Doha Friday Sandstorm
As we were eating, there was a sudden change in the weather. On our way back to the car, we could see a sandstorm blowing in. It didn’t look too bad, and we wanted to drive around before the traffic got too bad later in the day, so we did.
Signs of the Times in Doha, Qatar
There are a whole series of these signs, carefully placed at eye-level at most stoplights. Here are two; it takes me a while to get in the right position at the right time and to have my camera ready, but I am learning to always have my camera ready:
May God richly bless my husband for his patience; I am always calling out “Can you pull over so I can get a picture of that sign?” In Arabic, this one says “Bunshury al Rodoa”
I speak some Arabic, not a lot, like I can’t discuss politics with you, or anything complex, but I know shapes and colors and directions, and it all comes in handy. I took this sign because my favorite color is purple, and it is a very hard name to remember, when you are looking for something specific that is purple. 🙂
And see if you can guess why this is my very favorite photo of all 😉
Friday Lunch with AdventureMan at Assaba
After all these years, we know each other so well.
“Where are we going to eat today?” he asks as we leave church.
“It’s your turn to choose” I tell him.
“No, no, it’s your turn,” he insists, “I chose Ruby Woo’s last Thursday night.”
“No. You didn’t. I did,” I tell him, and remind him that I also chose another place later in the week, but it was a place that he really likes.
What he wants me to do is to throw out my idea and then he shoots it down. Sometimes I throw out three ideas, and he shoots them all down!
“What are you in the mood for, what kind of food?” I ask him. Usually he doesn’t like a lot of meat, so I am surprised, really surprised, when he says Lebanese. When we lived in Kuwait, he almost never chose Lebanese except for Tanureen, where they had such good fish.
“Yeh, but now there is no good Lebanese restaurant near where I work,” he replies, “and I am missing Lebanese food.”
I know just the place. My two pool buddies took me to lunch there back in January when I visited. I THINK I know how to get there, and, as it turns out, I do! (It’s always a disaster trying to find a place when your husband is really, really hungry.) It’s called Assaba, and it is like entering a different world. They’ve taken a very humdrum building, and re-facaded and decorated the ground level and one flight up to resemble a Lebanese Village. It is a lot of fun.
We ordered mostly mezze (appetizers) and an order of shish taouk to share. (Shish taouk is boneless chicken pieces that have been marinated in lemon juice and a little garlic and yoghurt, for those who don’t know about it. It is delicious, and often served with a mighty garlic – mayonnaise. )
We agreed that the very very best dish of all was the Mohammara, a dish made of finely chopped walnuts, red peppers and a few other things. (Mishary, on Some Contrast, printed a great recipe.)
We had hummous with something that tasted a little like liver, and baba ghanoush, and meatless chickpea moussaka:
And this is how the shish taouk looks when it arrives, with hot bread to keep it warm:
It was a magnificent meal. We ate too much. It was just so pleasant, sitting there, great food, beautiful surroundings, us all relaxed after church and mellow. AdventureMan came back from washing his hands all excited – “You’ve got to go use the Ladies Room! See if they have a beaten copper sink! I want one of those!”
I did, and this is what it looks like:
I think we might have to take another trip to Damascus, and bring it back with us. Do you know what a designer in the US would charge us for a sink like that?? We can go, find a sink, spend time in a city we love and come back for what the cost of the sink would be in the US.
I want the door:
I think I had better have it made here!
Here is the shower he wants, from Robin’s House at Nkwali Camp, in Zambia:
Even Friday lunch with AdventureMan is an adventure. 🙂
Thick
Pete, also known as The Qatteri Cat, loves living back in Qatar except for one tiny little detail. Suddenly Mom, as he thinks of me, has become particularly thick.
He, on the other hand, is making things very clear.
“Miao! Mioaw! Miaow!” he hollars, winding his way through my legs, guiding me to the nearest door the the heaven he can see – OUTSIDE!
I ignore him. He is not going outside. There are some very mean street cats out there, and also some very mean people who put out poisoned fish to kill the mean street cats. Either or both would be very bad to a cream puff who has lived indoors all his life.
“Not all my life!” he assures me, remembering his origins as a street cat – well, a street kitten, abandoned on the Corniche in Doha. And, from time to time, he would break free and spend a happy half hour roaming, and then another less happy couple hours trying to figure out 1) how to get down the very tall tree or 2)how to get out of the yard he jumped into that has a high, unscalable wall or 3) where home is. We spare him those problems and keep him inside. There is lots to keep his attention, but none of it matters, he yearns to be OUTSIDE!
Poor Pete!
The Paper Moon by Andrea Camilleri
Ahhh! Another book about corruption, but this one is no where near so painful for me to read as The Appeal by John Grisham, because this one is set in Sicily, where we expect a certain level of corruption, and Italy, where the whole system operates by rules we can barely begin to comprehend, but it is ITALY, and fascinating, and funny, and another great page turner for these hot hot hot summer days.
