The New US Ambassador Rocks!

I had the honor of meeting our new Ambassador to Kuwait, Mrs. Deborah Jones, yesterday. To say that she is a breath of fresh air in Kuwait is an extreme understatement. She gave a speech to the American Business Council which summed up many ideas that I strongly believe in.

One thing she said, "If anyone ever tells you that they are an expert on the Middle East, you should question them. This region changes every day and no one is an expert." Its true. I've been here for 12 years, known Arab and Kuwaiti friend for most of my life, and every single day is a learning experience for me.

She also stressed the importance of providing young Kuwaitis with internship opportunities. I believe in that also. I think that organizations like LOYAC do amazing work. Instilling the concepts of a strong work ethic and ties to your community through volunteer programs are what builds a better work force/working country. Going overnight from a welfare state to a country where people really have to do work doesn't happen overnight. People round here need work skills and better business opportunities.

Anyhoo, Ambassador Jones wins The Official Desert Girl Seal of Approval. She is sincere, funny, and direct and I immediately liked her. I'm glad that the embassy now has a female perspective in the drivers seat.

And now with rape, you have an added bonus....

.... and with this rape, I thee wed....

What are we - in the dark phuckin ages or what??? Kuwait is going back hundreds of years.

First, I commend the "senior official in the Ministry of Interior" who brought up the fact that the police man SHOULD FACE CHARGES! He is a POLICE OFFICER. They should be above reproach - "to protect and serve". They should set an example for the rest of society to follow. Their duty is to ENFORCE THE LAW OF THE COUNTRY.

Leading me to question Kuwait's higher-ranking lawmakers: what kind of backwards MPs does Kuwait have that would collaborate on this kind of crime? Don't they have daughters? If one of their daughters were raped, would they be marrying her off to her rapist?

Let's talk about the fact that the guy held the poor victim hostage for 4 days, raping her. So, as an added "bonus" - he marries her and what - subjects her to endless years of rape and torture? What kind of justice is this? Rape isn't about sex; it is about control and mental sickness. The guy will most likely go on to rape more women. Let's face it, Kuwait, there are enough prostitutes in Kuwait to take care of the sex drives of anyone out there. Rape is rape. NON-CONSCENTUAL - as in "No. Stop." (or in my case - 'I will pluck out your eyeballs, take a steak knife to your penis, and come after not only you, but your entire phucking family...)

Again - why do I read the newspaper???

IKEA Criminology Update

I visited IKEA again this weekend and was accosted yet again by a poor Filipina lady just trying to do her job. We had bags (small bags). I thought I would push the envelope and see how far I could get.

“Madame! Madame! It is not allowed for you to take bags.”

‘Call the manager.’

I don’t think she did. Who cares? Not Ikea management. They still treat their customers like criminals.

Ikea management: Buy a stapler or a bag sealer like they have in Carrefours. Jeez. Show some creativity – after all, your store is supposed to be innovative, right?

What kind of BS is THIS?

What kind of bullshit nonsense is THIS?

WHO submitted the study? WHO came up with the idea for the study? What was the basis? WHO were the researchers and what was their methodology?

First of all, in the US, most of the primary teachers are women (and the schools are mixed gender). Does that mean that a majority of the population of the US is now gay?

What about those kids who are educated at home? Do they turn gay?

What about if a girl has a primary teacher who is a man? Does she turn into a lesbian?

What about religious leaders who had primary school teachers who were female?

Homosexuality has always been around. It isn’t suddenly increasing: It is just a matter of coming out of the closet.

Doesn’t Kuwait have enough problems between genders (like an accelerated rate of divorce) without SOME people trying to further segregate genders? The only way people will understand each other is if they live and work together. If a male kid is taught that he should stay away from a female kid; he is going to think there is something wrong with her. (Likewise with a female kid; or if someone is of another religion/culture/country, etc.) They will grow up being more comfortable (in many ways) with people of their own gender. Segregation of any kind breeds misconception and prejudice.

Honestly - I have to stop reading the newspaper.

Violent Crimes Rising in Kuwait

This story was in the Arab Times today. I had a conversation with a new Kuwaiti friend just last night in which he insisted that violent crimes are few and far between in Kuwait. "It is so much safer here than (wherever)...."

I beg to differ.

I read these stories every single day. How can people make a conscious choice to overlook them? Violent crimes in Kuwait definately ARE rising. Even 10 years ago, it wasn't like this.

