Diwali: A Light Sparkles in Dark Times
Today, Labor Day, when dark events are taking place in our country, shutting down the light of liberty and democracy, we got an unexpected invitation – to a Diwali party, coming up in a couple months.
We are so honored. And we know Diwali; we were living in Al Fardan 1, in Doha, Qatar, when an Indian neighbor invited all the residents of Al Fardan to come over for Diwali. We didn’t know what Diwali was, and our internet was dial-up and irregular, but we asked around and were told, with big smiles, to go and find out.
The night of Diwali came, and we walked to our neighbor’s house, along with many of our Al Fardan neighbors. We could see it long before we arrived – thousands of candles set out in patterns in the yard, lining the sidewalk, leading us inside, to more lights and a feast of sweets, platters of sweets, all illuminated by gleaming candlelight.
Such open-hearted hospitality. Such generous sharing. No one was excluded; everyone was welcome, and there was plenty for everyone.
Our neighbors’ beliefs were different from ours, and yet, I believe all such generosity, freely given, springs from the same spirit.
We can’t wait for this upcoming Diwali.
International Cooperation: How to
I came across this article by accident, and it communicates how I believe we can make this world a better, safer place – by rubbing shoulders with “the other.”
I spent many years living in Germany and a variety of countries in the Middle East. It was always, initially, very uncomfortable. Slowly, in each country, I met people who were kind to me. At first, I would hear their strange languages as harsh, even hostile. As I rubbed shoulders with them, I came to learn that we had important things in common. Most of my friends were religious, just not the same religious expression as mine. Most loved their families and wanted the best for their children. Some were as suspicious of me as I was of them, and as time passed, surprising thngs happened – we became friends.
This article confirms my own belief – working together, spending time together, diminishes fears and hostilities.
80th Flying Training Wing at SAFB celebrates ENJJPT graduation
KFDX Wichita FallsTYSHIN DAWSON
October 18, 2024 at 9:05 PM
WICHITA FALLS (KFDX/KJTL) — It’s a program unlike any other in the world, where students from the U.S. and 14 NATO countries train side by side to become the best pilots in the skies.
The Euro-NATO Joint Jet Pilot Training Program is one of a kind, and here is why.
“We like to focus on how do we break down that communication barrier, with other nations, how they interact with us, as well as build out those relationships with each other, to kind of further our combat capabilities, around the world, as well as fostering those relations so we can work with them more clearly.”
ENJJPT Wing Commander Jeff Shulman said with so much going on overseas; this program is especially important.
“For some of these nations, we are the sole source and production of their fighter pilots, so if I do not produce quality fighter pilots on time for that nation, they do not have a combat air force, including right now is doing a lot of things in Europe. And he’s right in their backyard. So for them, right, it’s a strategic imperative that my program produces quality fighter pilots on time for the need of minds,” Shulman said.
As you can imagine, these pilot graduates are put through a very rigorous process. They take about a year of training, which involves 12-hour days, 5-6 days a week. These are some of the top academic graduates in the world.
ENJJPT Graduate 1st Lt. Giles Beebe talked about his experience in the program.
“I think, and just has kind of some advantages that a lot of pilot training is doing. Mainly international, working with people from different nations. I think that’s huge for multiple reasons, and really, we have, like, instructors that are worth their weight in gold here,” Beebe said.
His parents praised the mentorship aspect of the ENJJPT Program.
“We could see as our son was going through that, the journey, how incredible the program is in terms of all that mentoring and leadership that’s embedded throughout even before this. It’s really, really quite a program.”
When the call of duty rings, we can proudly say that the aviators who are walking out of this program will be more than prepared to hold the line.
On Friends and Friendship
I love the Lectionary. I learn so much. Today’s is one that I feel like I have never read before. I must have, I’ve been reading the Lectionary for over 30 years, but it feels fresh and new:
Sirach 6:5-17
5 Pleasant speech multiplies friends,
and a gracious tongue multiplies courtesies.
6 Let those who are friendly with you be many,
but let your advisers be one in a thousand.
7 When you gain friends, gain them through testing,
and do not trust them hastily.
8 For there are friends who are such when it suits them,
but they will not stand by you in time of trouble.
9 And there are friends who change into enemies,
and tell of the quarrel to your disgrace.
10 And there are friends who sit at your table,
but they will not stand by you in time of trouble.