Andrea Camilleri has a whole series of books about Inspector Montalbano, which I love almost as I love the Donna Leon series about the Venetian, Guido Brunetti. Brunetti has the edge because he is married and has a family, and it IS Venice – no competition there, Venice will always win, hands down. But Inspector Montalbano’s single status allows for a whole different flavor permeating his investigations, and he, like Guido Brunetti, shares the Italian reverence for really great food.
I didn’t want to fix dinner. I didn’t want to get out of bed. All I wanted to do was to read the whole book, and, when I finished, I wanted another one!
Inspector Montalbano is asked by a woman to find her missing brother, and he finds him almost immediately, dead, under bizarre circumstances. The brother has a very large amount of money unaccounted for, and unaccounted in terms of earnings, as well. He is a pharmaceutical representative, good at what he does – but he still has way too much money, and Inspector Montalbano finds he is rather fond of the prime suspect.
In the meantime, his office has also been tasked to find the reason several high level politicians have suddenly died, purportedly of a variety of causes, but in reality, all have died of drug overdoses. The problem is, that finding the culprit means exposing the reality of high level drug usage, and the inspector realizes the case has been dumped on his office because no one wants to take responsibility for what happens when the culprit is caught. It’s all very Italian, very Sicilian.
Between investigations, Inspector Montalbano eats some amazing meals. 🙂 He takes his glass of wine and walks in the sand out to the sea. We get to know the characters working out of his office better, and to appreciate their quirkiness. This is a great series, a lot of fun. I think I need to go to Sicily for a visit. I definitely need some Italian food and a glass of vino!
Photo courtesy of http://visibleearth.nasa.gov/)
From time to time a word or phrase would appear that required going to the back of the book where the word is not only translated, but the concept explained, something crucial when reading a novel from another culture. In this series, it is particularly valuable, as the background for the crimes and their investigations with political implications, and if you don’t understand the politics, you can miss the point of the novel.
I found this book at Amazon.com. for a mere $10.19 plus shipping.
The Appeal by John Grisham
One of the things I like about John Grisham is that he really likes the underdog. In his books, the person often the least likely to prevail does so, usually because he has a smart attorney, one who is paying attention and taking good care of the client. Warning – this book review contains a spoiler, so don’t go any further if you don’t want to know too much about the plot and resolution.
The Appeal is the exception. No one wins, not even the apparent winner, who sails off in the end with his empty, unsatisfying life. He schemes, he exploits, he lies, he buys elections, and he makes a fortune – and he isn’t satisfied. He is married to a woman who sounds more like a greyhound, all skin and bones and self-absorption.
The subject matter is a case where a chemical company has dumped toxic wastes into the ground in Mississippi, it has penetrated into the groundwater, and polluted the entire water system of a small fictional town. Two lawyers, married to one another, sacrifice everything and face bankruptcy to win a case for their client who has lost both husband and son to cancer caused by the toxic chemicals dumped. They win.
There is an appeal.
What this book is about isn’t just about groundwater contamination, or even about buying elections in Mississippi – it is an indictment of every state that elects judges. The core of the novel is about how big money, big corporations, pick candidates and fund them, legally and illegally, and insure that they win. They pack the courts with judges who are opposed to large settlements.
God bless John Grisham. With all his great legal thrillers, he has made a bundle and can take risks like writing a book like The Appeal, which should be an eye opener, and should be read by every caring citizen.
Judges should not be elected. When the judiciary are elected, they have to think about their next election, with every legal decision. It taints objectivity. It corrupts objectivity. It eliminates objectivity. Without an objective judiciary – why bother? They will always rule on the side whose interests are the most powerful and profitable.
Here are a couple quotes that tell you where the novel is going. My Kuwaiti friends are going to love this – I have taken so many shots at Kuwait corruption – so here it is, my friends, exposure of the institutionalized corruption in my country:
Barry laughed and crossed his legs. “We do campaigns. Have a look.” He picked up a remote and pushed the button, and a large white screen dropped from the ceiling and covered most of the wall, then the entire nation appeared. Most of the states were in green, the rest were in a soft yellow. “Thirty-one states are in the green. The yellow ones have the good sense to appoint their courts. We make our living in the green ones.”
“Judicial elections.”
“Yes. That’s all we do, and we do it very quietly. When our clients need help, we target a supreme court justice who is not particularly friendly, and we take him, or her, out of the picture.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
“Who are your clients?”
“I can’t give you the names, but they’re all on your side of the street. Big companies in energy, insurance, pharmaceuticals, chemicals, timber, all types of manufacturers, plus doctors, hospitals, nursing homes, banks. We raise tons of money and hire the people on the ground to run aggressive campaigns.”