Let's look at it this way, the monster mentioned in this story is in his 30's. That would have made him around 13 + (a teenager) in 1991. He might have been one of the residents who stayed in Kuwait during the occupation - witness to the autrocities - perhaps against women? How many walking timebombs are out there living amongst us? Did they get psychological help? Will they ever? How many more violent crimes will take (or are taking) place? Well gee, we don't have any statistics in Kuwait because that's not what's done, is it?

This story makes me physically sick. How soon before this guy gets out of jail on wastah? Is he out already? Maybe he went home to beat his wife or his daughters. Statistically, someone this violent will undoubtedly strike again.

Gee, what would happen if a Kuwaiti woman refused to have sex with a man? It could potentially happen, and if the same thing happened and she was lit on fire and burnt alive - you can be damn sure that everyone from the top seat in government all the way down would take notice. Families would retaliate. It would be covered everywhere on the front page - not just a tiny excerpt like this one on page 8 of the newspaper!

Is it just me, or is anyone else out there outraged by this? What if this happened to your sister or mother or wife?

Wake up, Kuwait!!!!

Good girls and bad boys

Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah – we had 5 years and we never had an argument or anything upsetting. This weekend, Bu Merdas and I got into it. Oops, I thought I had told him about some Man details. Guess not. “Were you talking to ME while you were with him?” ‘Well, I wasn’t actually seeing you….’ He left me on the rocks for a day and then it was over and we are better than before. That’s a pretty good track record. (That’s Merdas’ picture). He thought that the picture I have of Shamlan in my office/wardrobe room is of The Man. So cute. I didn’t even know that he goes into that room. I love it that he’s jealous. "Hi baby...." yummmm.

I have been begging him to invite me to his friend’s place because he has called me from there every weekend to let me hear how well the guy sings and plays oud. I beg; he refuses. “Too many men.” This weekend, I asked the Romanian to help me beg and he actually agreed. Then, the Romanian got sick and had to go home, so I didn’t go. That’s my damn luck.

I had a weird weekend because of the death of Sheikh Saad (Allah ya hermha – I hope that’s the way you spell it) and the elections. I have one particular friend – a relative of Sheikh Saad - who must be hurting a lot right now and if you are reading this, I hope you know how much your friends care about you and are thinking of you. If you’re in Kuwait, please give me a call (same number for 11 years now).

The elections have just pissed me off. Ok, Kuwait has spoken and all that crap, but c’mon people! It is the same old same old – and not one woman. The photos of the elected guys are all over the papers today and it looks like some kind of a police line-up. I’m not sayin that they’re all bad (I don’t know any of them), but either their photos are just unattractive or…. Can I ask y’alls something…. Have none of these guys ever picked up a pair of tweezers or had their eyebrows waxed? My GOD! There is one guy (WT) who has been “blessed by God” and now looks like Shrek.

God sometimes hits HARD with the ugly invisible stick.

The Romanian came up with a great gimmick and we are going to use it during the next election erection (2 to 3 years?): Vote for Mutlaq. We’re going to create our own candidate. We are going to have bumper stickers made up and T-shirts. Unfortunately, she thought of it on the day that people were going to vote (after waaaaaay to much coffee), so we couldn’t do it this year. Anyhoo, it was good for a constant stream of giggles that lasted longtime.

I saw the Tawhore last week in passing. The car (that bought and paid for him) is damaged. I take that as a metaphore. Dude brings me luck because ever time I see him, I meet another man. Thanks! Sometimes God works in mysterious ways. Things that make you go hmmmmmmmmmmm.

I can’t help it that I meet men. It is the Way of My People. It happens. I’m still a good girl…. Yes I am. I am too! Shut up!

MEW bill payments - a real pain in the butt

Electricity/Water Bill Payments in Kuwait. Al Watan Daily has a big headline this morning: Expats owing power bills to face travel ban.

I’m a baaaaad expat. It has been 11 years since I have paid my electricity/water bill. They finally busted me and I owe 780 KD. Not a BFD. What is really stupid is that my name and civil ID number was not on their records (neither was my initial 100 KD deposit). I remember throwing something away like 2 years ago that could have resembled a receipt. Oh well.

