE for anyone to park. And the driving in Fehaheel at night is crazy . . . minimally better than Gulf Road. Take another look at the photo – those two outcroppings are perfect for a bridge, a la Marina Mall – connecting one mall to the other, and sharing parking spaces.
At Paul’s in Fehaheel it was comfortable enough, with their fans, to eat outside, by the big shallow water-fountain pavillion. Great food – we had the Camembert – noisette salad, onion soup and the smoked salmon pasta, most of which we brought home because the soup and salad had been so good. Best of all was just being together, sharing our week and having a relaxed, delicious meal together.
And it was there I told him about my blog. I don’t like keeping secrets from my husband. I wanted to see if blogging was something I really wanted to do before I told anyone. Last weekend, when he was asking me to explain blogging to him, I was afraid he was on to me. He wasn’t; it was a co-incidence, but I knew someone was bound to figure it out sooner or later, and I really wanted to tell him. I was ready.
Last night when we got home I showed him the blog and he was amazed. It is so cool to have such a great evening together, great meal, great conversation, and, after all these years being married, to be able to surprise him now and then – in a good way. It was one of our best dates.
Breaking Out the Sweaters
This morning, checking the weather forecasts, I exclaimed to my husband “Wow! 100 degree (38 C) maximums for the next five days!”
“Break out the winter sweaters!” he exclaimed.
It’s a family joke. We’re from the same country, but different cultures. I was raised in a very cold climate, he was raised in a very hot climate. I need it to be cold enough to sleep; he sleeps in a nightshirt with an extra blanket.
When we were first married, he looked at me one night and said “Don’t you ever fry anything?”
I looked at him in horror. “No! – and you’ll live a lot longer! We only grill and occasionally saute!”
When I first met his family, they fixed all their best dishes for me.The food was wonderful, but used a lot of cream and lard and butter. Not used to eating such rich foods, I got really sick. Later, I did learn to cook several of the dishes that he grew up with, and he learned to like grilled fish and shrimp.
Although I do not think 100 degrees is “cool,” I am seeing changes in the weather – it is lovely at night, sweet for sitting outside. The color of the sea changed yesterday, from it’s normal jade color to a more blue color. There are huge flocks of birds, landing, resting and taking off – migratory birds? Two days ago, I could see silvery fish jumping in the waters, and last night, late late into the night, there were fishing boats just yards off the shore, with their lights gaily dancing up and down. I grew up on fishing boats – a part of me yearns to be out there with a line in the water.
Think I’d better go pull out the winter boxes.;-)
The World is Not Enough
Whew! I just got back from a week in 12th century France, courtesy of my friend Zoe Olderbourg. (slaps a flea biting her arm) I bought this book, The World is Not Enough, a while back, and have tried to read it several times, but couldn’t get into it. This time, man, I got into it and couldn’t put it down!
We enter at the wedding of Alis to Ansiau, she (slapping the flea on my neck) the 14 year old daughter of Joceran of Puiseaux, Ansiau the son of Ansiau the Elder, castellan of Linnieres, who knows he is dying and wants to see his line continue before he goes.
“The two of them, standing there, were moved, as two children must be who have just been washed, dressed, lectured and left at teh altar by their parents in front of all the guests, their brothers, their sisters, their uncles, their playmates. They were so little alike. He was a boy and she a girl.”
Alis and Ansiau marry and fall quickly in love. (checking the bedding for fleas) They hunt, they go to tournements, Ansiau goes off on Crusade to the Holy Land – twice. Alis runs the daily life of the castle, has twenty pregnancies, 12 children who live. Ansiau has a mid-life crisis. In their late 50’s, we leave them, scratching one another’s flea bites and looking off into the sunset.
Reading this book, you are totally immersed in the daily life of the nobility. The nobility, as it turns out, are the original credit-crazy spenders – they borrowed against their inheiritance, they borrowed against their lands, they borrowed against their doweries. They were constantly short funds, and constantly mortgaging their future for a few baubles today.
