The Kitty Ritz Pet Hotel in Kuwait
I’ve been wanting to tell you about a wonderful place we found in Kuwait, the Kitty Ritz.
(this is a photo from the KittyRitz website)
The Qatari Cat stayed at the Kitty Ritz for three weeks last December. Located on the top floor of a building in Salmiyya (and yes, it’s walk up all the way), the Kitty Ritz has separate “rooms” for each cat with a bed, cat dishes and cat litter box. You can bring your cat’s favorite blanket, favorite toy and even food, although they will provide your cat’s favorite food if it is available in Kuwait.
They have cat social play, where cats who are good with other cats can mingle and play outside the cage for a while. If you cat is not so good with other cats, he can be outside later, with no other cats.
The cost was reasonable, not cheap, but not so expensive we wouldn’t keep him there.
We weren’t really sure how The Qatari Cat would do. He is spoiled. He is an only cat. He is pampered. We weren’t sure how he would handle being around a lot of other cats, strange noises, strange smells. It’s kind of like sending your child off to kindergarten. You have to drop off, say a cheery “bye bye!” turn your back and LEAVE before you lose your courage, or worse – start crying.
One of the things we loved was that they sent us photos of The Qatari Cat. Now the truth was, The Qatari Cat was not a happy camper. In the first photo they sent us, he was in his cat “room” looking totally fuming mad, like “go away and LEAVE ME ALONE!”
In the second photo, sent a few days later, he is having a bath, and he is mad as hell. You might think this is tragic, but actually, it was hysterically funny. We knew he had survived, we hoped the people bathing him had survived, and we knew he wasn’t bored.
By the third week, there were photos of him out with the other cats. He was adjusting.
When we picked him up, he was all sweet-smelling and clean, and oh-so-happy to see us.
The Kitty Ritz has some of the happiest, healthiest looking cats I have ever seen staying in a cat hotel. It is nice and warm, the people truly like cats and are sweet with them, and it smells CLEAN. We knew they took good care of him, and we knew he had a good time. For the Qatari Cat – he might look angry, but the very worst thing is being bored and lonely. The Kitty Ritz was just the place he needed to be.
You can find them online, fill out their simple questionaire, and send it to them as an attachment via e-mail.
36 and Counting
I’ll be your pool-buddy,” AdventureMan said, as we lounged against the side of the pool. It was the best, the very best anniversary present he has ever given me.
My pool buddies are gone. One is coming back, one is not. The pool is big and beautiful, but being alone at the pool isn’t a lot of fun. Although AdventureMan doesn’t like pools as much as I do, he is willing to make the sacrifice – make the time – to make me happy.
We’ve been married 36 years. We didn’t go out last night, instead we had artichokes and tacos, and burned the wedding candle my parents gave us 36 years ago in Heidelberg. Artichokes, because at the first family dinner AdventureMan attended, my mom served artichokes as a first course, and AM thought it was some kind of a test. Tacos because in our 36 years together, it has always been one of our favorite meals, and because I found all kinds of Mexican food supplies in Qatar.
Then we walked over to the pool, swam, bounced around, talked, and when we got out – even though the temperatures were still high – there was a breeze, and we even felt just a tiny bit chilly! Chilly in the blazing heat of the Gulf summer is GOOD!
Just for our 36th anniversary, there was also a full moon. We walked home, cool and breezy, under the light of a great big romantic full moon. 36 years, and it just keeps getting better and better. 🙂
Pigeon Update
One egg hatched! There is a tiny, scrawny, downy little creature. I don’t want to take a photo because I don’t want the Mama pigeon to be gone too long, even in the heat, the little baby needs the Mama. Pete is now sleeping in that room where he can keep an eye on the pigeons.
Some Are Silver and the Others Are Gold
Life gets funny when you move. Like 5 minutes after I landed, my Kuwait phone stopped working except for advertisements. The company provided me with a loaner, just so AdventureMan could keep in contact with me, and then like a light bulb going on in my head, I checked to see if the problem was lack of money – yep.
I used to have a phone plan. I am not a big phone user. I discovered those wonderful Hala cards, and at the very max might use 10KD per month – I really am a light user.
