American lady living in Kuwait commenting on daily occurrances through her warped perspective. Her travels take us beyond the boundaries of normalcy. E-mail amerab@gmail.com. Twitter: @DesertGirlkwt
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Thursday, December 15, 2022
Failaka 2022
This is a post that was on Facebook about Farah Yusuf Khan’s experience recently at Facebook. It is such a good account that I thought I would pass it along, as many people are looking for things to do and Failaka is always a popular option.
This is a post that was on Facebook about Farah Yusuf Khan’s experience recently at Failaka. It is such a good first-hand account that I thought I would pass it along; as man people are looking for things to do and Failaka is always a great option.
Since I inquired last time about Failaka Island and found that there isn't much info about it available on fb. I decided to make a small guide for you all to refer before visiting.
We visited last Friday and booked our tickets 3 days in advance and better to book it even earlier. It all depends on the availability. It was 30 kd per person above 2 years of age with buffet and 25 kd without buffet. We went by Ikarus marine. We boarded from Marina mall. They are quite punctual so be there at least half hr prior given time.
It takes 30 to 40 mins to reach the island. They drop u off at the heritage village and to your right is Wanasa Beach and to your left is the tour of the Iraqi tanks and other places. At the heritage village u will find the mini supermarket from where u can buy stuff, as the restaurant at heritage village will open only at 2 pm for buffet and then close after that's done. I would suggest u carry some rolls or sandwiches right under your clothes in your bag pack as everyone gets to carry a bag pack and no one checks your baggage (they say no drinks and food). The buffet was amazing so better to book your seats with lunch buffet.
In the heritage village u have the museum, the reception, beautiful site of room areas and pathways to see. The industrial lake, the mini zoo. You can take a map from the reception to help you navigate. Also your baggage can be kept behind the reception with safety unless you don't have any valuables in it. We carried extra winter jackets and shawls as the temperature there is way colder than Kuwait city.
When you enter the heritage village you can book your bus trip to the Iraqi tank and other places which is like a 45 mins to and hr trip by bus and they show you places around costing 3 kd per person. We had taken that trip too and liked it. The last bus goes at 3 pm. They also have mini cars for 20 kd an hr and other cars for 30 kd an hr without guides. Later on we left for Wanasa Beach which is a 2 mins walk from the heritage village and u have like a little dance show or other shows in the evening. There is a restaurant which serves from morning till night, Baskin Robbins, other small items like corn, spiral potatoes, baked potatoes, popcorn all available at the beach. They accept KNET only throughout ur trip but do keep a little cash as some places ask you incase they are unable to deduct thru KNET. Also there are many power sockets at all the places in the reception so u can carry your charging cables, electric kettles with tea bags and stuff like that. Our trip was from 10 am to 10 pm as we had a Kuwaiti band performing but generally the trip is from 9 am to 8 pm.
Monday, November 14, 2022
Juman
The plot of Juman revolves around an extended Kuwaiti family and their marriages and relationships. It also underscores the social problems affecting Kuwaitis (which can also be felt by expats married to Kuwaitis, although that point is not brought up in the series).
Wednesday, June 22, 2022
Reflections
Carol was one of the poorest students in a rich Southern university; getting a scholarship at the age of 17. Her mother, my grandmother, Anne, was a sibling to 9 who had immigrated from Finland. They had very little. Grammy pushed mom to get an education. Even when Grammy passed away, mom spoke to her spirit every morning in gratitude and love (which is what I do daily with my mom, holding the folds of her robe or touching the last birthday card I have from her hanging on my wall).
Mom became an award-winning journalist and was the only
person I know who could make you smell something just by her vivid
descriptions; weather it be food on the table at a restaurant review or the
spray of the ocean on her cheek standing on a beach or breakwater. She wrote for the Providence Journal in Rhode
Island for almost 40 years and various magazines and newspapers as a travel
writer. Before that, she had a pretty
fabulous journalism career where she worked in Washington DC, and interviewed
Presidents, politicians and Hollywood stars (and was herself often likened to
the beautiful actress, Kim Novak). I’m secretly
thankful that mom never learned to drive because I got to travel with her as
her driver to many of the world’s most romantic places (like Australia and
Ireland and Tahiti and beautiful small islands, Isles de la Madeline in Canada
where she loved the sunlight on the cliffs).
