Fresh Start
I always get a burst of energy between Christmas and New Year’s. Truly, for me, new hope has come into the world. It doesn’t have to be rational, it’s just the way it is for me. I get all kinds of old messes cleaned up, I sort, I organize, I throw out or I hem/mend/ cut down to make something useful once again.
It made the dark months of winter pass more quickly in Seattle and in Germany, where many days go from black to dark grey and then back to black again. Here in Kuwait, with all the sunshine, it is just so much easier. Every day dawns in blues and pinks – how can life be bad when a day starts so beautifully?
There is one sharp sword hanging over me – taxes. *gnashing of teeth* I am pretty good about keeping receipts all in one place all year, but taxes for xpats can be complicated, and our tax guy sends a worksheet – like 14 pages – for us to fill out every year. It really isn’t that hard, but I dread it.
Over a year ago, the US government changed the way expats are taxed. Even worse, they snuck it in as an amendment, I think to a military appropriations or budget bill, and no one was aware of the implications until it was a done-deal. It is a nightmare. In one year, we went from qualifying for refunds to owing a burdensome debt of taxes. Aaarrgh.
I have a list of projects I want to do this year, some challenging, some just fun. Some projects left over from previous years I want to get done once and for all. I see 2008 as a great luxury, all those days, an entire year, stretching out before me in which I can get these things done. Woooo Hooooooo!
The Great Migration (2)
After two wonderful days in Grumeti River Lodge we transfer to the CCAfrica’s Serengeti Under Canvas Program, with the first camp being a short drive from the Grumeti River Lodge.
We LOVE tent camping. We used to camp out of a Volkswagon bus across the US with a baby and a cat (now that was an adventure!), in Tunisia, in Jordan. Now, I still love camping, and I particularly love it CCAfrica style – maximum 8 tents to a camp, a huge bed with good linens, an indoor shower and toilet, brass water containers, all very Hemingway in feeling. I love having coffee brought to the tent early in the morning, and I love the quiet shuuussshhhing of the wind through the high African grasses. We have our own dining tent to the side of our tent, which is high on the ridge, or we can choose to eat with the others.
Here is a view looking out from our tent across the Serengeti Plains:
There is one little fly in the ointment – to get in and out of this camp, we drive our open vehicles through an area infested with tsetse flies. I am terribly, horribly allergic to mosquitos and to tsetse flies, and of course they find me irresistible. I am totally wrapped up in local large cotton wraps called kikoy – I look like a very colorful bedu woman, all covered except for my eyes.
But it’s worth it. I take tubes of Benedryl2 with me and lather it on morning and night to keep the size of the bites down.
First trip out of the game camps we find gnus at a water crossing. No hungry alligators, but it’s wonderful getting to watch them crossing:
There are only four of us in the Rover, so we can spend all the time we need watching the elephants. It’s always a delight to find a mother with a baby. The elephants are so sweet with the babies:
Early one morning, we catch a group of hyena:
Even better, as sundown nears, we find a pride of lions, catching the last rays of the day and preparing to hunt:
I have one of the early Lumix models, an FZ10. It takes beautiful photos, even under very low-light conditions. It is small, lightweight, fairly fast, shoots movies as well as stills, captures audio, and oh – did I mention small and lightweight? It has the equivalent of a 420mm lens, in a small body. It is an amazing camera and gets amazing shots.
Sundown has it’s own rituals, with a stop every night for refreshments and a toast to the setting sun:
We spend two nights at the Grumeti River Camp, following the herds, photographing as they drink, as they trek, but in truth, you simply can’t imagine the scale of The Great Migration unless you see it for yourself. At one point, we sat in the center of a road as thousands of gnu and zebra filed past.
We sat for an hour, shooting stills and shooting movies, and when we left, the line just kept going. We were surrounded. Sometimes it would thin a little, and sometimes the gnu would start to gallop and they would all start to gallop and the sounds of their hooves would thunder on the ground.
Other times, we would be sitting, and we would hear the sound of the gnu just shhhhussshhh, shhuusssss, shuussshhhhhh, interspersed with the occasional “hungh? hungh? hungh?”
Watching the zebras drinking, all would be quiet and then all of a sudden one would twitch or panic or something, and then you would hear loud “SWWWOOOOOOOSSSHHHing” noises as they rushed out of the water. We loved the vastness of the Migration, the enormity of it, the huge, grand overwhelming scale of it all, but for me, it was these sounds that have stuck in my memory.
AdventureMan and I find these experiences nourish our souls. We feel close to God in the African wild. We love the sights, and the smells and the sounds. We love meeting the African people. When we get back, we can still sniff the smell of wood-burning campfires lingering in our clothing.
Next, we head for Klein’s Wilderness Camp.
Christian vs Christian
This is just purely sad. You can read the whole story at BBC World News.