I don’t mind paying. In fact, it would have made me feel a whole lot better. If I could sit at my desk and pay my bill every month over the internet to some Ministry of Electricity and Water website, I would do it. (Ditto on my home landline with the Ministry of Communications.) If it could be automatically deducted from my account, I would be happy with that too. For 5 kd a month, I’m not really feelin it. In fact, I'm giddy that it is only that much. Kinda cool. (780 kd -- I am feelin, however - as well as the potential to be instantly cut off at the whim of some MEW dude.)

However, these people make it so hard just to pay. For the electric bill, I have to go down to their office and hopefully someone will speak like 10% English. They rarely can find your record. There is rudeness potential there (in an attempt for YOU to give them your money). This is all before you have to

1) try to locate a meter-reader dude, and
2) go with meter-reader dude to your building to have the meter read and
3) find your hariss to have him open the meter room door,
4) go back to the MEW and sit around again for a while until someone figures out how you can actually pay them.

This “system” sucks.

The MEW doesn’t even send a guy ONCE IN A YEAR with a bill to my apartment. ELEVEN YEARS is how far I’ve skated by. Is someone perhaps not doing their job (ok I know I’m not by not paying, but I’m not a collector). What has dude been doing for 11 years? How much ball-scratching can one person possibly do?

Sidenote: Why doesn't the Government of Kuwait learn something from Zain? I worked on projects like 10 years ago [at Saad Barrak's (Zain CEO) former IT company] when they were discussing a project for MEW for meter-reading and bill payments. Zain knows exactly how much you owe them - down to the minute. They even send you constant reminders on SMS. They make it reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally easy for you to pay them - and will even smile at you in the process and say "thank you". WTF MEW?! Get your shit together.

Expat Information

I came across this website (www.expatexchange.com) a while back that offers assistance to people (expats) moving to other countries - including Kuwait. The Kuwait site is HERE. There isn't a lot of information there about Kuwait.

Would you people out there please help me answer questions about Kuwait? I think a lot of newcomers are being misinformed by well-intentioned people that don't really understand.

It is a matter of the blind-leading-the-blind. If someone comes to Kuwait on a 1-2 year contract or rotation and doesn't integrate into Kuwaiti society (and this means actually becoming friends with 1 or 2 Kuwaitis), then how are they able to accurately portray Kuwait? I can say the same about people who are working at the US Embassy (mithilin). If you don't get out there and meet people, share their stories and lives, how can you advise others?

I have heard so many people tell me about how afraid they are of Kuwait; how they shouldn't speak to Kuwaitis; how they shouldn't drive at night. As my Aunt Virginia (God rest her soul) used to say, "That's a bunch of hooey."

Anyways, help some people out and respond to their questions, okay?

Little black tables

We moved into our new office months ago and my office is still not finished. Okay, so I’m picky (so says my ENFJ personality description). The enormous wood tables that the company gave me just aren’t going to cut it for me. I want something different. I even had my office sofa made because I hate the heavy “traditional” stuff that they have here. The tables that they gave me are so heavy that even the farraj can't move them.

So, my search for the 3 Perfect Tables continues. Alls I want is Ikea-style cheap tables in black. Why is it so hard? (Ikea doesn’t have what I am looking for and besides – they’ve pissed me off, so I am boycotting them now).

I have been EVERYWHERE: The One, IDesign, Mahdi Habib, Home Store, Home Center, Center Point, Ali Abdulwahab, everywhere in Dhajeej – even Souq Irani and the used furniture market. I have to try Midas’ office furniture place and Safat Al-Ghanim next. I have a little moral problem going to Safat Al-Ghanim, but they have nice stuff.

I have seen every range of truly tacky furniture there possibly could be. I love it that when I say “plain” (“sada” in Arabic), the Egyptian salesmen show me carved things and things with flowers and things with inlays of various types. I guess “plain” has different meanings to different people. I would hate to see what some of these peoples’ homes look like. EEEK.

The most overpriced crap was found at Ali Abdulwahab. OMG! Who SHOPS there??? They have quite obviously copied everything that Midas had on offer – only it has been made by the subcontractor to the subcontractor of someyoungguy in Taiwan. Cheap and really really expensive. It is also tacky. It is like they are trying to be someone they’re not. “Mutton dressed as lamb.” Dudes – what were ya thinking? Stick to what you know.

The good thing was that none of the sales people anywhere we went stuck to my ass. Well, with the exception of one person in Mahdi Habib. You know the type of sales person: the kind that follows you around like they are some kind of loose appendage on your body; so close that you can feel their breath on the back of your neck; any closer and you want to ask them to pull your hair and talk dirty in your ear… you know who I’m talking about. Why do they do that?