11 When you are prosperous, they become your second self,
and lord it over your servants;
12 but if you are brought low, they turn against you,
and hide themselves from you.
13 Keep away from your enemies,
and be on guard with your friends.
14 Faithful friends are a sturdy shelter:
whoever finds one has found a treasure.
15 Faithful friends are beyond price;
no amount can balance their worth.
16 Faithful friends are life-saving medicine;
and those who fear the Lord will find them.
17 Those who fear the Lord direct their friendship aright,
for as they are, so are their neighbours also.
“We Call Her Meanie”
We are sitting in our backyard with our neighbor, Marvin’s person, and I asked her if she had ever had any other cats, or knew of any other cats in our neighborhood, who were neutered and microchipped but didn’t seem to belong to anyone. I had my reasons.
She named a couple – Cindy Clawford, and one we call Fuzzy Tail, and Goblin. And then she says
“And there was one, we call her Meanie, who used to hang around, but I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
I didn’t say anything. “Meanie” is likely the cat who bit my hand the first time I fed her, she was so hungry and had no manners. I had to have antibiotics for the first time in 30 years, and a shot of some kind. She wanted to live with us but she was too feral. She lived outside for a year.
It was a very very hot summer, and she had a thick fur coat. When Goblin or another cat would go after her, she would run to the drain in the street and hide inside. We were terrified we would find her body in the street one day. And it was hot, too hot for her to live on our porch living in a fur coat. AdventureMan wanted to bring her in. She adored him.
A friend helped us trap her to get her neutered – and we discovered she was already neutered and chipped, but had no registered owner.
“Meanie” was a scary cat. You couldn’t move too fast or she would hiss, and occasionally lash out with her sharp claws, or even bite. We have to keep the door closed between the front and back areas of our house so she won’t attack our two very domestic male cats. Slowly, slowly, we have gained her trust and she is learning manners which are more suitable for living with people. We have taught her to cuddle, by moving slowly with her. She no longer bites. She no longer uses her sharp claws, except to knead when she is cuddling, purring and happy. (Ouch!)
We call her Zenobia, after the warrior queen of the Syrian desert, who ruled in Palmyra.
There’s No Such Thing as Heat Lightning
Waiting for a lane to open at the Y, my friend and I are looking out the giant windows at the sky, which is violently beautiful.
“I was surrounded by heat lightning this morning, ” I said, “In every direction!”
And my friend started laughing. He laughed so hard, he was bent over.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, fully confused.
“There’s no such thing as heat lightning,” he gasped, “and I just had this same exact conversation with my Lady Love.”
I started to indignantly deny what he was saying, but he is smart, very smart. He might be wrong, but (and I laugh as I say it) I am going to the internet to see what the internet experts say.
This is what those fraudsters at Weather.gov say:
Heat Lightning
Weather.gov > Safety > Heat Lightning
The term heat lightning is commonly used to describe lightning from a distant thunderstorm just too far away to see the actual cloud-to-ground flash or to hear the accompanying thunder.
While many people incorrectly think that heat lightning is a specific type of lightning, it is simply the light produced by a distant thunderstorm.
Often, mountains, hills, trees or just the curvature of the earth prevent the observer from seeing the actual lightning flash. Instead, the faint flash seen by the observer is light being reflected off higher-level clouds. Also, the sound of thunder can only be heard for about 10 miles from a flash.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: Prague Day 2
An Even Better Day Than We Had Planned
We woke up fresh and decided to walk to Prague Castle from Clock Tower Square. We had a lavish buffet breakfast with friends departing very early the next morning, and then we headed out to find Bus 194, which came within moments.
Our intention was to get off at the Astronomical Clock Square, from where we could cross the bridge and hike up to the castle.
Once again, Bus 194 traveled the back roads but did not stop at the Clock Tower Square, so we just stayed on, and discovered it took us up a steep hill to the German Embassy, where we got off. On the advice of some friendly Czech police, we headed straight up the hill, and then across what I call a meadow and AdventureMan calls a park.
They have the most beautiful manhole covers!
The first photo above is the road we have walked up. The second is the road we will walk up to get to the path that crosses the meadow. You can see the monastery in the upper right of the above photo.
It was cold and snowy, but we were bundled up and happy to be out hiking. I have my clunky walking shoes on, and although the path is treacherous, snowy, icy and slick, my sticky soles have a good grip.
