Rose-Colored Sunrise 31 Dec 2008
When we got up this morning, it was DARK, at a time when it is normally lighter. When I looked out my window, there were heavy clouds, everything looked dark and sombre:
Minutes later, the sun begins to break through and the clouds look less substantial:
And then – the light! The sun breaks through!
And, a short time later, the day shimmers in silver and gold:
All that drama, and the morning is yet young! Wooo HOOOO, what a day this might be!
These are funny days, December 29th – 31st, days in which those who follow the Islamic calendar are already in the new year, and days in which we are still waiting. Tomorrow we will all be back on track, starting off a new year. In Kuwait, schools this week reported 85% absenteeism. Schools were open – but the students didn’t come!
AdventureMan and I briefly reviewed our year 2008 before praying this morning. For us – even though our financial investments are (on paper) in the depths – this has been a very good year. We have each other, and we have our sweet Qatteri Cat.
We have been greatly blessed to have had more time with our son this year than any year we can remember in the last ten years. We love our time with him, and with his wife. We have had weddings, and lots of family times with my family. We have had wonderful times with our friends, old and new. God has blessed us abundantly.
In every way that really matters, life is sweet. We thank God for 2008. We thank God, even for the challenges that 2009 will bring.
Brothers and sisters, we wish you peace, peace in your spirits, peace in your families, peace in your nations, and a desire to meet all obstacles with peaceful intentions. We wish you peaceful times with family, and peaceful resolutions of any conflicts. May your New Year be filled with unexpected blessings!
Cross Cultural Eating
“And we are going to roast chestnuts!” my good friend said, and inwardly I cringed.
I remember years ago, when a French friend told me her mother was bringing marron glace to Tunisia, she was so excited, she could talk of nothing else for days.
“And when she comes,” my friend said, “you must come over and we shall eat marron glace together!” Her mother came, I was invited, and eager. Then I took my first bite of marron glace, and almost gagged. It was the flavor. It was the texture. I didn’t like them at all! Fortunately, there were other small foods, and I could push the chestnut around and hide it on my plate, and politely demur that I didn’t want to eat all her special marrons and deprive her of the pleasure.
We love being with this couple, and I accepted the invitation. Little did I know, as I dreaded being polite about the roasted chestnuts, that a perfectly roasted chestnut is a different food altogether! We sat outside, on a mile winter’s night in Kuwait, around a eucalyptus fire, with that fabulous aromatic smoke drifting around us, eating toasted delicious chestnuts and enjoying every bite.
Some things you just grow up knowing are wrong wrong wrong. Another friend wrinkled her nose when I told her my favorite Christmas dish was cranberry gelatin salad. In her experience, jello salads were full of horrid things like miniature marshmallows, whipped cream, cottage cheese. For her, it was inelegant, just about the worst thing you could say about any food. (To her surprise, she ended up liking the gelatin salad.)
“Oh, Harissa!” my Qatteri friend nearly swooned in bliss, when I asked her about her favorite Ramadan treat. I could hardly wait to try it, and when I did – it was the texture that stopped me cold in my tracks. I can’t even tell you how it tasted; there was a viscosity in it that deterred me from trying another bite.
When we go out with my Chinese friend for dim-sum, there are dishes she won’t even let us try. We trust her; she really knows what will be over the line for us. Chicken’s feet, for one. They bring out so many dishes, there are plenty that we like, and we never go hungry.
For my husband, a Southerner, it isn’t Thanksgiving or Christmas without cornbread dressing. I have to keep him out of the South to keep him alive; when we live in the South, he can’t resist the deep fried seafood. For me, I have to stay away from France and Germany, I love the pate´, the terrines, the cassoulet; the fatty geese, the fatty duck, the fried the vegetables and salads laced with lardons.
When we eat at one of the Japanese restaurants here, I can’t help but wonder how really Japanese the food is – when I have eaten with Japanese friends, there are odd colored things made with fruit juice, delicate morsels of unidentified meat . . . I suspect there are things common on Japanese menus in Japan that they know we won’t eat, and they don’t even bother to put on the menus in the US, or in Kuwait. When I see the cooks, I don’t think most of them are Japanese, and I wonder if Japanese people here ever ask for a truly Japanese dish, only to learn that the cook doesn’t know what it is.