The Romanian and I have a system with people like this: we freak them out. We’ll feel one closing in, and on the count of 3, do an about-face in the opposite direction really fast. Several times, I’ve come close to actually knocking them over.

We were someplace recently where the Filipinas were glued to our asses (I nervously twitch – even thinking about it). I can’t remember where. I think they must be trained to do that. I get so close to just saying, “Phuck OFF!” but they probably would take it as some kind of a come-on.

Oh, okay… back to my coffee table/side table story. So alls I want is basic black, not expensive, tables. Why is simple so hard?

If you see these tables - please - help a sistah out and let me know!

One cool thing I have discovered during my travels is Souq Irani. Well, I can’t say “discovered” because I “re-discovered” it. I think the last time I was out there was maybe 7 years ago. They have all kinds of stuff – and some really incredible teak wood items as well as Indian linens/pillow covers, etc. If you want directions, just write to me, but it is across the street from the Friday Market animal section (that I refuse ever ever to go to).

Our office manager’s son gave her a fish. He’s one of those Thai blue fish – really pretty. I call him “Nemo”. Anyways, poor little Nemo has been kept in the same plastic container that they bought him in; so when I was at Souq Irani, I found a big glass fishbowl and some rocks and now he has a new home. The only problem is, they are feeding him like crazy and I think he’s going to blow up and die before he ever has the chance to really appreciate his surroundings.

Bu Merdas just called me, “Hi baby….” Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yummy. He wanted to make sure that I’m okay in this dust that we’re having. He’s just dreamy.

Ikea Treats Their Customers Like Criminals

So, I spend big bucks on furnishings. It is the way of my people. In the past 12 years in Kuwait, I have thrown down beaucoup bucks at Ikea. Never had a problem with them until recently.

When they first opened at The Avenues, Slapperella and I had been shopping at the mall and walked in with a few bags. We were accosted (literally) by 2 Ikea men who didn't speak English who pointed and waved towards the check-out desks. I don't know the word for "locker" in Arabic, so whatever they were saying made ab-so-fuckin-lutely no sense to me. They were both so rude that we turned around and left the store.

This is before we even entered the store to shop. Ya know - that's pretty pathetic. You are treated poorly even before you have the chance to look at what items they have!

On my next visit, there was a dude who did speak English and told us that we needed to put our bags in a locker. We needed 100 fils (I NEVER have coinage). So, he broke a 1 dinar and I put my stuff in the lockers and fought past people to get back into it. Knowing the system, I thought I would be ok for the next trip to Ikea.

So we went this weekend. Here is the new deal (and whose brilliant phuckin idea was THIS???): You have to go to the little info desk next to the escallator and give them your Civil ID or 5 kd for a key to a locker. If you don't return the key, you have to pay them 5 kd. First and foremost, NO ONE is getting my civil ID. Sorry, too much personal info. Aint gonna happen. When I gave them the 5kd note, they don't even give you a receipt. All the civil IDs and the money goes into a business-card holder and is left on top of the counter. Wow. That's really secure.

I'm prone to hissy fits and this just set me off. As Slaps says, "You are an activist complainer. You go one step beyond..."

First Ikea, if you have theft problems, install better security systems like cameras and security tags on smaller items. Hire more security personnel! How much can your losses possibly be on small items? I'm telling you this now - on behalf of the multitude of customers who (unlike me) won't complain directly to Ikea. There are a lot of them out there: Do you think that they are really going to take the time to sit down and write a letter?

Don't treat your customers like theives! If I want to carry my bag into your store - it should be my choice - not yours! I shouldn't have to be run after by members of your staff like I stole something - I should be rewarded for wanting to shop there (sending thousands of dinars!) in the first place.

What happened to the concept of customer service? Do you not know that you have COMPETITION in Kuwait? Safat Al-Ghanim, Midas, The One... must I go on? Ikea, you are no longer the only shop in town.

May 5, 2008 Update: Ikea sent the following SMS to my mobile

Ikea would like to thank you for giving us your comments and suggestions. This will help us improve. Ikea Customer Service. Otay, that's nice. How are YOU going to help ME?