When I arrived, my good friend two villas down had her movers – she is leaving. We had like six days of overlap. Three of those days, she had her movers there and I had people here helping me get the new villa set up. We would grab a few minutes when we could – not even enough time for a cup of coffee, but as I left, I thought “this is just like old times.” We’ve both always had busy lives, and we would grab time together when we could.
In the USA, when kids go to camp, we learn songs. It occurs to me that many cultures transmit cultural values in songs – I know I can still remember French and Spanish songs I learned in language classes . . . there must be something about singing that imprints things in your memory. One of the songs is:
Make new friends – but keep the old,
One is silver and the other is gold.
You sing it once, all together, and then you divide into four groups and sing it as a round until it is all finished. You sing it when you are leaving camp, and you cry.
Of course, we are all grown up now. We don’t cry when friends leave. (Liar! Liar!)
The movers are gone, my friend SMS’d me “how about a swim tomorrow?” and I SMS’d back “Sure!”
We lolled around in the pool, sort of theoretically exercising, but her equipment is en route back to the USA and mine is en route from Kuwait, so we were pretty lax, sort of bobbing around and laughing and catching up. She is trying to bring me up to speed on what is going on in Qatar, and I am trying to remember everything she is telling me. We walk home, head in our separate directions again. I have a loaner car, and I get to go grocery shopping ALL BY MYSELF!
I am down to putting away my last two bags of groceries when my loaner phone rings and it is my good friend saying “I have to drop my son at school, have you eaten, want to have a late lunch?” and I laugh and say “sure” and we plan to meet at 1:30, but the QTEL (Telephone) man comes (the company sent him so I wasn’t expecting him) and the problem is too complicated, so he will come back and I just barely have enough time to get to the meeting-up restaurant.
Ooops – no, forget that, I am going to be late, I had forgotten about the traffic, so I break the law and call my friend on my mobile and say “I’m going to be another five minutes at least, I am so sorry, go ahead and order for me” and she just laughs.
We have a great lunch together, still catching up on all I need to know, and I ask if they have plans for dinner tonight and she says “no” and I say we would love to have them come to our house for something simple. Like I have napkins; the ones she gave me because they were leaving, but I don’t even have a tablecloth with me, it will be something casual like spaghetti and salad and garlic bread and she says she thinks they would just love that kind of evening but she has to check with her hubby.
We talk talk talk and then her hubby calls and she forgets to ask if he can do dinner with us, but then my hubby calls and says we need to do blood work for our residency and can we do dinner another night (we already have another date set up with them) and so I get off and have to say “uh, I am sorry, but I have to take back that dinner invitation.”
This all seems convoluted and round about, but this is where those GOLD friends come in. She just starts laughing (I love it when she cracks up) and says “OK! But I’m NEVER going to let you forget this! You WITHDREW an invitation!” and then we are both laughing and oh, Lord have mercy, I am so thankful just to have a little overlap with this crazy friend, and oh, how I am going to miss her.
Some friends are just THERE, they know what the important things are. This friend has me all set up with a really good cleaning lady who will start on Saturday, she told me the really good tailor she has found, the best car rental place, and which car wash guy to keep far away from. She borrowed a cup of laundry soap. Tomorrow, she needs to come here and iron her son’s shirt for graduation, and she and her husband are bequeathing to us their leftover (legal! legal!) booze. Here is what takes it beyond gold – our husbands like each other, too. Our cats . . . not so much. Her cat wants to make nice, my cat gets all hissy.
Inside this grown up expat body is still the little Girl Scout from camp, making new friends, and treasuring the old . . .
Facets: A Little about who we were in Kuwait
I saved some photos from our Kuwait life to share with you once we were gone. I know some of you think I went overboard with the anonymity thing, but I have had stalkers, even here on this blog, and I would rather error on the side of anonymity than have to deal with people who know too much about me.
We present a single facet, or maybe even a few facets or our multifaceted lives as bloggers. I am just sharing a few more little facets:
Here is where we lived – in Fintas, which means “large water container” from what I have been told. When we first got to Kuwait, and I would tell my new friends where I lived, they would gasp and say “Fintas!” like it was the end of the world. On a good traffic morning, it only took us ten minutes to get from Fintas to Salmiyya, maybe 20 minutes to the airport. It takes a whole lot longer, we have found, just to get out of Jabriyya!