* * * * * * * *
The Senator did not know who owned the jet, not had he ever met Mr. Trudeau, which in most cultures would seem odd since Rudd had taken so much money from the man. But in Washington, money arrives through a myriad of strange and nebulous conduits. Often those taking it have only a vague idea of where it’s coming from; often they have no clue. In most democracies, the transference of so much cash would be considered outright corruption, but in Washington the corruption has been legalized. Senator Rudd didn’t know and didn’t care that he was owned by other people. He had over $11 million in the bank, money he could eventually keep if not forced to waste it on some frivolous campaign. In return for such an investment, Rudd had a perfect voting record on all matters dealing with pharmaceuticals, chemicals, oil, energy, insurance, banks and on and on.
I like almost every book I read by John Grisham. He is a man with a conscience, and he is trying to raise our awareness of corruptive factors before our system goes entirely under. I couldn’t put this book down, and I can hardly wait to read the next one.
Monte Cristo Sandwich
I have a young Kuwaiti friend who told me she used to LOVE Monte Cristo sandwiches until she learned they had ham in them, and then she couldn’t eat them anymore. I wonder if they would taste OK made with turkey ham? This is today’s recipe from allrecipes.com; my sweet daughter-in-law got me started and now they send me recipes with pictures every day!
Monte Cristo Sandwich
SUBMITTED BY: CJO PHOTO BY: gapch1026
from allrecipes.com
INGREDIENTS
2 slices bread
1 teaspoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon prepared mustard
2 slices cooked ham (turkey ham 🙂 )
2 slices cooked turkey meat
1 slice Swiss cheese
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
DIRECTIONS
Spread bread with mayonnaise and mustard. Alternate ham, Swiss and turkey slices on bread.
Beat egg and milk in a small bowl. Coat the sandwich with the egg and milk mixture. Heat a greased skillet over medium heat, brown the sandwich on both sides. Serve hot.
Having a Ball to Celebrate the Army’s 234th Birthday
(Photo from PictureBook Directory of Children’s Illustrations)
As a child, I grew up with stories of dressing up in beautiful gowns and going to the ball – didn’t you see Cinderella when you were a child? My mother would dress in wonderful gowns to go out with my father to balls; I still remember her kissing me goodnight, dressed is midnight dark blue velvet with rhinestones scattered on the gown; it reminded me of a starry night in Alaska. She wore White Shoulders perfume.
We always thought they had so much fun when they went out – they would bring us small swords and umbrellas. We would ask “what did you do with these?” imagining sword fights or something equally interesting, but they would say they were just decorations for fancy drinks. We knew they were lying; we knew it must be some adult thing that they couldn’t tell us about.
This weekend AdventureMan and I went to the Army Birthday Ball, and realized it may be the last ball we go to. We were prepared, or mostly. Unlike Cinderella, I didn’t have my glamorous shoes with me. I remember taking them out of the closet, but somehow they got packed in my household goods. I did have a pair of sandals with me that matched my gown closely enough, but they were far from glam.
AdventureMan was dressing in his evening wear and discovered he had no black socks! Horrors! We found a pair of very dark green socks that he usually wears traveling in Africa, and his pants were long enough to cover them, both standing and sitting, as long as he didn’t cross his legs, LLOOLLL!
So, off we went to the ball, not in a glorious carriage but in air conditioned comfort, thank God. The air conditioning matters when you are all dressed up, made up, and want to be cool.
Cool we were. As we sat shivering in the giant decorated warehouse where the ball was held, I laughed at AdventureMan and said “I have NEVER been cold at a ball before!” Even at the winter balls we used to attend in Germany, the heat would be on, and with 300 – 400 people attending, all crowded in, things heated up in a hurry. The summer balls in Germany were often sweltering – there was never any air conditioning, and a big heat wave always seemed to hit around the time of the balls. There is nothing so unglamorous as sweating in a ball gown!
Here, in Doha, where the temperatures at night sometimes don’t even drop below 90°F, the air conditioning was working great.
The food was also surprisingly good. Most of the time at grand occasions the food can be rubbery, or blandly disappointing. The food was pretty good.
Best of all, this was a ball put on by soldiers, for soldiers. It was really fun seeing all the soldiers and civilians in their finery, all glammed up and having a great time. It was even more fun having some of the soldiers out of the war zones, on R&R, in their battle-dress-uniforms – after all, the ball was to celebrate the Army, the Army’s 234th birthday, and those who serve.
The program was excellent, and moving. Great honor was given to those who serve, who sacrifice, those who have been wounded, the families that support them, and to those who give their lives in service to our country. There were many solemn moments. It gave the occasion gravity. It was impossible not to be moved. They did a great job.
When I was younger, before marrying AdventureMan, my sister and I were in the right place at the right time. All the young officers needed respectable dates for the balls, and we attended a lot of balls. I guess we “cleaned up good.” 😉 Many of the balls were held in the Heidelberg Castle, or other castles, it was always a very fun time, lots of dancing.