I spoke to a very nice higher-up at Midas who says that the #1 most-stolen item from their store is an ash tray shaped like a lady's handbag. That thar is something to ponder... It just screams, "Yo! Theif-lady! Put me in your baaaag...." I'm going to Midas just to see what they look like and maybe BUY one for myself (because my parents raised me right!).

May 9, 2008 Update: Ikea responds to Blog Post via E-mail

Got a nice e-mail from the Service Operations Manager at Ikea who apologized for the "lackadaisical attitude on the part of any of our Co workers". It was a nice attempt, but unfortunately, it isn't the employees' fault; it is a policy put in place by Ikea management.

DG response:

As you know - everyone in your store must place their bags in a locker and provide either their civil ID card or 5 KD. Signs are posted in the entrance to the store. I'm not alone - this policy affects all your customers; and I am quite sure that it subsequently affects your sales. Unfortunately, until you put appropriate security measures in place (do away with the forced placement of bags in lockers), you will continue to have this problem.

As we are in Kuwait, most customers will not take the time to bring the point to Ikea management attention; Instead, they will just go to another store. I did take the time to fill out your electronic comments at the time that it happened. I also discussed it with the manager on duty at that time.

This policy is negative. It makes the customer feel bad - before they even get inside to view the items. Most stores want a positive, pleasant shopping experience for their customers. I want to feel good about spending money.

I have discussed this problem with owners of other furniture stores around Kuwait; they have stated that they would prefer small losses through theft on small items than to lose customers who make large purchases (like me).'

Kuwait - Informing People????

Check this out. I have been wondering what the hey they have been ERECTING on the sides of the road; some look like they could be walk-overs (whatchamacall'ems - pedestrian over-passes), but then my curiosity was quelled on this one. Someone (the Universe) actually listened to my ramblings! I believe this to be an actual traffic information board. Holy shit!

This particular board is on 4th Ring Rd right before 40.

Me wonders what they will have on it (Engleeezi or Aaaarabi); how many spelling and gramatical mistakes?; who will update the information; how often, etc. etc. Me further wonders if it would be possible to hack into the system and write personal opinions: "Flan is a sonofabitch!" (aka "bin gahbwaaa").

The new law on mobile phone use while driving: Obviously, it hasn't reached SOME people! For example, the guy(Camry driver - you know the type!) who drifted into our lane yesterday while on the phone. Slapperella honked and dude shows us his phone as if to say, "Hey! Can't you see I'm on a call?" Maybe the info-boards should target people like him, "Yo Dumbass! Get off the phone!"

Oh, I'm sure you want to know about my weekend, right?

I met a cute guy at the SAS who is the right age, the right intelligence, the right height, etc. He is, unfortunately, one of those open-minded dudes who is a manager at an Islamic bank (in other words, he's got a beard because he wants to further his career; also known as being hypocritical). That means sneaking around so that other "Islamic" folks don't see him. I'm not into that whole bullshit underground theory. I'm too transparent for all that crap. Heavy sigh. My species takes fear as a sign of weakness. :) I just use those kinds of men for sport.

On the way home, The Romanian and I saw a guy in a car next to us who was waving. We thought we knew him, but didn't remember from where. He remembered us (do we make THAT big of an impression or is it that we embarass ourselves wherever we go?) and invited us to a party at the Marina Residence. Have ya ever looked up at that magnificent building and wondered what the parties were like at the room on the top? Ok, let me tell you: fanfuckintastic! It is GORGEOUS. It is as if you're not in Kuwait, but at some 5 star restaurant somewhere else. The view is amazing - on the 15th floor overlooking the Gulf Road and Marina Crescent with large picture windows on a half circle. There is a wood dancefloor, a bar area, and an area for a buffet - with restaurant style seating. The ceiling is lit with little fairy lights that change colors and look like stars. We had such a nice time; good people; good music (a really outstanding guy playing the oud and a DJ); good food; amazing atmosphere.

Now I'm back at work and actually have to do several reports - which I'm totally not in the mood for today. Why can't I just be rich and play all day?

Once Upon a Time in Darkest Kheitan...

I went to Kheitan for only the second time in my life today. I had a minor fender bender and needed a police report (now THAT was fun – not). Bu Merdas went with me and took me to his cousin (a Major) who sent us to the investigator who wasn’t very nice.

Bu Merdas didn’t remember exactly how to get to the police station. We ended up driving through the section of Khaitan that is being completely demolished. (If there are any photographers out there who want to take pics of a surreal landscape, now is your big chance; it looks like a war zone on another planet.)