This photo is taken from the pier in Eqaila Family Beach. My apartment was over the park and swimming pool. It was a never-ending source of lost hours for me, watching families, watching the school groups visit. My favorite is the families of ladies in abayas who would bring inner-tubes and float in the shallows on the hot days, keeping cool, keeping covered.
I have a good Kuwaiti friend who would tell me that when he was growing up, Fintas was just a small beach place, a place he and his friends would camp out in the hot Kuwait summers. There was just a tree or two, and a shack on the beach, he told me. He also used to camp on the empty beaches of Salmiyya. (!) I loved listening to his old Kuwait stories.
This was my living room. It had great light from morning ’till night. No, none of this is my furniture, except all the bookcases. 🙂 It was a furnished apartment.
This was my kitchen, which I loved because it was well planned, had great light and great shelf spaces. It also had a great place to store/display all my baskets:
This is Little Diamond’s bedroom, which was also my project room, this is what my project room usually looked like:
Here is a photo of one of the best parts – the moon rising over the Gulf, right outside my window, and shimmering over the park:
This is what I look like:
Here is my other blog:
World in Stitches
I haven’t asked my husband if I can share his photo. When I get a chance, I will ask, and if he says OK, I will show you a photo of him, too. 🙂
You know what Pete looks like!
Pete’s Pigeon
“There’s an ongoing problem with the pigeons,” the former resident told my husband.
I remember the pigeons. We all have these two story entries, and the pigeons love them. The problem is, that they nest, and so when company comes, there might be pigeon droppings in your entry – aaarrgh.
I’ve always loved the sound of pigeons coo-ing, so it didn’t bother me so much. I pay the gardener a little extra and he makes sure the entry is cleaned every day. When guests are coming, I scrub any late additions myself.
LLLOOLL, I can see they have installed beds of nails to keep the pigeons from roosting.
Our resident pigeon has two perfect eggs; she pooped enough to build up a foundation above the nails, and now she roosts, safely, on the sharp nails. She takes turns with another pigeon, I am guessing the male, sitting on the eggs.
Sorry for the poor quality of these photos, but the windows are dirty, salt streaked, and I am shooting through a screen. Also, I don’t know which one is the daddy or mommy pigeon, or even if they are daddy and mommy or mommy and friend. I don’t know that much about pigeons, I just love the sound of their voices. I guess I should be appalled by the pigeon poop, but I feel lucky to have two pigeon eggs, and protective pigeon parents, it seems like a good omen to me.
It would be a health issue if any of the pigeon windows opened, but none of them do. When the eggs hatch, and the pigeons fly off, I will get the guys with the tall ladders to come clean the dropping off – again – and hope they will roost in another spot next nesting season.
Pete thinks this is the greatest show on earth. He has windows all over the house, and there is always something happening. The gardener is watering the lawn in back (well the dust in back, but we are going to have the trees cut back so the lawn and bougainvillea will grow once again), washing off the entry in front, the birds are flying in and out of the trees, the pigeon is roosting on her eggs, or flying off to find some bugs or whatever pigeons eat. He is losing his excess weight (I hope I am too!) running up and down the stairs. He is NOT bored! Anything but bored! He loves this place.
Safely in Doha
Yes, my friends, we are safely in Doha, with the normal out-of-touch sort of things that happen when you move. For some reason, and partly it’s because I am a technology dunce, unless things are clearly spelled out in the instruction booklets, I could never figure out how to include the plus sign in phone numbers, and without them, things don’t seem to be working. I still have my Kuwait phone, but I all my messages fail, and the only ones I am getting are from advertisers.
Just after I wrote the last entry, a team of FOUR customer service – or maybe three and some slightly more elevated personages – a guy in a suit with a radio – came to get me in the lounge; they were taking me to see my cat. The lounge – God bless them abundantly – came up with a plate of salmon for Pete, and with my escort, we went down to immigration.