One of the best things about living in another country is that you learn that the things you take for granted, you can’t take for granted. I learned that you can’t trust that every person you meet was raised eating with a fork. I learned ways to eat with my hands and not be messy. I learned that in some countries, you NEVER touch food with your fingers, you always use a utensil. I learned that in some countries, it is considered “uncultured” to drink your coffee with cream or sugar or any additive. I learned in some countries, you never smile in the market until you have agreed on a price. I learned in some countries, you can have a cup of tea while shopping and it doesn’t obligate you to buy. I’ve learned things I don’t even know I’ve learned, conquered prejudices I didn’t even know I had. I’ve stepped on toes, thinking I was behaving politely. I’ve violated customs I didn’t know existed. Some of what I have learned has been painful . . . and worth the pain.
Tai Ho in Kenmore, revisited
I can never go back to Seattle without touching bases with my best friend from college, we never miss a beat, once we are back together, even after all these years, it’s just all about catching up, and there is never a dull moment. It is particularly delightful to me that she and my husband also get along so well.
Many times, with her busy schedule, with my blowing into town for a short time, we have to catch what time we can together. Last time I was there, she introduced me to Tai Ho, and oh! WOW!
This time we ordered totally different things – and the food was equally delicious. Wontons, Dumplings, Noodle Soup with Chinese Pickles, Shrimp with vegetables, and Chicken with Black Beans and garlic – great food, even better conversation, and an wonderful, unforgettable evening. Everything was delicious, but the noodle soup was my hands-down favorite. They make their own noodles, and on a cold night, oh, hot Chinese noodle soup – my favorite.
TrueBlood
For so many reasons, we thank God for our son, and one of the most trivial – but most fun – is that he introduces us to series we love, like The Wire, like My Name is Earl, and like True Blood..
Sookie - Anna Paquin
You would not think True Blood is the kind of HBO drama that would appeal to seriously grown-up people like AdventureMan and me. I mean honestly, vampires have “come out of the coffin” because blood has been synthesized, and they no longer need human victims. Sounds pretty far fetched, doesn’t it? And the main character, a lovely and a little spacy waitress named Sookie, has a bad habit of overhearing other people’s thoughts . . . and then, she saves a vampire’s life and they fall in love . . . It all sounds like something we would not find interesting, doesn’t it?
True Blood is totally addictive. We watched it with our son and his wife, the way we do with other series, two or three a night. When it came time we really really really needed to go to be, we all groaned, and looked forward to the next night. The writing is that good. The series is very funny, at times gruesome, and WARNING, the sex is energetic, in-your-face and frequent. The writers are good – even great. You find yourself repeating the lines – some of the lines are totally priceless.
There are so many great pieces of writing, small jokes, funny self-deprecating humor – but our all time, hands-down favorite is when one of the waitresses talks about a fight she had with her boyfriend and says “Fine! Men always say ‘fine!’ and walk away! If every fight is going to end in ‘fine!’ why do they even bother arguing in the first place?” We totally love that line.
Part of the funkiness of the whole vampire-in-real-life scene is the setting, in Bon Temps, Louisiana, and all the Southern accents, Cajun characters – and vampires, etc. Bee-yill, (Bill), Sookie’s vampire heartthrob, is a Civil War veteran, who speaks to her Grandmother’s group, the Descendants of the Glorious Dead. I mean the writing is FUNNY! AdventureMan says it would be better to be a vampire in places like Seattle, where the weather is gloomy and dark, but he forgets that in summer, the sun doesn’t go down until 10 at night, so vampires might do all right in the winter, but the summers would, ahem, fry them.
The characters have some of that deep southern charm, they have known each other most of their lives, they talk about the people they come from. Sookie’s sex-addicted brother is twice accused of murder, and begins to believe (he is not too bright) that maybe he is the murderer. There is a lot of anti-Vampire rhetoric, while the Vampires are fighting for “equal rights.” We don’t really know what those rights are – the right to vote? to marry? to own property? Do the dead have equal rights to the living? Some interesting areas for thought . . .
The themes are adult, and – well, vampires are a dark subject. These episodes are not something you want to watch with children around. Nonetheless, there manages to be moments of utter hilarity, and the good manage to maintain their goodness, even in the face of evil. We love the writing. We can’t wait for the next season.
Anonymouse
While visiting another blog, I learned a new trick. I know most you you already know how to do these things, but some of us who were not born into these new technologies take a little longer to learn all the tricks you take for granted.
From my blogging friend in Damascus, Souvenirs and Scars, I learned about Anonymouse where you can go to access websites that may be blocked in the country where you live. Pretty cool, huh? I am betting that there are others I don’t know about – how on earth do any of these countries think they can block the free flow of information? That bell can’t be un-rung!
Black Friday
Black Friday – the Friday after Thanksgiving – bargain hunters in the USA head to the stores. Some stores opened as early as midnight to attract bargain hunters. Many more open around 5 or 6 in the morning. Most have loss leaders – i.e. specially priced items, maybe even below cost – hoping people will come in looking for the bargains and buy something else.