Does this story have a point? (Do any of my stories ever have a point?)

Maybe 8 months ago, I had a dream that was so real that I remember it in acute detail. At that time, I sent The Man an SMS telling him to be careful (about what – I dunno – but something sinister). My dream was definitely about the area I drove through today: In the dream I knew it was Kuwait, but it couldn’t have been because of the destruction/devastation (and not of Gulf War times). That area in Kheitan today is definitely the same place - which was so strange that it made me shiver. In the dream, I talked to some police men who were kind of standing around. I knew that they were bad guys (hey – similar to his worthless “friends” in real life, Bu Zega and Bu Khara) and that they didn’t have good intentions towards him (again, similar to his “friends”). I asked them where he was and they said that he had been taken away to be interrogated. They didn’t seem to care at all (again…) that he was probably being tortured. In the dream, I was desperately searching for him (crying the whole time) in that bad area and I was really really upset. There were a lot of police around and no one would help me. The sky was exactly as it was today (very dusty). In the dream, I thought it was smoke – that something was burning.

Do you ever just wonder, “What the phuck?” What does it all mean? Am I stepping out of some strange chapter of a Jude Deveraux time-travel romance novel? Could it be?

Maybe the interrogator villain is the evil She Devil.

The romance novels are usually that way: Something bad happens and the leading man has to clear his good name and get back in good standing with the leading lady. There are all kinds of twists and turns and heartbreaks… Ok, so life is different, but I’m just saying for the purpose of analyzing the dream/story.

I didn’t tell any of this to Bu Merdas because he gets jealous and he’s totally hot (just threw that out there) and happy just being next to me (even though he had to take time off work to go help me with stupid things in a really sucky area of Kuwait - getting his distasha dirty in the process) and I didn’t want to bust our mood. So there.

While I mentioned Bu Zega and Bu Khara, let me just say that if your friends are shit, you always have an opportunity to get new ones. You aren’t forced to stay with people who aren’t loyal to you; or who you question. You can find new friends – at ANY age – as long as you have a good personality and an open heart.

Which leads me (oh my God, do I go ON or what?) to a story about The Romanian... Once upon a time in a village next to the sea (Salmiya), Princess Romanian had a flat tire on her carriage (piece of shit car – might as well be a carriage). She called several “princes” who she believed she could trust when she was in distress; however they were shopping and doing stupid things and wouldn’t come to her rescue. So, there she was stuck, on the street when low and behold, a young Kuwaiti rode up and came to her aid. The tire needed to be replaced and she didn’t have money with her, so the young man paid for the tire and the tow truck – without saying a word.

Believe dat shit? It happened. There still are Prince Charmingseses out there!

So childrens, the morale of the story is this: Sometimes when you believe you can count on people in your life who are closest to you, they let you down. And sometimes when you least expect someone to help you, God sends you angels when you need it the most.

Now THAT’s the phuckin point!

The end.

Pests and more!

This frickin cracks me up. I usually have to go out of my way to look for stuff like this, but this one landed on my door. Thank God (Mashallah, mashallah), we have never had a bee-robelem (problem) with “zahyawi”or “braiaasi” or anything like that!

Just so ya know: These guys are using transliteration for roaches and gecko lizards.

I also want to know – what the F is “original dough”? What is a “gurantee”? Strengest German and English insecticides (do they have more bugs there than anywhere else?)!

That was my giggle this morning.

I had a rather un-eventful weekend: saw Bu Merdas, met some new friends…. Shopped.

Why the F doesn’t Zara ever stock XL? They have everything in the world in a medium, but nothing for girls with BOOBS. Jeez. Are the women here in Kuwait in denial or what? I know for a fact that these girls are not mediums. Zara has such cute stuff, but they suck in the never-have-your-size department. I hate that.

Oh, we ate at the Macaroni Grill at the Avenues. Yummy. They have Mac Grill in Virginia, but I haven’t been there very often. The coolest thing about them is that you can ask for crayons and draw on the paper table covering. I’m frickin Picasso… just ask anyone. I ended up drawing a giant bottle of Jose Cuervo with the slogan “I (heart) tequila!” The Romanian already knows I’m mental, but stuff like this just confirms it to her.

Sodom and Gamorrah?

