Jazeera Customer Service
“Hello! Hello! Do you speak English?”
“Yes, my dear, I do! How can I help you?”
“I am trying to book a flight to Larnaca!”
“What date?”
“I’m flexible. I am trying to book for April 16 to April 23, but when I try to book, they tell me that no flights are available for that day! I have tried every day in April and May! How can there be no flights?”
“One moment, my dear.” (sound of typing and clicks and humm of distant voices)
“The first flight will be in July!”
“Oh no! It shows that Larnaca is a destination NOW!”
“No, my dear, the first flight will be in July. July 4th!”
“No, no, I don’t want July, thank you. How about flights to Salalah? I get the same message!”
“Yes! Yes, my dear, we have flights to Salalah! I can book it for you now! What dates?”
“Do I have to connect through Bahrain?”
“No, no, flights direct from Kuwait.” (sounds of typing, clicking, voices humming . . .)
“How about those same dates – April 16 – April 23?”
“The first flight will be in June!”
(Me, laughing) “It’s a little HOT in Salalah in June! I was hoping for something in April!”
“No, no, my dear, the first flight will be in June!”
“Thank you!” (I hang up laughing. I may not like the news he gives me, but his undisturbable good humor gives me a huge grin.)
Another Martyr For Olde Ireland
Thanks be to God, the brutal, ceaseless battles in Ireland have ended and peace prevails. So many innocent were lost – and for what? The recent bombing is thought to be a hiccup left over from those desperate, sad days. We can only hope that is true, and that peace can also break out in places like Gaza, like Dharfur, where entire peoples are oppressed and dealt with brutally by those in power.
For blogger Mathai; one of the songs the Irish sing in the pubs on St. Patrick’s day – and others. Whenever the beer is flowing, you’ll hear Kevin Barry. They know all the words.
This is the version I used to hear; the one above has slightly different words.
In Mountjoy jail one Monday morning
High upon the gallows tree,
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.
But a lad of eighteen summers,
Still there’s no one can deny,
As he walked to death that morning,
He proudly held his head on high.
2. Just before he faced the hangman,
In his dreary prison cell,
The Black and Tans tortured Barry,
Just because he wouldn’t tell.
The names of his brave comrades,
And other things they wished to know.
“Turn informer and we’ll free you”
Kevin Barry answered, “no”.
3. “Shoot me like a soldier.
Do not hang me like a dog,
For I fought to free old Ireland
On that still September morn.
“All around the little bakery
Where we fought them hand to hand,
Shoot me like a brave soldier,
For I fought for Ireland.”
4. “Kevin Barry, do not leave us,
On the scaffold you must die!”
Cried his broken-hearted mother
As she bade her son good-bye.
Kevin turned to her in silence
Saying, “Mother, do not weep,
For it’s all for dear old Ireland
And it’s all for freedom’s sake.”
5. Calmly standing to attention
While he bade his last farewell
To his broken hearted mother
Whose grief no one can tell.
For the cause he proudly cherished
This sad parting had to be
Then to death walked softly smiling
That old Ireland might be free.
6. Another martyr for old Ireland;
Another murder for the crown,
Whose brutal laws to crush the Irish,
Could not keep their spirit down.
Lads like Barry are no cowards.
From the foe they will not fly.
Lads like Barry will free Ireland,
For her sake they’ll live and die.
St. Patrick’s Day Coming March 17
St. Patrick’s Day is coming – tomorrow – March 17th. St. Patrick’s Day is not, as it would sound, a particularly religious holiday. While it is a huge celebration, in the United States it is more about being Irish than it is about St. Patrick. Most of the Irish, when they came to America, had about as much status as the Bangladeshis in Kuwait – they were at the bottom of the social heap. It was a long long struggle to achieve respectability; even longer to be free of the prejudices against them.
The Irish celebrated the election of John F. Kennedy the same way the African Americans celebrated the election of Barak Obama – it was the ultimate sign of being part of a united America, full citizenship – “one of us” could be President.
Here are previous posts I have written telling more about St. Patrick, and St. Patrick’s Day celebrations:
St. Patrick and the Wearing of the Green
We visited Ireland several years ago, a visit AdventureMan recounts with relish. I made all the arrangements, bed and breakfasts, travel plans, etc. and AdventureMan was uncommonly unenthusiastic. Once we got there, I understood why. Being THE MAN, when we are in the car together, most of the time, he drives. Arriving in Ireland, you have to drive on the “other” side of the road (I did not say the “wrong” side!) Many roads in Ireland are narrow. Cool calm AdventureMan had met his match. He HATED driving in Ireland.