Not me.
Not in a million years.
I did it one year; we had just come back to the US after living for years on Germany. I needed 110v Christmas lights, so I went to a store at 0530 and stood in line until it opened at 6 and got many packages . . . but not enough. Later in the day I went back to see if there were any of the bargain priced lights left, and there were stacks and stacks of them. I learned my lesson.
We also learned that many things go on sale a couple days before in some stores, or are still on sale and in good supply the following Monday.
I hate lines. I hate competitive shopping. I have seen women grab things out of one another’s hands, I have seen them race down the aisles . . . and I just ask myself “What is this all about?” I have that primitive instinct too, hunting down that elusive bargain, bagging it and getting it home – but at what cost?
Anomaly – while gas prices have dropped back to reasonable rates here, fewer Americans are traveling this year. Normally, Thanksgiving is the holiday with the highest accident rate of all the holidays because of the road traffic, but because Americans are holding tight to their purses this year, fewer are on the road or in the air.
We are packing up today and moving on to the next stop. We will stop and see good friends en route to our destination, have a meal and a good visit with them . . .
yes, yes, thank you, we had a truly wonderful and memorable Thanksgiving, a truly Southern Thanksgiving, with family, with friends, and I will share it with you as soon as I get a card-reader so I can upload to the computer. 🙂 There were three kinds of turkey – a deep fried turkey, a smoked turkey, and turkey breast pieces pan-fried in batter, like chicken nuggets only fresher, and tasty. My favorite was a big bucket of venison stew, one of the hunters had bagged a big buck up in Kentucky.
I don’t believe there was a steamed vegetable or un-sauced vegetable in sight! Lots of gelatins made with sour cream or cream cheese, macaroni and cheese, three or four different kinds of stuffings and sweet on sweet sweet potatoes . . . and then came dessert, oh my. The tables – separate stations for meats, stuffings, vegetables and salads – were groaning, but then again, there were many many people to feed. My Southern husband was in heaven, eating all the foods I don’t know how to make and never dreamed of making.
The very best part of Thankgiving was the visiting. It was like one great big diwaniyya, with people in the kitchen and living room, people way out back shucking oysters and peeling shrimp, loads of ice tea all made up, sweet, unsweet, Splenda, lemondade . . . young people playing football or running around. . . it was a very sweet family day, beautiful weather, you couldn’t order a nicer Thanksgiving, and we were so delighted to be included.
Indian Drivers the Worst
When it came time to get a driver’s license, it wasn’t important to me. I was living in a place with great public transportation. When I finally decided to learn to drive, I took driving lessons. My best friend, still my friend to this very day, would take me out driving. One time my car stalled in the middle of a crowded intersection, the light changed, and I was almost out of my mind with panic.
My friend calmly said “You’re doing just fine. Take a breath. You have time. Start the car, and complete the turn.” She didn’t sound worried at all – only later did I discover how terrified she was. She held it together. I will owe her to the end of my life for her loyalty to me and for her patience with me.
This is from the Arab Times. My mistake – I thought Kuwait was the deadliest spot on earth to drive. Not so – the Indians take that cake:
Good luck needed as Indians drive themselves to death
MUMBAI, Oct 23, 2008 (AFP) – The Good Luck Motor Training School in Mumbai is aptly named, according to its owner, Sohail ‘Raja’ Kappadia, who says luck is exactly what you need to drive on India’s roads.
Kappadia knows it only too well: a friend recently became another of the country’s shocking fatal road accident statistics, while one of his pupils has just rammed into the back of another car during a lesson.
‘Sometimes you just don’t know if the guy in front is going to brake,’ he told AFP with a shrug. ‘Presence of mind is a must here. Most of the accidents in Mumbai are due to rash negligence.’
India has the dubious distinction of being the deadliest place in the world to drive.
The country has 10 percent of the estimated 1.2 million road deaths worldwide, according to the International Road Federation in Geneva.
Mortality rates on Indian roads are 14 per 10,000 vehicles, compared to less than two per 10,000 in developed countries, the World Bank has said.
And by the end of the next decade, the organisation predicted that road deaths will overtake those from deadly diseases and most of the fatalities will be pedestrians.
It is not difficult to see why.
Drivers here run the gauntlet of speeding taxis, weaving auto-rickshaws, trucks and buses as well as hand-carts and cows on congested, pot-holed roads, some of which have remained largely unchanged since the end of the colonial era more than 60 years ago.