Beautiful, strange and amazing romantic places - with my MOTHER. It has
been a blessing.
Mom was one of those unique people who could make a friend
wherever she went; frequently embarrassing her daughters as teenagers as she
would always compliment or have a nice word to say -often to the people who
appeared to need it the most.
(“Mom! Why do you have to talk to
everybody?!”) She taught us to look
around the room and tip the busboys in restaurants as they were the lowest paid.
She sent money to people she met along
her travel writing journeys who she thought needed help. Like on the Navajo reservations and in the
South on her “Hunger in America” series.
She was always kind that
way.
Because of mom, Cait and I both have “ears like dogs.” As part of mom’s restaurant reviews, she
listened to (ok, eves dropped) other patron’s conversations about the
food. She would shush us and turn an ear
to listen. Cait and I can now hear a
conversation across a crowded room while never letting you know that you don’t
have our full attention.
Mom always taught us to be independent – sometimes/mostly
fiercely independent. She never relied
on any man and she instilled the same in Cait and I. I remember once receiving an expensive gift
from a male friend as a teenager. She
was very upset because she said, “I don’t have much money right now and we have
to go buy him a gift of equal value. You
should never owe anyone anything.” I
loved that silk dress! But I’ve never
owed anyone anything. And neither has my
sister.
To those she left behind:
Mom was super proud of her businesswoman daughter, Cait, and loved to
hear Cait talk about her work adventures (often humorously). She was proud of me and my adventurous spirit
leading me to work in the Middle East.
She was equally proud of her grandson, Alex, who has inherited the
writing gene in the family (whether he chooses to use it or not, she knew that
he has it because of several eloquent stories and letters he has written) and
of the man and father he has become. She
was happy to have known her great-granddaughter, Avery who brought her so much
joy in the later part of her life; and admired Kelsey for being such a
wonderful mother to Avery. She loved the
fortitude and support of Cait’s husband, Wayne, and his calming presence in all
of our lives. Mom loved the bond that
cousin, Margaret, had with her and our Finish side of the family; a reminder of
who she was and where her side of the family was from.
And she loved the friendship and support of her neighbors,
Liz, Trish, Gary, and Amy who orchestrated the little things that meant so much
to her daily life; like visits, baked goods deliveries, taking out the trash
for her and making sure her newspaper was delivered close to her door. Little things that make a big difference to
an elderly person who was once so much more independent.
Mom often said that even though your body is aging, you are
still the same person inside. People who
knew her knew that – she had a sharp sense of humor and fascinating perspective
of life right to the end.
Tuesday, June 21, 2022
Mom - The Departure
One of the major reasons I moved back to the US from Kuwait was to help take care of my mother in her elder years. I had 4 great years with her. She might not think they were so great, as she was declining in health and couldn't get around, but I still had time with her and I'm so grateful I was able to be there with her. She has been my best friend for as long as I can remember.
I talked her her 5 times a day. She lived only 15 minutes from me, but we were always in touch. The most difficult thing about my days is the drive to work when I would always call her and hear her perkly little voice in the morning - telling me how great a day I was about to have, and asking where on the road I was. "Where are you now?" I heard her on my drive the other day, and I responded, "No, where are YOU now?" and we both had an imaginary giggle. I play her voicemails sometimes on my way to work now just to hear her voice and pretend that she's still here.
Mom had lived in a beautiful condo next to a lake for the past twenty-something years. She spent her days looking out at the water and the people on or near the water. The geese, the foxes, little boats. My sister and I moved her into assisted living after some bad falls. She really missed the lake and was sad because she was no longer mobile and had to be helped to do most things.
So, I'm going to write about her transition and departure and then backtrack a little when I can push myself to write more. I have a terrible memory and blogging helps me keep the details in mind.