The “castle” had a great hall downstairs, where most of the men slept and where cows and horses and chickens and sheep were brought if it got too cold in the stables in the winter, and up a laddar, one great room where there was one big bed for the king and queen and whoever else they invited to sleep there, and a couple other beds, mostly shared by four or five people. This was where ladies slept, and hung out, and embroidered, and (scratching at a fleabite on the ankle) exchanged gossip.
It was a fascinating visit into a world with no running water, no heat, no air conditioning, where babies died at birth as often as not. It was a world where people caught smallpox, and the lucky ones, those who survived, lived the rest of their lives with pock marks like craters on their faces. It was a world where the nobility didn’t read, and there were no books except in the monasteries. Only priests were authorized to read and explain scripture. It was a world where wolves and bear still roamed the forests of France.
The book is set near Troyes and Langres, in the Champagne area of France. Zoe Oldenburg captures the poverty and brutality suffered by the majority of people, rich and poor alike, without sacrificing the human joys and kindnesses which brightened the world, and made life worth living. The book is so realistic and richly detailed that you will be looking for flea bites when you finish!
For Jewaira
( . . .And for all Mother’s who wonder if they are making a difference. . . )
When you thought I wasn’t looking
Author: Unknown
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me,
and I knew that little things are special things.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I heard you say a prayer,
and I believed that there was a God to talk to.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I felt you kiss me goodnight,
and I felt loved.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes,
and I learned that sometimes things hurt,
but it’s alright to cry.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw that you cared,
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn’t looking,
I looked….
and I wanted to say thanks for all the things I saw
when you thought I wasn’t looking.
Houseguests in Kuwait
Our son and his bride will visit us in December. Oh! We can hardly wait! We are already making lists of what we want to do. . . the Tarek Rejab Museum. . . the Heritage Market . . . a drive along the Corniche . . . a drive to Fehaheel . . . a boatride to Failaika. . .hit a couple of the fabulous malls. . . and . . . then what?
We want to knock their socks off. We want them to love Kuwait, and to be SO SO glad they came.
Help me, friends. Give me your input.
“I’m Not Japanese Anymore”
she said, and we dissolved into gales of giggles. We struggled to regain control over ourselves. She was the Japanese ambassador’s wife, my dear friend, and we would hide out and have coffee together whenever our busy schedules would allow. We always sought out the quietest time of day, the most remote tables, so we could have complete and utter privacy as we shared our week, our worries about our kids, our lives.
Our topic was a recurring one in our conversations – that once you have left your native country and lived elsewhere, you aren’t the same anymore. Your eyes change, and you see things differently, your taste buds change and the unfamiliar becomes familiar. Unacceptable color combinations become acceptable, the cacaphonous and discordant become music to your ears. Once you have lived in a foreign country, you can never be truly the person you were before you left.
“I’m not so patient with ceremony any more,” she continued, and we dissolved into laugher again, because her life was full of endless ceremonial events. The great blessing in all this for both of us, is that we are both married to men who are at the same time traditional and ceremonial, and secret iconoclasts. Every now and then we could even get together, all four of us, and share an evening of relaxation and laughter, mostly laughing at ourselves and the difference between how others perceived us, and how we really are.
We treasure these friends. They are the kind that could call us late in the day and say “We are unexpectedly free tonight – can you meet us?” and if there was any way we could, we would. They were our playmates; when we were together we were free to be totally ourselves.
Sometimes in life we are handed roles to play, and if we are honorable people, we play them as best we can. The secret is to keep a very clear idea of where the role ends and we begin. We show respect where respect is due, we carry out the rituals that give richness and tradition to our lives, and heritage to our children.
But glory and honors are transient. Roles and job titles come and go. Good friends and those who keep your worst secrets – they are worth more than gold and diamonds.
The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, and more
If you enjoyed the trip through Botswana and would like to read more about Botswana, if you think you might go there someday, or if you think you might never go there – you need to read a wonderful series of books by Alexander McCall Smith.
The first book is The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. You meet the main character, and heroine, Mma Precious Ramotswe, the founder and owner of the only women’s detective agency in Botswana, and her assistant, Mma Grace Makutsi (who can’t resist a handsome pair of shoes), and the love of her Mma Ramotswe’s life, Mr. J. L. B. Matekone. Mma Ramotswe describes herself as “a woman of traditional build” and drives a very old, small white truck. She has a way of looking at things differently – and she solves her mysteries in ways you or I wouldn’t think of.