We came to a Monastery with a fabulous overview of Prague, and met up with several groups of happy Germans.
We continue on towards the castle.
We had some good laughs, and headed toward the Prague Castle, happily all downhill. Entrance was free, and the castle, on this cold, snowy December day was packed with tourists from all nations.
There is slush and ice everywhere, and these crews are in all heavily touristed areas, trying to clear paths and streets so they will be less dangerous. Meanwhile, the snow continues. Magical for us, a pain for them.
We hurried through the castle, and headed down the hill back to the city, stopping only at The Best Christmas Shop in Prague (and I believe it!) and the Lobkowitz Palace, where we had hot drinks – hot chocolate with whipped cream, a hot ginger lemonade, fabulous and not too sweet. We split a half-sweet chocolate cake and delighted in the surroundings – lots of families with bundled-up children, and lots of people from other places.
As AdventureMan paid, I went out to use the rest room which had a turnstile and coin machine. I started to put a coin in and a woman stopped me and said “No! I saw you in the restaurant! Your chit will let you in free! Go back and get a chit!” so I went back and got a token, and when I got there, another woman said “No! No! Don’t put in anything! The code is 1-1-1-1, just put in the code.” So I did.
When I had finished, on my way up the stairs, I saw a young couple trying to figure out how the machine worked, and I, in turn, said “No! Just put in 1-1-1-1!” and they did.
As we headed back into the city, I found a shop with garnets and amber, and I had hoped to find some new garnet earrings to replace the pair I bought there in 1990, my first visit. The shopkeeper was lovely, and a great saleswoman, and when I told her I could not take the large garnets I had been looking at, she asked if they were too heavy, and I laughed and said “No! Too expensive,” and like my good jewelers in Doha and Kuwait, she offered to make me a special deal for Christmas.
I chose a smaller pair, and she still gave me a better price, so I was very happy. As we completed the deal, we asked her for the name of a good Czech restaurant, a place she might eat with friends, not fancy but with a good atmosphere, and she sent us just up the street and around the corner to Potrafena Husa, in a less traveled part of town.
We went there, and oh, what fun we had. I ordered the duck confit and ginger lemonade, and AdventureMan had a schnitzel and a beer. We both love the Czech beer.
We wandered through the market, and enjoyed one of the hollow hand-held cinnamon breads traditional at this time of year. They come with different fillings, but I just wanted the plain – it has cinnamon sugar on it and that is enough for me. I could eat them forever; they are so light and tasty; they taste like Christmas!
A great time, loved the experience of the Christmas Market, but it is time to think about our return. Once again, we were over 15,000 steps and getting a little anxious about making sure we were packed and ready for our departure tomorrow. We found the 194 bus, headed home, were held up by a narrow-street accident and six police cars, but finally made it back to the Hilton.
We packed, we organized, and just as I was lying in bed working on the Bad Schandau section of this journal, I got a text from Delta. Our flight has been canceled out of Prague.
No offers of help to rebook. I read the message to AdventureMan as I hurriedly dressed. I was in shock, and at first, AdventureMan thought I was kidding.
No, I wasn’t kidding. We needed help. We needed to get to the Viking desk in the Hilton and get some serious juice working to resolve this, to get us home. Fortunately, we had booked with Viking and used Viking travel. They are so good when things go wrong, and can make it right.
Eve, the Cruise Director who had made everything so smooth on the Beyla, is still with us, and as soon as we see her, we tell her our news and she gets right on a call with Viking Travel. Although the wait seemed excruciating, soon Eva had us booked on another flight getting us into Pensacola the same day, a little later but the same day. She had worked a miracle. Our bags would be picked up later, we had a later departure, and we were on Air France, our favorite airline.
AdventureMan mentioned that our pick-up time for the canceled flight also had another couple, so Eva called them. They had also been resting (it’s the demographic). They checked their messages and they, too, had been canceled. By the time we left, we saw just how capable Eva was, dealing calmly with so many anxious passengers who needed rescheduling.
Another passenger who had used the Hilton ATM to change money found a $16,000 charge on his card that he had not made, his card was blocked, and he and his wife could not use Uber, could not charge anything, food, drinks, anything! And, of course, he was very concerned about how $16,000 could be charged to his card when he did not do it.