Mom had had several falls at her condo and mom agreed that it was time to move into assisted living. Mom moved close by to my sister and me in June. The home looked like the Ritz Carlton and I think mom was reluctantly happy there. Mom had lost a lot of mobility during 2020/Covid when she basically stayed at home much of the time and wasn’t walking (which she loved). Mom was no longer able to get up the stairs (2 inside the condo and 10 to get up to street level). At the AL home, she was helped 24/7 by some very loving caregivers (most attended her funeral). She had a walker and had started using a wheelchair to get around. My sister got her the Cadillac of all motorized wheelchairs and although mom never learned/wanted to drive (and had to learn the basics of “driving” her chair), she got around pretty well. All of the other residents were envious.
Mom was
taken to the ER several times for unstable blood pressure. She had a very bad geriatrician/GP (in my
opinion) who didn’t’ listen to her symptoms (swollen ankles, loss of voice,
difficulty breathing, BP spikes and lows).
We found her another GP and about 10 days before her final admission to
the hospital. The new GP had ordered
oxygen and the appropriate tests (blood/echo).
It was, at that point, too late. I’m
not a doctor, but I feel very bad/guilty that I didn’t understand her symptoms better
and that they were classic of congestive heart disease. Had we known, we may have had more time with
her. However, mom was 89 and by her own
accounts, ready to let go.
She was
admitted to the hospital on November 14, and it wasn’t looking good. Mom was
in/out of consciousness and coherency (kept telling me to take care of the
sandwich mom had left on the table and to get her blue sweater from the
cleaners) and her color was bad. She spoke to the nurses and told them what a wonderful life she had lived (I think she knew it was bad).
The next
day, her best friends and us/immediate family gathered around her. Mom regained consciousness for about 45
minutes (“rally”) and made us all laugh, thanked us for loving her, and told us
mom loved all of us. Some of her last
words were, “This is weird. I’ve never
done anything like this before. Have
you? You’re all here! I guess it is true what they say that you are
surrounded by ‘your friends and family.’
Are these going to be my famous last words?” She also advised her grandson, my nephew, to
trim his beard. Mom asked if we could
sneak in a bottle of her favorite wine (Meursault) the next day; we were
planning it. She then went to sleep again.
We
admitted her into hospice that afternoon, and at 4am the next morning, mom passed
away. True to form – with humor, grace
and dignity.
It was the
best transition any of us could have hoped for.
She didn’t want to have a prolonged death or be in hospice for any long
amount of time (I believe that less than 12 hours was sufficient for her!) Her best friend, Liz, suggested that we play
Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” at her funeral.
Mom left
VERY specific instructions on what mom wanted at her funeral and we followed
them pretty precisely. (She left a file
folder for everything.) She was cremated
and has a beautiful blue hand-blown glass urn (which is in my living room);
eventually I will make the trip to the UK to her favorite islands (Channel
Islands) to scatter her ashes (“on a
beach, somewhere sunny”). We were asked NOT to have “one of those online
obituary things” but these days, it is the best way to get the information out
there, so it is out there.
Her celebration of life was the best funeral that I’ve ever been to (and better than any wedding I’ve attended). We laughed, we cried, we had great food and music surrounded by loving, interesting people. Mom would have loved it. We expected maybe 65 people and over 140 showed up; many who had just known her briefly or who mom had touched lives with like check out clerks at the grocery store, people who she had met on the trail with their dogs, handymen, her hair stylist (MY hair stylist), contractors, etc. She had a posse of close friends who mom had found late in life and they were all there for her. The service was held here in Virginia at a venue on a lake with vaulted ceilings. Mom had asked for a song to be played (“Ascent of the Lark” by Vaughn Williams) which is usually played by a violinist or cellist, so we had a string quartet that played and it was amazing. A few of the guests said that they saw a heron take flight from the lake right after the song; befitting. We had asked for yellow roses and peonies and the woman who coordinated the celebration did a stellar job of finding them – in bloom – in the winter. Everything was beautiful and perfect and happy and sad.