At the same time they have to be on their guard against stray dogs and jaywalking pedestrians, forced into the road by the clutter of street vendors, crumbling pavements or crossings.
Meanwhile laws governing the wearing of seatbelts and a ban on using mobile phones at the wheel are frequently flouted, indicators are seldom used and at night drivers often fail to switch on their headlights.
Motorcyclists riding without helmets with pillion passengers perched behind are a common sight.
For a learner driver, Shahik Arqam looks unfazed by such experiences.
‘It’s a little bit difficult but I know how other drivers work,’ the 24-year-old architect said.
During an hour-long lesson in a battered right-hand drive Hyundai Santro, Arqam has had to be alert.
Other drivers made no allowance for the red L-plates and warning triangle displayed prominently on the car.
Instead he was treated like any other road user and blasted by a chorus of car horns for driving too slowly, failing to pull away quickly enough from traffic lights or for stalling.
Filtering vehicles from the left failed to give way as he headed down the main road to Churchgate railway station, and he had to hold his nerve as cars swerved in and out of lanes in the tussle for pole position.
Mohsin Ali, an instructor for 12 years, takes Mumbai’s chaotic roads in his stride, gently issuing either verbal instructions or hand signals to his pupil as the car picked its way through the heavy mid-afternoon traffic.
‘If you follow the traffic rules then it’s very easy,’ the 39-year-old said afterwards. ‘Compared to Calcutta (Kolkata) and Madras (Chennai) the traffic is better here.’
To be sure, the Mumbai authorities have been trying to make the roads safer.
Roadsigns reminding drivers to belt up, only use the horn when necessary — rather than in constant cacophony, as encouraged by the ‘horn please’ request painted on the rear of many vehicles — and not use their mobile phones have appeared across the city.
Signs also remind motorcyclists to wear helmets and there has been a crackdown on drink-driving.
Some 632 people died in what the Indian media calls road traffic ‘mishaps’ in Mumbai in 2007, but by the end of August that had fallen to 377, according to police figures.
Kappadia agrees that better driver training is a must if safety is to be improved on India’s roads, particularly as private car ownership increases on the back of the country’s strong economic growth.
The 33-year-old said he would ban heavy goods vehicles from cities during the day, toughen sentences for drink-drivers, improve road infrastructure and spread the message that speed kills, especially among the young.
Some welcome measures have been taken, such as raising entry standards and lowering age limits for truck drivers, but more needs to be done, he said.
In the meantime, the Indian driving mantra of ‘good brakes, good horn, good luck’ will have to do.
Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving
Tomorrow is the official Canadian Thanksgiving, although our Canadian friends have been partying and dining in splendor throughout the weekend. If you have any Canadian friends, be sure to greet them on their special holiday.
Wikipedia says:
Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day (Canadian French: Action de grâce), is an annual one-day holiday to give thanks to God for the things one has at the close of the harvest season. The holiday is celebrated on the second Monday in October.
While the actual Thanksgiving holiday is on a Monday, Canadians might eat their Thanksgiving meal on any day of the three day weekend. Thanksgiving is often celebrated with family, it is also often a time for weekend getaways for couples to observe the autumn leaves, spend one last weekend at the cottage, or participate in various outdoor activities such as hiking, fishing, and hunting.
I saw several references to the Canadian Thanksgiving deriving from the American Thanksgiving, but Wikipedia says otherwise:
The history of Thanksgiving in Canada goes back to an explorer, Martin Frobisher, who had been trying to find a northern passage to the Orient. In the year 1578, he held a formal ceremony, in what is now the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, to give thanks for surviving the long journey.
This feast is considered by many to be the first Thanksgiving celebration in North America, although celebrating the harvest and giving thanks for a successful bounty of crops had been a long-standing tradition throughout North America by various First Nations and Native American groups. First Nations and Native Americans throughout the Americas, including the Pueblo, Cherokee, Cree and many others organized harvest festivals, ceremonial dances, and other celebrations of thanks for centuries before the arrival of Europeans in North America [2]. Frobisher was later knighted and had an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean in northern Canada named after him — Frobisher Bay.
At the same time, French settlers, having crossed the ocean and arrived in Canada with explorer Samuel de Champlain, also held huge feasts of thanks. They even formed ‘The Order of Good Cheer’ and gladly shared their food with their First Nations neighbours.
The centerpiece of the Canadian Thanksgiving is the turkey and stuffing, surrounded by dishes made of root vegetables and gourds – beets, turnips, pumpkin, squashes, etc.