One by one, Eva patiently handled these individual disasters, without drama, but with great calmness and competency. We admired her before, on the cruise ship, organizing and re-organizing as things came apart, always calm. Watching her in action with such a variety of needs only increased our admiration.
We had some goals for this trip. We wanted to enjoy the sights, eat winter foods, and find some garnet earrings. Done. AdventureMan wanted a real Afghan kebab for dinner, and we had seen a place near the Hilton where we catch Bus 194, so we headed out, ordered kebab from an Afghani young man who told us he works like a robot, just work, and friends, and send all his money home. We have heard this story so many times; these young men work so hard to support their families far away, not just with food but with money for school tuition, clothes, and their families’ many needs. The kebabs were huge, full of tasty vegetables, and heaped with lamb. We brought them back to the hotel and couldn’t eat half, they were so big.
Now, hoping and believing we really do have a flight tomorrow, we are packed, and hoping to get a good night’s sleep before rising early to get our bags out in the hallway for transportation to the airport. As a last-minute change, we are checking our carry-on bags and taking with us only what we need.
We agree, for so many reasons, this has been one of our best vacations ever. We loved the magic of the snow the entire journey and the walk over Glienicker Bridge. The Beyla is a small ship, and we got to know several people well, and have great conversations over noticeably great meals on board. We found that almost every Viking guide we had, particularly in Berlin, Potsdam, and Dresden, was outstanding. The markets were so much fun. The people were welcoming and engaging. We hate for this vacation to end.
Intlxpatr Goes Back In Time
We were on our way to gymnastics class, which involves driving over a long bridge, through a congested beach town and down a state double-lane highway, and my grand-daughter, age 8, is utterly caught up in reading a book to me, a book called Crush. It is about junior high, and although she is in 3rd grade, she is always interested in what the older kids are doing.
This book has an advanced vocabulary, so I am loving hearing her reading it out loud. At one point, she comes to a word that the teacher has blocked out, and she asks me what that word might be. The word is “kickass” which does not offend me, especially as it is applied to a girl whom I would definitely describe as kickass. It’s a compliment.
(When I was little, my Mom would send me to the library alone, with a basket of books. Around 10 years old, I had devoured most of the children’s section and started in on the adult section – especially science fiction and psychology. The librarian called my Mom and asked if I was allowed in the big people’s books and God bless her, my Mom just laughed and said “if she wants to read it, let her read it. She can read anything she chooses.” God bless you, Mom, for the gift in having faith in me, and in the free flow of ideas, and in my judgment.)
So I am not concerned about an adult word. She often asks me about words she hears on the playground, and we talk about what she thinks it means and what I think it means. I am outraged at the policies being developed in Florida to impede discussions in the classroom, but in my experience there is nothing that makes a book – or an idea – more attractive than having it BANNED.
When my son started reading, I made it a point to read the books he was reading so I could have some idea where his mind was going. I bought the four-volume set of the books my granddaughter was reading, and read them through (they are comic style, so easily read, each in under an hour).
The books are Awkward, Brave, Crush and Diary by Svetlana Chmakova.
Junior High is a lot like childbirth – as you get past it, you forget the pain. These books are so REAL. As I read Awkward and Brave, I was right back in the middle of all that turmoil. We forget! At that age, they are learning the painful lessons of being different, being rejected, suffering bullying, learning accountability, learning how to make a friend and to be a friend, learning how to deal with authority, learning so many things! And many of the situations are very uncomfortable, even as a grown-up. We all know what it’s like to be on the outside, looking in.
The saving grace of these wonderful books is the message that an act of kindness makes all the difference. That you can find a group that shares your interests. That the kind of friend you want is the friend that saves you a place at the lunch table, and maybe even shares tastes of their lunch.
The second set of books I discovered was the Friends series, by Shannon Hale. Once again, we are treated to the real nature of friendships, that there are cliques and pecking orders and false friends. There are betrayals and secrets and ganging up. Learning to be a friend depends first on figuring out who WE are; it gives us the confidence to discern. These books are all about learning about who we are and discerning who our real friends are.
In my life, with all my moves, I’ve been so lucky, I’ve always found some really good friends, and some will be reading this right now, friends even from far back in my childhood, my high school days, university and various places we’ve been stationed. Some friendships are based on common interests. For me, the best friendships are based on ground-level communications, where we open our hearts and share our realities, and hold one another up when we feel we may be about to falter. Some friends are always going to be there for you when you hit bottom, and are essential in the recovery process.