This is the really funny part – and it’s all technicalities, but my residence visa has been cancelled, and I have been stamped out of the country, so I cannot go to Lost and Found where Pete is being held pending our flight, the immigration police are very clear about that, but since he is just baggage, they can send someone to bring Pete to me.
Surrounded by my escort, and now also by four or five immigration policemen, they bring Pete to me, and I get to give him a little scratch under the chin and collar, he gets to hear my voice. He is not terrified, but he is healthily intimidated by all the unknown persons and noises – and he is alert, so alert. He is not hungry. His pupils are dilated. I only keep him for about three minutes when I send him back; I am holding up about ten people at this point, all of whom dropped their duties so that I could comfort my cat.
When it came time for my flight, I asked the lounge to call Lost and Found and find out when the cat would be loaded, and the answer was – he was just being loaded now. I checked again at the gate, and they were prepared. Everyone apologized profusely, and explained that the pilot on the first flight just could not take a chance; the ventilation in the pressurized cargo compartment was not working and he didn’t want to put Pete at any risk. God bless him. I don’t mind the inconvenience; I honor his carefulness. Sometimes what appears to be an inconvenience is really a protection; the blessing I had this time was to know and understand that this, truly, was a blessing.
But I also needed to tell you about it, or you might have the wrong impression. It was not an airplane annoyance. It was a conscientious pilot. Thanks be to God.
Pete was carted separately to and from the plane, and hand carried to me in arrivals. LOL, I had no other baggage, just Pete! I got through the screening quickly, AdventureMan had schmoozed his way into arrivals and was there with the importation paperwork, and we were out of the airport in a flash, and in our villa a mere ten minutes later.
Another LOL, by the way, at all of you who like the name Qatteri Cat better than Pete! Honestly, one reason I don’t unveil is that as long as I am Intlxpatr, married to AdventureMan, I am so much more interesting than the very ordinary person that I really am!
Pete will always be the Qatteri Cat, because he was found, as a small, tiny, hungry kitten, wandering on the Doha Corniche by a family who had to give him up when he was around 5 months. I loved him the minute I saw him, but he only had eyes for AdventureMan. And poor AdventureMan, he was so worried about Pete he was in a nervous tizz when we arrived, he had been so afraid something would go wrong.
Seeing the two of them reunite in Doha was a beautiful sight. Pete’s food and cat litter were all set up, and he has a whole new environment to explore.
Even When You Do Everything “Right” . . .
The most amazing things can happen.
“Just bad joss” says my inner Chinese guru, as I sit for another seven hours in the lounge, waiting for a flight on which I am assured, my cat will also fly.
“Woooo HOOO!” we whopped and hollered and danced around our house with Qatteri Cat when we were told that YES, the flight we had booked had a compressurized baggage compartment, necessary for transporting a cat.
QC was a great sport this morning when I wouldn’t give him any fresh water or food – it’s just a short flight to Doha; he can survive without food and water for this short time. He wasn’t such a great sport about going into his cat cage – that usually means going to the vet, and he struggles and moans loudly, so loudly we were afraid he was going to wake the neighbors.
He quiets down on the drive to the airport. He can hear AdventureMan and I talking quietly, and he is calm. He is calm as we go through the long check in process. We like to travel light; this time we are burdened with bags and bags – one bag just for QC’s food, bowls, blanket, cat litter and babies. AdventureMan has to pay excess baggage, and, of course, cat passage.
From the Gate, I can see him carefully loaded on the plane. AdventureMan and I take our seats, the plane fills, we are beginning to breathe easy . . .
And then . . .
Everything changes.
The customer service rep is in front of us; the gates are closing, Qatteri Cat is being offloaded because the compartment is NOT pressurized – or something. The story shifts. AdventureMan talks with the CSR, he talks with the captain – in Arabic – and nothing works. They say they will fly QC to us on the later flight.
QC has had nothing to eat or drink. Now, he has to remain confined in his cage for seven more hours, no food, no water, on the chance he will make it on the plane later in the day. No. I tell AdventureMan “You go ahead, I will stay here with QC to make sure he gets on the later flight.” AdventureMan likes that idea. He will get the cat litter set up and meet us at the plane.