Unholy dust-up at Nativity church
Members of rival Christian orders have traded blows at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, with four people reported wounded in the fray. Greek Orthodox and Armenian Apostolic priests were sweeping up at the church following the Christmas rites of the Western churches earlier in the week.
Reports say some Orthodox faithful encroached on the Armenian section, prompting pitched battles with brooms.
Intense rivalries at the jointly-run church can set off vicious feuds.
The basilica, built over the grotto in the West Bank town that is the reputed birthplace of Jesus Christ is shared by Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Armenian religious authorities.
Palestinian police formed a human cordon to separate the battling dark-robed and bearded priests and deacons, said to number about 80, so that cleaning could continue.
Read the rest of the story here.
Big Bubbas
I found my way to my seat, and looked around hopefully to see how full the plane was getting. Sometimes, this flight has some empty seats, and I am hoping one of them is next to me so I can sleep, get to Kuwait a little refreshed.
Two seats up, two very large men are looking at one another in dismay. I can hardly keep from laughing out loud – these are big, beefy American contractors, look like boys from the mid-West, one in farmer-like denim coveralls, both with big bottoms, big bellies, and huge big beefy shoulders. These kinds of guys spill way over the armrests, if you know what I mean.
“This isn’t gonna work,” says one to the other. They look around. One spots me, and says “Once the flight takes off, I’ll find a place to sit with a little more room.”
Ya’ll think I am really nice, but not so nice when it comes to having my territory invaded. I fluffed myself out to try to look bigger, and I scowled a very very UNFRIENDLY scowl. I would not want to sit next to someone who looked mean and unsociable like me!
Fortunately there was a lot of room on the flight, and the bubbas found places where they could be comfortable. I had an extra seat next to me, too, and got the sleep I needed. I no longer needed to scowl.
I still get a big grin though, thinking of the look on their faces when they thought of trying to fit those two great big bulky bodies into the already skimpy spaces allotted for two people.
But / And
Several years ago I was working for a charismatic leader. He was amazing, he built something out of nothing, and changed countless lives. I felt very privileged to be a part of his team.
I managed a particular program for him, and I raised money for college scholarships so that poor kids, who were smart but had very small chance of going on to university without outside help, would have the promise of a full-tuition paid scholarship if they kept their grades up, stayed drug free, attended cultural events for which we provided free tickets, donated by our very generous sponsors (museums! baseball games! fishing trips! opera! symphony! our sponsors were SO generous!)
From this leader I learned many things, and one sticks with me in my daily life – using “and” instead of “but.”
Here is what he explained to me – when you reply with “but”, you are negating what the previous speaker – or even you, yourself – said. When you use “and” instead of “but”, you open up the possibility of two different things co-existing.
I challenge you to try it.
It will change your life.
Eliminate “but” from your vocabulary. Replace it with “and.” It opens an amazing new world.
Here is an example:
“She wants to go to the mall, but I want to go to the movies.” (Implies that these things are mutually exclusive)
“She wants to go to the mall, and I want to go to the movies.” (Implies we can do both!)
“And” gives room for negotiation, for finding a bigger frame that includes all the wants and needs, with a little co-operation.
I challenge YOU to give it a try. Give it a try for just one day – see how it works. Come back here and tell us how it worked for you.
Fashion Nightmare
One of the classic worst nightmares you can have is where you dream you have shown up somewhere naked. No, I didn’t show up naked. But I can tell you that it was the next best thing, and there was nothing I could do. And I survived it, and I never had that bad dream again.
The priest in our church had asked me if I would take a visiting nun around to show her some of the local spots in Qatar. She was doing work in Afghanistan, getting schools up and running for Afghani girls, and I was eager to hear about her work, and show her some projects in Doha. I had gladly agreed, and had a plan outlined for all the places I could take her.
When I arrived at the church house, wearing my rattiest jeans skirt and cover-up shirt, so as to be inconspicuous as we visited various places in the poorer sections of town, the priest came out and said the nun would be out in a minute, and why didn’t I come in, that there had been a “slight” change in plans and that another woman would be coming too, and she was taking us to a Palestinian project.
I don’t hold it against the priest. He lived in another world, a world so full of God and his glory that he didn’t really have any understanding of the world of women.
The other woman arrived, and she was gorgeous. She was wearing Issa Miyake, she was perfectly and subtly made up, and we were not going to a charitable project, but to a charitable fund-raising breakfast. I had thoughts of killing the priest.
The nun arrived, and she was dressed in a decent pants and shirt; neither of us appropriately dressed but off we go, to a clubhouse filled with dressed-to-the-teeth women and their daughters, raising money for popular causes on a Saturday morning. We were severely underdressed. All we could do was hold our heads high and pretend we didn’t notice. Inside, I was torn between laughing and crying.
