Parking Wall of Shame
At the Al Manshar Mall, where there are only about forty spaces for a huge mall:
Emergency Lane Rant
It’s not your arrogance that drives me totally crazy, as much as the fact that your arrogance puts us all at risk.
First, you are driving too fast, and weaving between cars. Yep, it looks like fun, but you’re cutting it a little close, brother. And if you are young and have all your wits about you, you might do OK, but if you are tired, if you are drinking, if you are on drugs, your reactions are impaired and so is your judgement.
We can’t help but bear witness to your carnage along the sides of the road. It’s not like they sit there for weeks. The tow trucks haul them away, and they are replaced overnight with new, bloodier, twisted wreckage. The highways are littered with your crumpled bumpers, and shards of your shattered windshields.
Worse, as traffic piles up, and ambulances arrive to try to save those who survive the impact, no-one moves aside! When time is critical, when seconds can literally mean life or death, the ambulances are stuck trying to get past cars which won’t move out of the way.
As for the rest of us, stacked up along the highways, waiting for the wreckage to be cleared, it doesn’t help to have these drivers zipping by in the EMERGENCY lanes. Hello???? What part of EMERGENCY is so hard for you to understand?
You’re not special. We all have places we need to be. And – you are in the emergency lane. You endanger us all.
Blog Complaints
My family and friends outside Kuwait tell me I don’t publish enough Kuwait photos. These two are for you, and I will try to work on this. 😉 These are from a recent trip to the Al Kout mall in Fehaheel, just south of Kuwait.
Ladies leaving the Al Kout Mall
I think this mosque is one of the most beautiful I have seen:
Is this not one of the most beautiful Starbucks you have seen? It sits on overlooking a small marina. Greetings to all my Seattle friends.
Doha Additions
The rate of building in Doha is astounding. You have to wonder, sometimes, how the building inspectors can keep up with it all. I am guessing in Doha they lose one or two workers a week to unsafe construction practices, and I wonder at the quality of the construction . . . .
I particularly love this building, facing the Gulf. I call it the Doha twist. I think it has a spectacular look:
They have been working on the foundation for this building for years now, with nothing to show for it. The design of the building totally cracks me up.
From time to time, in both Doha and Kuwait, I have seen honest-to-God wild Parrakeets, Flamingos and Cranes. But when we say that the crane is the Qatar national bird, this is what we mean:
Quintessentially Doha
While all the news is about the burgeoning crop of skyscrapers in Doha, these two landmarks are located close to one another, in the old downtown Doha area, when the Sheraton Hotel was way out there – kinda like the Ritz Carleton is now, with the growth of West Bay creeping the city out closer and closer.
The first is quintessential Doha – the crossed swords on Grand Hamad, which turns into Airport Road:
The second photo is of the QCPI building – Qatar Center for the Presentation of Islam – which we all watched with total amazement as it was being built – what imagination! It gives Doha a unique skyline. Even with the imaginative skyscrapers, a skyscraper skyline is just a skyscraper skyline – it all blends. But this building – WHOA! It is so bold, so retro and so forward at the same time – I love it.
This is a view looking across the newly renovated Iranian souks – the old Souk area in Doha:
Artichoke Treat
“Where did you find ARTICHOKES?” I asked the man, and I could see him wondering if he needed to back away from this wild-eyed woman who was staring at the big bag in his basket.
Well, they weren’t really very nice artichokes, kind of scrawny, kind of past-the-sell-date look to them, but . . . artichokes. I adore artichokes.
When my husband was invited to the family house for the first time, to have dinner, my mother served artichokes. My husband, to this day, thinks it was a test to see if he knew how to eat them. I just laugh . . . I don’t THINK it was a test. We ate artichokes all the time.
Here is how you fix artichokes:
With a sharp knife you cut off about an inch of the top, which will include a lot of leaves, and the long stem at the bottom. With kitchen scissors, you cut off the sharp points on the remaining leaves.
You fill a pot with water, put the artichokes in, bottom down, and pour a little bit of olive oil right into the center of all their leaves. Add a little salt to the water, bring it to a full boil and then turn down the heat and let them simmer for 45 – 60 minutes. The artichoke is done when you can reach in and pull a leaf off fairly easily.
(Some people say to cook them less, but I hate a tough artichoke).
You can serve the artichoke either as an hors d’oeuvre, where everyone grabs a leaf and dips into something (be sure to provide a bowl for the leaves) or as a first course, where everyone has his/her own artichoke. You can put a variety of dips in the center of the table (melted butter is classic, oil and vinegar dressing is great, and mayonnaise is also classic.)
Eating the artichoke:
You pluck a leaf off the artichoke, holding the tip of the leaf in your hand, and dip it into something delicious, then scrape the “meat” off the base of the artichoke leaf with your teeth.