No, they will not allow the Qatteri Cat in the lounge with me, no matter how nice I am, no matter how concerned I am, even when I get a little angry, no, he has to wait in Lost and Found. That just breaks my heart.
They are being as nice and helpful as they can be – considering they screwed up, right up to the last minute we thought everything was OK and it wasn’t. We don’t even know what the real reason is, but meanwhile, I am sitting here steamed in the lounge – no, the A/C is working overtime, I am just royally annoyed that we did so much forward planning, and all for naught, AAARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
I feel so sorry for the Qatteri Cat (whose real name is Pete, by the way.)
This is the same airlines – a really good airline – that lost my bag for three days last year when I flew to Doha, during a time when I had a whole weekend full of social things, and I had to wear my same clothes to all the things – I didn’t even have time to go to the stores and buy anything, I just had to buy what I could in the hotel gift shop.
It makes me wonder if I just have bad karma on this airline? I don’t want to complain too much, because what if it were a protection? What if some other airline might have transported Pete without thinking about pressurization and what if he had been badly hurt, or died or something? There’s a part of me that knows this might have been a good thing, it’s just hard to see it now. It’s hard to see clearly when you are feeling angry.
One good thing in all this is that AdventureMan gets to handle all those bags and get the cat litter set up and cat food out and then come pick up the Pete and me when we arrive.
There he goes:
Bye, AdventureMan. See you in Doha, Insh’allah . . .
Don’t Mess with Seniors!
A while back, one of my commenters said she had read a book with an “old” couple just like AdventureMan and me.
“Old??” we looked at each other in horror!
“Old people with a son getting married” is I think what she said, so that makes just about every person over 45 “old.”
We will have our revenge. Time flows only in one direction – but the older you get, the farther away “old” looks.
My 85 year old mother visits friends, now and then, who live in retirement homes, from modest to posh.
“What do you think, Mom?” we ask, knowing how lonely she is without Dad and wishing she had more companions around her to do things.
She sighs.
“They are all so OLD!” she says. “I don’t want to be surrounded by all old people!”
And she is right. She lives on her own, she cooks her own meals, cleans her own home, with only a little help from a cleaning lady and her family. She keeps herself in good shape. She is far from “old.”
I found this in today’s news on AOL – some young idiots thought they had an easy target. They thought wrong.
Two would-be carjackers learned the hard way not to mess with this grandfather. Ted Mazetier, 84, stopped to help two men with a broken-down car in Tacoma, Wash., April 22 but ended up fighting them off when they attacked and demanded his keys. Mazetier kicked one in the groin and the other in the stomach. The two were later arrested, KOMOnews.com reported.
Selling My Car
I have a darling little car, I bought it in Doha six years ago. Aye, there’s the rub. While the company agreed to ship the car for us, Qatar won’t accept a car older than 5 years old. My sweet car has less than 40K km on it, has been lovingly maintained, and I totally love it – I was outraged at Qatar. But being outraged at a bureaucracy is a loser’s game, it isn’t going to change, the rules aren’t going to be excepted for me. So I had to sell the car.
I looked up the blue book price, and I knew my car was better than that, but these are hard times for selling a used car. I just put it out word-of-mouth, and within a week, I had my buyer.
She came. She sat in the car. She said “I will take it.”
I said “but you haven’t even driven it!”
She said “I can look at you, and look at this car, and I know it is a good car.”
We talked about a price. We agreed to a price a little higher than the blue book price, a little lower than I wanted. We were both happy.
She paid me in cash.
When we went to transfer title – this is Kuwait – the administrative section was closed! It wasn’t supposed to be closed! The area was full of Kuwaitis, Jordanians, people like us, wanting to transfer title. Fortunately, the woman knew another administration place nearby, so we went there, and after the normal finagling, the title transferred and all was completed.
We really wanted this woman to have the car. It has so many good years left on it, and this is a good woman.
AdventureMan laughs at how quietly all the decisions were made, all the negotiations done. The day after we sold the car, we got an SMS from the buyer saying how happy she was, and asking God to bless us richly. We feel already blessed, having sold the car to a fine woman.
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