Today I got an e-mail about how continuous learning builds neuroplasticity, and neuroplasticity seems to be a defense against Altzheimer’s, even if you have a plaque build-up in your brain. I’ll take whatever learning I can get, and these books that take me back to the immediacy of middle school. I’d forgotten how much we learned there. I think I built a new synapse or two re-experiencing the horrors of that age, and I am thankful to the enthusiastic reading of my little granddaughter for an unexpected educational journey.
Word Play from Washington Post
Many thanks to a good friend who sent me these Word Plays from the Washington Post. I met this friend while on a cruise, but not on the cruise; we met at the Museum of Archaeology in Kotor. There were tour groups from Viking going by, and not a single Viking guide mentioned this museum, prominently located on the main square. It was full of fascinating displays, and also had a gift shop with unique items, great gifts for grandchildren.
We kept meeting up, at the most wonderful places – the harbor in Dubrovnik (where Game of Thrones was often filmed) eating mussels and salad and drinking wonderful wine, up in the lounge as we discussed books we were reading. It was over five years ago, and this woman and her husband have visited us, and we continue to have a rich and satisfying correspondence.
They also love words – as I know you do, if you are here, especially if you subscribe to follow this blog. She sent me this, and it made me laugh, and it gave me great joy. I hope you enjoy it, too.
| Subject: The Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational once again invited readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the winners. 1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time. 2. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole. 3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with. 4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly. 5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future. 6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid. 7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high. 8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it 9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late. 10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.) 11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer. 12. Decafhalon (n): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you. 13. Glibido: All talk and no action. 4. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly. 15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web 16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out. |
Before the Blog: Arrival in Kuwait
After three years in Doha, AdventureMan transferred to Kuwait to take on a new position. I followed, spending a couple months dealing with a variety of authorities to get permission to take my cat, known as the Qatari cat in the blog, his real name was Pete.
When our Morgaine died, AdventureMan said “No more cats!” but six months later, on a plane back from our son’s wedding, I told him I needed a cat. He worked long, hard hours, and loved what he was doing. I loved that he loved what he was doing, and I was lonely in our huge house, just me, rattling around like a little pea in a big pod. Because he loves me, he agreed, and as soon as we got back to Doha, I went to the vet and found Pete. I brought him home. Pete didn’t love me to start with – he loved AdventureMan. When AdventureMan would leave for work, Pete would howl in anguish. Slowly, slowly while he came to find me an acceptable substitute, he always loved AdventureMan the best.
So I was trying to do everything I could to guarantee Pete would travel with us to Kuwait. Travel was complicated by an outbreak of Bird Flu. While it didn’t affect people traveling on Qatar Air with falcons (birds!) it seemed to complicate travel for cats. AdventureMan came back a few days ahead and I told him of my frustration – I had a veterinary certificate, I had been assured by the airlines that Pete would travel with us but every person gave me a different answer. He got involved, and the day before we travelled, he got a firm “yes.”
We’ve lived in the MIddle East for years. We know “yes” isn’t always yes. We got to the airport early, to check in, to make sure everything went smoothly. It didn’t. The woman at the check-in desk said “No,” Pete couldn’t travel because of the bird flu. I said “we have him on the reservation!” and the woman said “He’s just a cat. Don’t you know they have many cats in Kuwait?” AdventureMan got involved, invoked the name of the high poohbah he had dealt with and got permission from. After many a phone call, and almost at the very last minute, Pete was allowed to fly.
I use this image of Magic Kingdom because flying into Kuwait from Doha was flying into a whole new world. You might think all Gulf Arab countries are alike, but you would be very wrong. Kuwait and Qatar have many interrelationships, many of the same families, but the culture was very different.
AdventureMan had reserved a limo – not what you are thinking. Not a big fancy car, but a sort of beat-up big car that could handle all our luggage and the cat, and would be waiting for us. Coming into Kuwait, getting a residence visa, getting to the limo was easy. What happened next was unexpected, and part of why we chose this kind of life.