I heard something that completely disgusted me. One of my “upper class” friends mentioned that he was making the circuit of election tents here in Kuwait. The candidates are trying to outdo each other on buffets to try to woo potential voters; bringing in better caterers from fancier/more expensive restaurants and hotels in a competition of opulence. (Refer to Al-Watan Daily story.) Some potential voters are going from candidate tent to tent eating as much as they can and vomiting in-between so they can eat more delicious food at each tent they visit.

What exactly is happening to Kuwait?

Go visit Hasawi or have a look at the people in Kuwait searching for food and valuables in dumpsters in any neighborhood! Shame!

I applaud those candidates who choose to be elected on their beliefs rather than once again bribing potential voters in one disgusting manner or another. If there are those out there who are equally as revolted by the distortion of good in Kuwait and make a conscious effort to stay away from these types of events, good for you! Stick to your guns and don’t let anyone tell you, “Go ahead, it’s ok.”

I’ve heard friends here say that Thank God – Kuwait has been blessed by God. Kheir. Well, did anyone stop to consider that perhaps it is a test from God of right vs. wrong?

Don't leave me, mommy!

My mom left last night and I made it all the way from the airport to my apartment without crying – and then just frick-in LOST it. I’m sure my neighbors could hear me sobbing right after I walked in the door. It was, alas, the feared Ugly Cry. I had so much fun with her and it was so nice to have someone else around for a while. Desert Dawg is depressed too – it is just not pretty at all.

At least my bitchy girlfriends won’t call me anymore and say, “I’m having sex. Ha ha. What are you doing tonight?” They probably weren’t, but they think they’re so funny. That’s fine. Payback is a bitch.

I used National Aviation Services’ Hala Services. For a small fee (around 20kd), they will greet your guest at the plane gate (with flowers if you want) and walk them through immigration/customs and all that nonsense. On departure, they will meet the traveler at the ticket counter and assist all the way up to the gate. Very cool if you have newcomers to Kuwait (or in my case, a mother who is freaked out by all the weirdness).

During my mom’s visit, I took her to the aquarium. I have been meaning to post about this and I just forgot. I haven’t been there in years. The “living desert” exhibit is awful. The poor animals are kept in small, dimly lit cages where people can tap on the glass and add to their distress. The exhibits actually smell from where you are viewing them outside of the glass. They had a desert cat (similar to a bobcat – don’t know the name), a couple of foxes, gerbils, bats, and snakes. The animals given the worst cage were the snakes; three large vipers in a tiny 1/5’ x 2’ glass box. There were 2 Saudi guys in front of us smoking and throwing trash. People had even thrown coins into one of the fish exhibits. I didn't see any security personnel at all. Pathetic, horrible and disgraceful. Yeah, and they bring all the visiting dignitaries to see it. At least as a source of national “pride”, the cages should be thoroughly cleaned. There are just too many animal atrocities in Kuwait and this one (like the national zoo) is a public and prime example.

Well, it is all back to work for me now (is it obvious?). While my mom was here, I managed to put together 2 deals which I am happy that I was able to accomplish. If one of them works out, it could mean big money for the company I work for. Inshallah.

My friend, Bu Merdas (his falcon’s name) just called me. He has The Sexiest Voice In The Whole World. He calls me “baby” and I love it: “Are you okay, baby?” He is an Arabic language teacher at an elementary school and once in a while he has his class say a group hello. He thought I needed it today. He also calls me every weekend and has his friend at the camp play the oud for me. Bu Merdas was studying to be a lawyer when his dad died and he had to come back to take care of his family. That’s how he became a teacher – not because he loves kids. In fact, he doesn’t want to get married because he is (in his words) “afraid of babies”. That shit just cracks me up. He is a big, strong guy and yet babies terrify him. He says he is afraid of hurting them. I told him that that is what maids are for. Tee hee (yeah, I’m too Kuwaiti). I love Bu Merdas. We met in 2003 at the car wash in Qadsiya and we have been good friends ever since. I don’t see him very often, but we call each other constantly (him, usually from the desert) and exchange lots of romantic words. It is kind of a long-distance love affair without the distance. I would marry him in a nanosecond if he asked. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted (except being terrified of small things). Well that, and I’m probably romanticizing something that wouldn’t work out (I do that).

I am, alas, a commitment-phobe. I can’t even commit to sofa colors or cars. I get buyer’s remorse and I get scared. I buy different color slipcovers for my furniture. I drive a rental car because I can’t decide what car I want, in what color. I have, in the past, lived out of suitcases for long periods of time. I am good at committing to jobs, but even then I sometimes get nervous and wonder if I’ve taken the right one. My life is complex.