The part of the trip I loved the most was going to Cashel, one of the St. Patrick sights in Ireland:
It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. The weather was glorious, warm and sunny without being too hot.
From Cashel, Ireland, website:
Cashel has a very ancient history, albeit only documented since the 4th Century. The Rock of Cashel, with its well preserved ecclesiastical remains, is one of Ireland’s most spectacular landmarks, rising above the surrounding plain and dominating the land route southward.The large Cathedral, ancient round tower and the very early Romanesque Cormac’s Chapel , perched on a dramatic outcrop of rock, were silent witnesses to many of the stirring events of Irish History; St.Patrick converted the local King Aenghus, here in the 5th century; Brian Boru was crowned King of Ireland on this spot in the early 11th Century. The Vicar’s Choral has been restored and the site, one of the most visited in Ireland, now provides an interpretative centre, (multi lingual) an interesting museum, guided tours and superb views over the extensive and beautiful plains of Tipperary.
We were visiting in Mid-July. It rained a lot, but the day we drove to Cashel was gorgeous. Even on the rainy days, there were periods of blue sky and sunshine, and the air was crystal clear and sweet. I guess the rain is the reason Ireland is so green, so piercingly beautifully green. I would go again in a heartbeat, but I think this time we would hire a driver!
In Xanadu: A Quest by William Dalrymple
This book was on my (huge) “Read Me” stack, and I picked it up for a change of pace. As I started reading, I wondered “how did this get there?” My first instinct was it was a recommendation from Little Diamond. As I was reading, however, I came across a segment that was what our priest had read in church around the Feast of the Epiphany about the birthplace of the wise men who came seeking the Christ Child after his birth. I wrote down the title and ordered it from amazon.com (which has some copies used from 72 cents).
William Dalrymple wrote this book when he was a mere 22 years old. He and a travelling companion took off to trace Marco Polo’s journey from Jerusalem to Xanadu, where he was taking oil from the sanctuary lamp to Kubla Khan.
In a world where we have all been taught to be so careful, they take incredible risks. They travel on the cheap – staying in fleabag hotels, sometimes sleeping “rough”, i.e. out in the open. They travel any way they can – an occasional train, but more often a truck, a bus, whatever is going their way. One very long segment they travelled on top of a pile of coal.
They travel from Jerusalem up through Syria and into Turkey, then turn east and cross Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan to China. They have some amazing adventures, see some astounding scenery and because of their mode of travel, have a lot of time to talk with their travelling companions or people in the cities where they are staying.
I am blown away that an unmarried couple would cross Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. I guess they told people they were married to share a room (they were on a budget) and they were only friends, not a couple, but what a risk. I am astonished that they were never asked to produce a marriage license or any proof of marriage when they stayed in hotels. I am astonished at the girls (one left in Lahore and another joined him, but these are girls who are friends, not anything more) would travel on the backs of trucks full of men, and never blink an eye.
The book is occasionally hilarious. Most of the hilarity results from foods they have to eat – sometimes it is the only food available – or from misunderstandings because of lack of a common language, or due to their frequent bouts of diarrhea, what I really liked about the author was that he was rarely pompous, and when he is funny, it is usually about some conversation he has had, or some mistake he has made.
One of my favorite parts of the book happens in Iran:
As we sat waiting for the bus to Tabriz, the next town on Marco Polo’s itinerary, we watched the mullahs speeding past in their sporty Renault 5s. Iran was proving far more complex than we had expected. A religious revolution in the twentieth century was a unique occurence, resulting in the first theocracy since the fall of the Dalai Lama in Tibet. Yet this revolution took place not in a poor banana republic, but in the richest and most sophisticated country in Asia. A group of clerics was trying to graft a mediaeval system of government and a pre-medieval way of thinking upon a country with a prosperous modern economy and a large and highly educated middle class. The posters in the bus station seemed to embody these contradictions. A frieze over the back wall of the shelter spoke out, in the name of Allah, against littering. On another wall two monumental pictures of the Ayatollah were capped with the inscriptions in both Persian and English:
BEING HYGENIC IS DIRECTLY RELATED ON THE MAN’S PERSONALITY
and:
ALLAH COMMANDS THE RE-USE OF RENEWABLE RESOURCES.
We had expected anything of the Ayatollah. But hardly that he would turn out to be an enthusiastic ecologist.