Our hostess didn’t seem to see the fact that we were poorly dressed, and was very gracious to us, and in future days, the two of us became good friends. We often laughed about the priest, his goodness of heart and his blindness to some of life’s realities, like giving fair warning of what you are doing so you can dress appropriately. It all turned out OK.
When people come to me and tell me something terribly, horribly and publicly embarrassing that has happened to them, and ask me how they will survive, I tell them what I believe to be true – that most people are so absorbed in their own lives that they barely notice much about others, and that people have short memories. What may seem to be a huge deal today, will be yesterday’s news by tomorrow, and barely remembered in a couple months. By the time a year has gone by, some people will even think it might have been someone else who committed the faux pas.
On the other hand, in the small German village where I lived, there were two families who never mixed because their grandmothers had a huge fight many many years ago (people can’t remember exactly what it was about) but the legacy lives on.
So I wonder, how does it work in Kuwait?
The Little Princess
My maid/housekeeper was away, back in her own country, and her substitute can clean, but is hopeless with entertaining. I have about 25 guests coming, good people, and I am not too worried, but I am a little behind schedule pretty much the entire event, as I try to greet guests and make them welcome, get the food out, keep the food coming, keep the coffee and tea ready and and and . . . you get the idea.
As the event neared to a close, one of my friends, the little Princess, is right by my side, clearing dishes, rinsing, bringing things from the salon to the kitchen – and this is a woman we all kid, we call her the little Princess because her husband adores her, and she never has to lift a finger.
“You don’t have to do this!” I exclaim, knowing once the last guest is gone, I can take my time, and it will all get done.
“”But you look so tired!” she exclaims in return.
I am puzzled. I don’t feel tired.
“I don’t FEEL tired,” I respond, and she says “But you have no lipstick, and your hair is all tangled . . .” and I realize to my utter horror that in my focus on getting everything ready for my guests, I forgot to put on any makeup, or to do my hair. I FORGOT!
I am still laughing at myself, partly in HORROR. How could I forget to comb my hair???
Kuwait Camels
When we used to drive around Qatar, we would see camels out roaming everywhere. I imagine it used to be that way in Kuwait, too, until the Gulf War, when the retreating Iraqis seeded the deserts with explosive devices. Even now, every month a shepherd or two loses a limb to an unexploded piece of ordnance in the desert. We don’t just jump in the car and go out exploring here – sadly, it’s not safe, or it’s only safe when you are with people who know where it is safe and where it isn’t. We have friends who tell us, with a sigh, about the beautiful places they would go to see the wildflowers, but no more.
Now and then we will see a camel in a large, empty nearby plot of land, under the sparse trees, sometimes a mother with a baby. Most of the time, I only see camels when I go to shop at the Sultan Center in Al Kout. There is also a very large fresh vegetable, chicken/egg, meat and fish market there, and when I see these unsuspecting and unconcerned camels in the back of a truck, I have a bad feeling that they are destined for the meat market.
Mom’s Rosemary Tree
One of my philosophies – no, no, don’t run away, this isn’t all that deep – is that things have a way of working out. No matter how too horrible everything can get, things work out, this passes, and in today’s hurried, bustling, transitory world, even the worst events fall into oblivion much of the time.
Mom phoned with a request – Lowe’s was having a sale on Rosemary trees, only $8.97, could we get one for her? She likes to have a sweet smelling Rosemary tree outside on her balcony. We went to Lowe’s immediately, first thing in the morning, and . . . they were already gone! There were more expensive ones – like double the price – but all the on-sale ones were already gone. Honestly, there must not have been very many to start with.
(You are probably asking why I didn’t just go ahead and buy it for her anyway. It’s not allowed. She gives her daughters envelopes of money and when we buy things for her that she has asked for, we have to pay from out of that envelope, or she won’t ask us anymore; it’s a matter of pride.)
From that day on, I kept an eye out for Rosemary trees (just maybe 16″ high), Home Depot, Fred Meyer, some of the larger local floral shops – nothing, or double what she wanted to pay.
Then, on my very last day in Seattle, I took Mom to Trader Joe’s. We all like Trader Joe’s, who carried foods and candies and cookies and wines that other more conventional grocers don’t carry. Mom needed to stock up for all her Christmas guests and Christmas entertaining. And there – for only $8.64, not even on sale, was the perfect Rosemary tree. It smelled divine. Here it is, safe in Mom’s basket:
Episodes Online
While in the US, my sister informed me that I could go different places and watch episodes of TV shows I like any time I like. Pretty cool. I didn’t have the time while I was back there, but today I wanted to catch up on one show, and this is the message I got:
Only viewers with the United States can watch these full-length episodes.
I believe that is true, and I also believe that . . . there are probably ways around it. So how do I get around it?
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