The beloved Emir of Kuwait had died, and we arrived on the day of the coronation of his son. Important people from all over the Gulf and from many other countries were attending this event. It didn’t affect our arrival at the Kuwait Airport, because there is a special VIP terminal for important people. Getting out of the airport, however, was unbelievably complicated as cavalcade after cavalcade of important people stopped traffic so they could be rushed to the events surrounding the coronation. Just as we were about to turn onto the road to Fintas, where we were to live, we were cut off by a big sand-colored official SUV with six men hanging on the outside in desert fatigue uniforms carrying automatic rifles. These were not friendly looking guys, in fact it was a little bit terrifying.
And this was part of the magic of Kuwait, the contrasts and the unpredictability. First rule, you never never mess with the police (and there seemed to be several different kinds of police.)
When I had flown to Kuwait to look at housing, they showed me one apartment and many many villas. The villas were huge, two or three had their own indoor swimming pools, two had elevators. I chose the apartment, which had more square footage than the house we live in now.
I loved living in this eyrie, with it’s huge view over the Arab Gulf.
Scenes in Al Fintas
AdventureMan would never go out on our balcony. We would watch other high rises going up and know that the concrete was poured at night, but it was still very hot, the concrete often had more sand than was good, and many of these buildings are built at sea level. Like the collapsing buildings in Miami, we often had salt water in our underground parking garage. I had thought I could care for the apartment on my own, but the seals on the windows could not keep out the sand, and every day the tile floors were gritty with it. I couldn’t keep up. I was lucky to find a wonderful woman to help me; she also helped me understand many of the realities for expat-labor in Kuwait.
Some of the labor practices were horrifying. Kuwait and very modern laws and standards. Kuwait also has a system called “Wasta” which sort of translates to “who you know/who has influence” and depending on your “wasta” the standards may or may not have been maintained. Also, the fine, ever-present air-born sand creates engineering and maintenance difficulties that we can barely imagine.
We came to admire the laborers very much. They had a hard life. Most were sending everything they could back to families in their own countries, mostly to feed their families and to educate their children. Some were badly treated, some did not have jobs. You get used to thinking in a different way. We had regular beggers, men who waited outside our favorite restaurants knowing we would give them our bag full of food on our way back to the car. There were, of course, scammers, but most who asked for food or money were grateful, in a dignified way, for anything we could share. These men are building a fish trap – there is a way in, but no way out. It was fascinating to watch it being built.
In the late 1960’s, early 1970’s, Kuwait monitored their best male students, and sent these young men to study in different countries. Many went to the US and UK, and being young men, found themselves the kind of adventerous wives who would dare to marry a dashing foreigner and go to live with them in their country. (That is a topic for a whole other blog entry!)
I was fortunate to be friends with many of these women, who in turn introduced me to Kuwaiti women. These were all very fine women, a lot of fun, educated and skilled and sophisticated. It thrilled my heart to be an aging woman who still had so much to learn, and was blessed with these spirited mentors.
Below is a refrigerated water supply tower, put on the street by a generous and religious person to bless those who do not have access to cool water. You see them everywhere. I hope our country never becomes so desertified that we need to install these. I always loved that they are so joyful, so exuberantly creative. They are not only functional, they came in many different sizes, styles and shapes, and they always made me smile. This is what I call giving cheerfully!
Kuwait was often beautiful. Below is a window called meshrabiyya, it provides light; it also provides privacy for the viewer. Many buildings in Kuwait incorporate homages to earlier architectural traditions.
“Regrets, I have a few . . . ” Mostly I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, mostly just earrings I pick up on my travels. My son was getting married; I offered to help the bride with bridesmaids gifts and a Kuwaiti woman guided me to the old gold souk where a jeweler made these necklaces for me, raw emeralds and pearls. I did not get one for myself. I wish I had! You could find real treasures, original and nothing less than 18K and real gems. The workmanship was exquisite.
One of the great joys for us was the Magreb (sunset) call to prayer. Everywhere in Kuwait there were mosques on almost every block. At sunset, each would have a call to prayer. They started seconds apart, so there was a sort of lovely cacaphony of sound, voices raised praising God and reminding everyone to worship and praise. We would watch the light change as the sun set and listen to this marvelous sound.
So many mosques! So like Pensacola! Some were small and simple, some larger and ornate and a few gigantic mosques. I think of Kuwait early in the morning when one church, I think the downtown Presbyterian church, has a carillon concert. It’s not the call to prayer, but it’s the same idea, calling our hearts to be thankful for our creation.