After getting married, I realized that what I thought was just a great romantic evening out was really all about politicking. The wives were left stranded at their tables while the husbands were out renewing acquaintances, getting introductions to new potential bosses and angling for their next assignment. So much for an evening of dancing and romance! As the music blared, you couldn’t even have a good conversation, just sit at the table or walk around with a friend, wondering when your husband was coming back!
So, for me, this ball was the best. AdventureMan made his rounds during dinner, while I chatted with other wives whose husbands were also out making the rounds, but before the loud music had started. The program didn’t end until late, and after making our rounds of farewells, we made our escape, hoping we would not turn into pumpkins!
Here is a wonderful video, made by a 15 year old girl, to honor our Armed Forces:
Dar Al Thaqafa in Doha, Qatar
I have very special feelings about Dar Al Thaqafa. When I was new in Qatar, as I started to read a very special book, it fell out of the binding. Maybe the heat has melted the glue, I don’t know, but it was not my book! It was loaned to me by the Ambassador to Qatar from Japan, and holy smokes, I had ruined it!
I went ahead and read the book, and then I had to figure out how to get it re-bound. I asked around, no one had any idea. Finally, I asked at one of the Dar al Thaqafa stores (there are several in Doha) and they told me about the Dar al Thaqafa printing plant, which was not far from where I lived.
I took the book there. They said they could rebind it. It would take about a week. I didn’t even ask the cost; it didn’t matter, I had to return the book in good condition.
When I went to pick up the book, they wouldn’t let me pay them. The man who gave it to me – with beautiful bindings and end-papers – had a big prayer bump on his head. He told me he wanted me to remember that not all religious Muslims were terrorists. I almost cried. Maybe I did, a little, when I got back to the car, it is just such a perfect example of God’s grace, and how we are supposed to love one another and be kind to one another.
So this weekend, as I drove around familiarizing myself with my old secret back ways to get places, I came across the first Dar Al Thaqafa book store I ever visited, with Little Diamond, down near the Dira’a fabric souks. You would hardly know it was there, if you didn’t know it was there. We only found it because the toy vendor outside had some dancing Saddam Husseins and Osama bin Ladens – I have never seen them anywhere else. Then we spotted the bookstore – and oh, what heaven, all kinds of books, a bookstore any book lover would love:
Qatar is a conservative country. You might be wondering how I can take pictures so freely – I always ask.
So I asked if I might take photos of the bookstore.
“Why” asked the man at the desk.
“I love this bookstore,” I responded, “and I take photos of places that might not exist in the next five or ten years. I try to record what was special and unique in a country.”
He beamed with delight!
“This is the oldest bookstore in Qatar!” he exclaimed! “This is the original of all the Dar al Thaqafa bookstores!” He gladly gave me permission to photograph.
They carry textbooks, reference books, religious books, children’s books, and all kinds of school supplies, from the most elementary grades through the most specialized university courses.
You know I read and write Arabic on a very very basic level. I can proudly say my niece, Little Diamond reads and writes on a fluent level, and as we leave book stores, we are often staggering under the load of the books she buys to take home and read. This store, and the Jarir bookstores, are a couple of our favorite stops.
I had a family cookbook printed with all our best of the best recipes – the Dar al Thaqafa on Merqab did the printing and cover and binding for me. They did a great job.
As much as I like going to a Barnes and Noble, you walk into just about any Barnes and Noble and it is like walking into the same one, whether you are in Pensacola, Seattle, Houston, Charleston – they all pretty much follow the same pattern. It is calculated and more than a little sterile. Not so the Dar al Thaqafa, where books are piled here and there, pens are all in one place, children’s books in piles – you kind of have to search for what you want, but they usually have it, or can find it for you, or tell you where to go for it.
Dulce in Villagio Mall, Doha, Qatar
It’s almost trite, it’s so common. You go to church, you hit Villagio. I needed to run some errands at the Carrefour, so we figured lunch at Villagio – there is so much to choose from. We were debating over two old favorites when we came to Dulce, and decided immediately to try something new.
We were so glad we did. Everything was delicious!
The Sicilian Appetizer – mixed olives, artichoke hearts, pickles – was WAAAAYY too much for just two people (we forgot and scooped onto our plates before I remembered to take a photo):
My Chicken Rosemary Wrap was so big I took half of it home with me:
AdventureMan’s mushroom pizza was SO tasty, but even so, we ended up taking half home, there was so much pizza:
Our one regret – as we were eating, we were sitting near the dessert displays, and they kept bringing out more and more, each more delicious looking than the previous. By the time we left, we were gawking, but unable to do anything about it! On the other hand, we know where we will go for dessert and coffee the next time the urge hits us. 🙂
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Early Voting in Florida