When the leaves start getting thin and insubstantial, you get a sharp little knife, take all the remaining leaves off, and LIGHTLY scrape off the “choke” at the center of the leaf. I emphasize LIGHTLY because the great bonus of the artichoke is the heart, which is underneath those chokes. Once the chokes and tiny leaves are gone, you can cut the heart into small pieces and dip each one . . . sheer bliss.
For me, an artichoke is an excuse to make up a batch of aioli. Start to finish, last night with the blender it took me ten minutes – and that was spending two or three minutes gathering the ingredients. Here you can find the instructions for making Mayonnaise, Aioli and Rouille using the best olive oil and knowing exactly what healthy ingredients are in it, no preservatives, and it keeps in the refrigerator. It also makes great gifts.
So yummy, so healthy and SO so easy!
Retro Metro
Getting ready to open at Villagio is one of my favorite places – Paul’s. When you can’t get to France, you can at least get to Paul’s. No, no little pichet of good wine with your salad, but truly great croissants, tartes and salads, and I am a great fan of their salmon fettucine.
And look what they are doing at Villagio! Look at the Art Nouveau wrought-iron trim on the shade! It looks like the Sacre Coeur metro stop! When it opens, it will be out in the open, a la Marina Mall, very French sidewalk cafe/restaurant. Unlike Al Kout Mall, this one has no outside area, tant pis!
When the weather outside is blistering hot, these malls are the only comfortable place to be. Thank God they are done with so much imagination.
Strolling Through Villagio
As I sat in the Kuwait airport, waiting, waiting, waiting . . . .I ran into a friend also heading to Doha, and we spent some time together. For one thing, she told me about Villagio, which didn’t exist when I lived in Doha.
If I lived in Doha, this is where I would spend my summer, walking along the avenues and gondola filled lagoons of Villagio. After a good stroll, I could sit down at one of the many restaurants and cafes and wipe out all the good work I had done strolling!
How cool is this?
The lagoon winds through the Mall, and you can take a boat ride when you are tired of shopping:
I love all the attention to detail, especially the streetlights, which are lit day and night, and provide a delightful romantic atmosphere:
The perfect place for a stroll – or a 10K hike!
Travel Karma Failure
I have really good travel karma – most of the time. Even when things go wrong, something good comes out of it. And before you read any further, you must know that during this trip, I had a really good time, surrounded by friends, good conversation, a lot of laughter and a very understanding husband – it had a happy ending. But this was a serious travel karma failure.
Oh, I had planned to carefully – fly out early, my friends pick me up, we loll around the pool catching up, grab a bite to eat, and eventually they drop me off at my hotel where I hook up with my husband.
Only this is what I saw on my way to the airport:
And this is what I saw as the plane was delayed – and delayed – and delayed again:
And this is what the airport looked like as more and more planes got delayed:
After – literally – hours, we board. We are rolling away from the airport when a guy a couple seats up from me says . . . something . . . to the stewardess and the guy across from him. As the plane continues rolling, I watch the guy across the aisle get up, go to the galley and make a phone call. The plane keeps rolling rolling rolling, but . . . rolls to a stop and all kinds of vehicals come out to the plane.
They all have a discussion:
But you know this part of the world, everyone has an opinion and wants to be heard. Back and forth up and down the aisle. The entire Qatar soccer team weighed in on this one:
Somehow, it all got resolved. I get to Doha – not early morning, but six at night. I’ve already told my friends to forget picking me up in peak traffic time, but I would see them the next day – we already had plans. But the topping on this perfect day is that my suitcase didn’t come. People were sent looking here and there, and another hour passed.
No suitcase. No explanation, but they assure me the suitcase is still in Kuwait. Get it here, I tell them, I need it. Send it to my hotel. And I rush to duty free to pick up some face cream and mascara and lipstick – you know, the essentials. When I get to the hotel I realize I have nothing, but the gift shop, thank God, has very large T-shirts I can sleep in, a hairbrush, a toothbrush and even underpants.
My greatest fear, as the suitcase continues to NOT show up, is that I will never see it again. It is a great suitcase, and inside it is my computer power cord. Normally a balanced, easy going person, I have bad dreams, angry dreams, frustrated dreams and I wake unrested, and wanting clean clothes.
My husband, not normally known for his patience, was very tenderly patient with me. I think he was more than a little bewildered to see me so bent out of shape. It was probably funny – if you weren’t me.
For three days, for every event, I wear the same clothes. Three days. The bag finally showed up this morning – still at the airport – just in time for my return trip to Kuwait.
Now that, my friends, is a SERIOUS travel karma failure.
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