The books are short, and deceptively simple. They are “feel good” books, giving you smiles and warming your heart as you read. At the same time, you find yourself thinking back to these books, some of the issues, some of the characters, some of the plots – long after you have finished the book. That’s a sign of a good read!
As different as the thinking and culture is, the books are so full of grace and good humor and tolerance and forgiveness that when the book finishes, you can hardly wait to start the next one. You feel like Precious is your sister, a very smart sister, not without her flaws, but a woman to be respected, a woman of good character and who can make tough decisions.
She also makes mistakes, and has to live with the consequences. You will find the books addictive. The entire series is:
The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency
Tears of the Giraffe
Morality for Beautiful Girls
The Kalahari Typing School for Men
The Full Cupboard of Life
In the Company of Cheerful Ladies
Blue Shoes and Happiness
Jeffrey Deaver’s mysteries, on the other hand, are intricate and woven through with arcane information, but you always learn something. He has a series about a quadriplegic, Lincoln Rymes, a criminologist, who solves cases in a very Sherlock Holmes kind of way, by thinking about the evidence and the patterns that it presents. He has a girlfriend, Amelia, who is a policewoman, and works with him on many of the cases. The books that have these two characters are:
The Bone Collector
The Coffin Dancer
The Empty Chair
The Stone Monkey
The Vanished Man
The Twelfth Card
Last – and least, for The Devil Wears Prada crowd is Linda Fairstein, who almost always has a book on the New York Times best seller list. Her heroine is Manhattan sex-crimes prosecutor (District Attorney) Alexandra Cooper, whose dad made a fortune on an artificial heart device, allowing her to work in the public service sector and still wear fabulous clothes, have weekly manicures and hair stylings at the best salons and eat at the coolest restaurants in town, and she tells you all about them.
They make great airplane reading for the trendy. The plots are formulaic – an astounding, mysterious crime is committed, Alexandra gets involved, along with her detective side-kicks, the criminal involved somehow focuses on Alexandra and she has to spend the night at her friends’ houses. You don’t read these mysteries for the astounding plots, you read them because they are funny and superficial and a quick read that doesn’t require much thinking.
Happy reading!
Watching Rome in Kuwait
My husband and I just finished watching the entire season, unexpurgated, of Rome, Season One. We had tried watching it on American Plus, but this being Kuwait, we weren’t always able to figure out just when it would be coming on – so we would catch an episode here and part of an episode there, and had enough glimpses to intrigue us, but not to satisfy us.
We waited with great anticipation for the release of Rome: Season One in August, and now are able to watch the entire season without interruption – and my friends – What a way to go.
We were riveted. From the initial episode as Vorenus and Pullo are with Ceasar in Britain, to the very end with the betrayal of Ceasar, we couldn’t wait to watch the next episode. We stayed up late. We turned off our phones. We talked about it in the car, on the way shopping. Even after it ended, we debated fine points, options taken or not taken, strategic approaches. We feel like we spent a couple years in Ceasarean Rome.
WARNING: In the boxed set we got, there is a lot of nudity, including full frontal male nudity. There are frank sex scenes and sex scenes between same gender people. If you are a family-values kind of family, you won’t want to be watching this with your children, and you won’t want your younger children watching this at all – it is very very bloody in places, very violent, the stuff of nightmares. Your teenagers will find where you hid it and will steal it to watch with all their friends.
I was comfortable watching with my husband, but I don’t even want to watch with other grown ups, related to me or not. There is a lot of strong stuff, stuff we consider private.
When we had finished watching, we also watched all the extra background information. I’m glad we didn’t view it before we watched the entire series, because Vorenus’ Irish accent really threw me off in the background interviews. Watching the sets being built and the costumes was absolutely fabulous. Pullo turns out to be surprisingly articulate. Hey! These guys are actors.
We can hardly wait for Rome: Season Two which is set to begin airing on HBO in January 2007. Meanwhile, buying the set was worth every penny. We will happily watch it again and again.
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