Those Canadians with French roots add special dishes to the mix:
Tortiere (a fabulous meat pie)
Maple Syrup Pie
I grabbed these photos from a fabulous Quebec blogger page where she has included recipes for the above, and for many other Canadian specialties. I wish One Whole Clove were still blogging. In the meanwhile, visit her pages for some delicious and out-of-the-ordinary delights.
Wishing all of our Canadian friends a delicious and delightful Thanksgiving, with many many blessings for which to be thankful, and for an abundant year to come.
C’mon By for some Birthday Cake
Today, Here There and Everywhere is 2 years old. I cannot thank you enough for the treasure of your friendship. My life, here in Kuwait, without your greetings and your input, would be much poorer. You have enriched us all with your perspectives, with your good will, with your humor.
I thank all of you, bloggers, non-bloggers, even those who come by regularly and never say hello. Thank you most of all to Google, Safat, and those of you who have mentioned me to others, and who have stopped by regularly. Bless you all. 🙂
I remember, when I first started, maybe 30 people a day would come by. Probably six of those were me checking the site to see if anyone had come by!
I found the most amazing website while I was looking for some sparkly cakes to serve you as you come by to say hello:
Pink Cake Box, out of Denville, New Jersey. This lady is doing some of the most adorable, lively, original and fun cakes I have ever seen. It looks like she is having a good time – and what a dream come true, to be having a good time and making money, too.
Here is a picture of her and her brother ( a doctor) and a cake they made together:
There’s full strength coffee from the Pacific Northwest, Chai, Hot English tea and Lapsang Souchong, some fruit juices, and maybe a little something stronger for those of you who are not Muslim.
I am posting this after sundown so as not to torture those of you who are fasting for the month of Ramadan. May your fast be blessed.
Becoming Kuwaiti and Oatmeal
I’m not a big fan of oatmeal, so when my best-friend-from-college raved about eating oatmeal in the morning, I listened, even though the gag-reflex was about to kick in. She raved about one particular brand – Snoqualamie Falls oatmeal:
And then, she went one better, she sent me a bag of it. I tried it a couple times. It’s still oatmeal.
Where do the skaters come in, you are asking?
Age creeps up on you. With any luck at all, you lose your bad habits along the way, but some of them stick like glue. I am telling you this, because it is Ramadan, and I am guessing you understand a little. Our sermon in church this week and our readings have had to do with temptation, and how if you focus on something – like “I will not think about jellybeans,” then it is all you think about. Our readings tell us to focus on something else, like reading spiritual writings, or becoming actively involved in some activity that takes you mind totally off the temptation.
I think of myself as a skater. When I was an adolescent, I had what I call roller-coaster grades. I would skate along doing the minimum, and then when it was time to get a paper in or study for a final grade, I would pull out all the stops, and I would get the grade I wanted . . . . most of the time. I underachieved just often enough to stick a grain of doubt in my mind that this was the path to success.
Because God has a sense of humor, he gave me a son with the same pattern, and this smart, cheerful, inventive kid did the minimum until grading time, and then he would pull through, while my I watched in horrified fascination. (Have you noticed, you are always tougher on those who exhibit your own shortcomings?)
So, mature as I am, I have developed a lot of self-discipline and patience and persistence through the years, things I call the harder gifts. I learned them from Motherhood, and from dealing with the normal troubles that come through living life, and all that life throws at you.
Or so I thought. This summer, at my well-woman appointment, I gave up my blood samples and received, in return, a lot of bad news.
I am borderline diabetic. I am borderline hypertensive. I am overweight. I have bad cholesterol out of proportion to the good cholesterol.
I’ve been skating close to those readings for years, but coming to Kuwait, I sort of stopped exercising. I haven’t been as physically active as before. I started blogging, which is sedentary to the max. I thought I could skate, but now the grim reckoning has been presented to me.
I really don’t want to go on a medication I will have to take for the rest of my life. I really don’t want to go on a medication that may have side effects no one knows yet because they are so new. To avoid going on medications, the doctor is giving me one year to reduce my weight, and I had to promise to exercise a minimum of 30 minutes 5 days a week. He gave me a long list of foods not to eat, and foods to avoid. Aaarrgh.
Because God is merciful, and knows our needs long before we do, and because he provides generously, I still have my oatmeal, which I have now pulled our and am eating regularly. I eat it Pacific Northwest Style – with blueberries and raspberries, which are also supposed to be good for me.
I found something else in the US that I love, but I can’t find it here – or at least not yet. Have you seen Kashi Pilaf or Kashi breakfast cereal?
I know I promised not to post any food photos while you are fasting, but oatmeal? To me, oatmeal doesn’t even count, it’s like medicine, like who on earth yearns for oatmeal?
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