The challenge of this journey is to follow as closely as possible the path Marco Polo took, but two segments of the journey go through off-limits areas. They find a way into one, to discover later it is an atomic testing area, and the second, at the very end, around Xanadu, they find receptive Chinese officers who take them to have a brief glimpse of the ruins of Xanadu while booting them out of the area. As they stand in Xanadu, they repeat a poem that every American child grows up with in English Literature:
In Zanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of gertile ground
With walls and twoers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills.
Where blossom’d many an incense-bearing tree:
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
(Coleridge)
I liked this book. Dalrymple is a history major, and often quotes from historical – even obscure – texts to illuminate what he observes. I think I may look at a couple more he has written since.
The Doha Museum of Islamic Arts – first visit
It’s Friday afternoon, and I can hardly believe it. We are here. Now THIS is my idea of a romantic getaway – please! Keep your chocolates (although I do love chocolate!) and your roses, keep your long lingering dinners and fabulous wine, but take me someplace where I have really wanted to go, and I will be your slave forever. You da man, AdventureMan. You know how to win my heart. 🙂
It is a glorious day and the museum has just opened. There is a huge parking lot and little carts ferrying the older people and women with small children to the entrance, but it is a nice walk, not a hard walk. Families are streaming in, and (gasp!) admission is FREE! You have to go get a ticket; I guess maybe that is how they keep track of admission statistics, but this beautiful museum, floating out over the gulf, all white and clean and gorgeous, filled with priceless objects of art, it’s free? Amazing.
We decide to start with the Beyond Borders exhibit, a special collection of art that integrates Jewish, Christian and Islamic traditions in an art collection. There are so many pieces that make me gasp in awe. I see one, and I can’t resist, the camera is out of my bag, I see others snapping photos with cell phones, but I know the rules . . . hmmm. But there is nothing posted here saying “no photos!” I ask the guard if I am allowed to take photos and he tells me “You are welcome, madame, all through the museum, you may take photos.”
I am in total shock. All through the museum? I can take photos?
Here is the piece that moved me so much that I gathered up the courage to ask. It is a Madonna, painted in Aleppo, Syria, I believe, and it has an Quranic sura written in her halo:
The museum is my oyster, and my battery is dead. I didn’t bring another. Some things happen for the best, and I tuck my camera back in my purse and AdventureMan and I try to absorb what the Doha Museum of Islamic Art has to offer.
It is an impossible task. There is SO much. Not everything is well documented, and then there are sections which are amazing. There is so much to learn, and so much beauty in this museum.
If I had to choose my favorite thing of all, it would be some tiles from Kashan. In an earlier post, commenter Daggero mentioned that the word for tile used in Kuwait is “kashi” and now I know that it comes from these tiles, made in Kashan around the 1300’s (Gregorian calendar) which were famed for their intricacy, their interlocking designs, and their high quality. There are also Iznik tiles in the museum, which are thought to be greatly influenced by these tiles from Kashan.
I had no idea, but the tiles just blow me away. I would love to create some tiled rooms back in my Seattle house, with reproductions of some of these amazing star shaped tiles. For me, that was the highlight of this trip. I know there will have to be many more – this museum is filled with treasures. Free – for all the people. And yes – the gift shop is awesome!
Doha Esphahan is for Lovers!
Happy Valentine’s Day, Here There and Everywhere readers!
Today, we are still in Doha, Qatar, and I have saved a very special restaurant to share with the, the Esphahan, in the heart of the restored Souk Waqif. It was so special that a friend took me there because she knew it would delight me, and it delighted me so much I had to take AdventureMan, so I got to eat here twice in the same trip. 🙂
Doha legend has it that the Amir of Qatar walked into this restaurant (somewhere? in Esphahan?) and said “I want this restaurant in Qatar!” It’s a wonderful thing to be the Amir of a country with all the natural gas resources in the world, and, as if by magic, this fairy-tale restaurant appeared in Doha. How cool is that? Like he could have had the dining room reproduced in his own palace, he could, he can do just about anything. But he choose to enhance this wonderful restored market, the Souk Waqif, and make this restaurant one of the cornerstones, one of the delights of the market. You gotta love noblesse like that. He shares.
From entry to exit, it is a treat. The food is fabulous, the service friendly, skilled and attentive, they bake their own bread and the decor is WAAAAYYYYYYY over the top. Oh, what fun.