And now, my favorite haunt in Kuwait, the Mubarakiyya. Mubarak is blessing, and the Mubarakiyya was a blessing to me. This is where we would go for the best dates (the dates you eat, and entire street of date vendors), cottons and fabrics for our stitching and clothing (no Macy’s in Kuwait), and for some of the best eating in Kuwait. The stalls and kitchens were miniscule, most had outdoor seating, and the food was FRESH. Our friend Mohammed said that the reason the tea was so good (the large brass pot sitting on a heater at our table) was that they never washed the pot, so it had an aged tannin flavor, LOL. We would eat Kuwaiti shrimp, mezze, and oh, the freshly baked bread. We would take our visiting experts to this souk, a place they might never otherwise experience, and thrill their hearts with the sights and sounds and smells.
I didn’t always have a great view, and driving home one night alone in the middle of a sandstorm is one of lifes most adrenalin filled moments. You can’t see, and you can’t breathe.
I will end this with a big smile. Near the Kuwaiti airport was a store that sold electric palm trees. AdventureMan told me that he’s always wanted one and threatened to buy one to bring back and put in our yard in Edmonds, or Pensacola. Horrified, I just let it slide, and it never happened . . .
Afghani Interpreters Begin Arriving
First group of evacuated Afghan interpreters arrives in US
from BBC News
(This morning, Adventureman’s heart is lighter. He is a Vietnam vet, and for many years has carried the guilt of our country having left behind so many people who worked with our forces so loyally, and suffered terribly when we pulled out. While we believe Afghanistan was not a winnable war (just look at history), he had anxiety that once again we would leave our allies behind.
We have a soft spot for Afghanistan. While we worked with the Department of State, way back before the Taliban, Afghanistan was considered by many to be a great post. The Afghani people were educated, and had a long and fascinating history. Afghani food is delicious. Day trips around Afghanistan opened people’s eyes to new ways of thinking and doing things. Even the Afghan clothing was comfortable and loose, perfect for the great heat of the summers. Friends who had served in Afghanistan shared wonderful stories and memories, and would gather for “Afghan Night” where they would prepare food for 100 of their best friends, of which we were honored to be included.
So to read that the first flight of interpreters and their families have arrived gave us great hope. Hope for a new group of citizens in our country who will work hard and share the gifts of their heritage, hope for their wives and daughters who we know to be amazing women, and hopes that one day there might be an Afghani restaurant in Pensacola!)
About 200 Afghan interpreters and their families have arrived in the US – the first of a group of 2,500 Afghans being evacuated as the Taliban advances.
The interpreters are being resettled under a visa programme for those who worked with the US during the recently ended 20-year war with the Taliban.
They arrived in the early hours of Friday morning and were taken to Fort Lee military base in Virginia.
They are expected to stay there for around a week while they are processed.
In a statement, US President Joe Biden called the arrivals “a milestone” and “the first of many” as US authorities work to relocate eligible Afghans out of harm’s way.
Afghans eligible for Special Immigrant Visas (SIV) will be transported either to the US, American facilities abroad or to third countries while they finish their applications. The most recent arrivals have already completed an extensive vetting process.
On Thursday, the US Senate approved more than $1bn (£719m) to pay for the evacuations, including housing and transportation.
The bill would also loosen applicant requirements and allow for 8,000 more visas in addition to the ones already allocated for.
The Taliban have been advancing Afghanistan following a decision by Mr Biden to withdraw the remaining American troops from the country.
With those advances have come danger to those who worked alongside US troops during the two-decade conflict.
Since 2008, approximately 70,000 Afghans have been resettled in the US on an SIV .
Last week, a senior state department official said that the total number of visa applicants now stands just over 20,000. About half have yet to complete the first steps of the process.
Those yet to go through the process face potential threats in attempting to secure a visa. Mike Jason, a former US Army battalion commander who was deployed to Afghanistan, told the BBC that travelling across Taliban-controlled areas with the documentation needed for SIVs puts interpreters in “mortal danger”.
“That’s basically an entire confession that you’re an interpreter working for the Americans. We’re asking them to travel with the evidence,” he said.
Not-for-profit group No One Left Behind estimates that at least 300 Afghans or their family members have been killed for working with the US.
The Taliban were removed from power by the US-led invasion in 2001, following the attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York.
Fighting between the insurgent Taliban and Afghan government forces has increased over the past two months as international troops pull out of the country.
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