It starts at the entry, which is on the main walking street in the restaurant area of the restored Souk Waqif:
It might be too gaudy for you, but it thrills the little-girl-who-lives-in-my-heart, all those mirrors, all that interconnected design, the tableaux – maybe over the top, but I love it.
They also have great music, none of this Hotel California stuff.
See! It really is a Valentine's Day restaurant!
The Amir's private dining room can be entirely closed off for private dinners.
The truth is, the Esphahan is also for families, including very large families. There are large divided sections where families or groups can sit on the floor, traditional style, or there are dining rooms upstairs which can comfortably serve couples, small families, large families and extended families for your special occasion.
The food was fabulous. Most of the dishes are dishes you can order at almost any Iranian restaurant, only bumped up a notch. They were delicious. Service was so attentive that I could never take any photos of the food without being really, really obvious, and we were also surrounded by a lot of traditional families, and I am careful about pulling out my camera in those situations. (Sorry Purg, I know you like the food photos.)
Don’t take my word for it. Go. 🙂 See – and taste – for yourself.
I wonder (random musing here) if Americans had more exposure to Iranian food, if our countries would be better friends? I want to go to Iran so badly. AdventureMan, too. We wonder if we will ever get the opportunity. We are SO near – and yet so far . . .
Romantic Getaway in Doha
AdventureMan whisked me away to Doha for a weekend, to visit friends and the new Islamic Museum. There is a new boutique hotel in the restored market area, the Hotel Souk Waqif – and this area is THE place to be at night. The hotel is only 17 exquisite rooms, beautifully furnished, great customer service, and has promotional rates going right now at the best time of the year to visit. It is surrounded by great restaurants, and has great views in three directions. The rooms are lush and richly furnished.
Update: The website for the Souk Waqif Hotel is up and running here: Hotel Souq Waqif
View from hotel 1
View 3 from hotel
This sign always cracks me up – in a parking lot near Electricity Street (Sharaa Kharaba)
Sunrise and Weep
This morning’s sunrise was unspectacular in that it is uniformly spectacular. Most sunrises here are spectacular; spectacular gets to be the standard (for sunrises) in Kuwait.
The translucent cloudy effect is not the fault of the sunrise, it is the result of the rain spots on my window.
Now, for my friends in Germany, in England, in Seattle and across the Winter Zone, here is what our week in Kuwait will look like – again, uniformly spectacular. The weather I love, light sweater weather, weather that makes you want to get outside and walk or run or drive!
If you have ever wanted to visit Kuwait, February is the month. 🙂
Frequent Traveller
“We’ll be checking in late,” explains AdventureMan, “and we want to be sure you will hold the room for us.”
Pause.
Pause.
Pause. (you can hear frantic clicking in the background)
“Sir, what is your name again?”
“AdventureMan! (He actually gives his real name) A – D – V – E – N – T – U – R – E – M – A – N!” He spells it out.
Pause
Pause
More Pause
“Uh, sir, we can’t find your reservation! When did you make it?”
“The office made it.”
Pause
Pause
Pause
This is not looking good.
“Sir, we do not have a reservation for you. I am so sorry sir!”
“But I am sure the office made a reservation! I have the confirmation number! And, I am one of (your hotel name) SPECIAL CLUB MEMBERS!”
“Uh, yes sir, but this is (a totally different hotel)”
LLLOOOLLL, Adventureman.
“I am SO sorry.” He hangs up. He calls the right hotel, and he is assured they have our room ready for us.
AdventureMan looks at me and we both start giggling.
“I would have hung up,” he begins, but we are both convulsing with laughter.”I would have hung up, but I gave them my NAME!” and we are both dying laughing. He does stay at this other hotel from time to time.
“Next time I call, I will have to identify myself as STUPID-MAN!” he barks, and we are weak and helpless, we are laughing so hard.
“Mister, Take Picture!”
My friend, Q8Dutchie asked if we were truly allowed to take photos in the souks, and I answered “Carefully.” I added that if you are photographing a person, to ask, and especially if it is a woman. There is usually no problem photographing vegetables, fruits, hardware. clothing, food, etc. If I have any doubt, I ask, and if they say “no,” I don’t photograph.
Yousef, from Some Contrast answered slightly differently, saying most of the people working in the souks are not Kuwaiti, and most don’t mind a photo.
Actually, we often have the experience that when people in the souks see my camera, they say “Mister! Mister! Take photo!” (yes, they call me mister sometimes, mostly madame, but sometimes they get confused.)
Here are some recent examples:
Have fun, Q8Dutchie!
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