Is anyone out there watching my new favorite show, Dirty Sexy Money? I love that series! Last week, one of the characters divorced her husband at her wedding reception! I’m not saying that would be me, but it could be me….

Queen Mum's Trip to Kuwait

My mom’s trip has been so much fun (hopefully for her, but for me too!). We have been so busy and going so many places, doing so many things.

Queen Mum's Dinner:

After a lot of searching, I found a great venue for a private, intimate dinner reception at the Moevenpick, Bidaa. What is perfect about the room is that it opens to a terrace that faces the garden and the sea beyond. It was a full moon (or close) last night and it was absolutely gorgeous with little fairy lights illuminating the trees. I anticipated 45 people (35 showed up), so the room was perfect. The banquet salesman tried to talk me into a heavier dinner menu, but I stuck to my guns (as I told him, ‘Its not a Bedouin wedding.’) with a cocktail menu consisting of a saj stationon the terrace and light food (salads, shrimp kebabs, deserts) and thank God I did. We had SO much food and it was a great selection. They also served sheesha on the terrace.

The Romanian, my mom and I went to decorate the room before the dinner. I bought purple fabric to cover the tables and to add bows to each of the chairs; I bought 25 meters of purple toule fabric from Salmiya for 11 KD (my best find!). I bought floating flower candles for the centerpieces, and added silk flower petals on the tables. The total cost for the room decorations was about 25 KD. It looked gorgeous with the lights dimmed. … I have been watching a lot of “Whose Wedding is It Anyways,” on the Style Channel (it is about the lives of wedding planners)!
The only thing I was really disappointed with was the oud player. I had been trying to find a Kuwaiti oud player (I asked everyone I could think of) who would just come in with the oud and play solo – no fancy audio equipment or anything. What I got (on a reference from a friend at the Hilton) was a very loud Syrian guy who couldn’t play Kuwaiti songs and who brought an organ and a big sound board with speakers. When I asked him just to play the oud and to cut out everything else, he actually told me that he couldn’t play without back-up. Bullshit. How can you not know how to play the oud solo? He was an oud poser. I told him to play for 1 hour; Kuwaiti songs only. (and for THAT he wanted to charge me 150 kd – I talked him down to 75). He started with an Egyptian song and I frickin lost it. I guess they think that foreigners wouldn’t understand. I sicced Bunny on him (who also calmed me down at the same time). Anger management. Ooooooh saaaaah.

Anyways, if anyone ever wants a nice place for a dinner gathering, I highly recommend the Moevenpick. Outstanding job. My friends all loved it and everyone was happy. My mother said, “If I had any doubt about your life here, I know now how many people love you.” I am truly blessed.

My mom leaves tomorrow night and I am already getting depressed. Desert Dawg is getting depressed because she’s seen the suitcases (I try to hide them before I travel because it is just too traumatic for her). My mom says, “You’ll have your normal life back.” What if I don’t WANT my normal life???

I love having her here. I love taking her places and showing her things and seeing everything through her eyes/perspective. Every view is like looking through the lens of a camera – you focus on things that you haven’t seen before. I love having her around to tell me what looks good on me and what doesn’t. I like that she gives me her opinion on my friends and people I know and pinpoints exactly what it is about them that has been in my head, but that no one has said out loud. Ironically (or not), she likes everyone I truly like and she tells me things about people in question that I knew, but perhaps didn’t pay attention to.

Well, as examples, people who didn’t bother to RSVP to her dinner or show up should be eliminated as friends. I knew that, but I didn’t know how strongly I should feel about it. Now I’m all fired up. Well, I understand that it is a cultural thing not to RSVP in this area, so I kind of didn’t worry to much about the Kuwaiti friends, but I’m talking about Westerners who shoulda known better. I’m also upset at friends who went ahead and invited their friends without asking me first. Similar to a wedding reception, I paid by the head. Two different friends invited their friends and then they didn’t show up – sticking me with a bill. I could have invited other people that I know and like. I think that if I have another party like this in the future (and I definitely will), I am going to add a disclaimer to the invitation: “If you don’t RSVP, please don’t show up. If you say you are going to come, please be considerate and show up or send a gift in an equal denomination.” Sheeeet, send flowers the next day with a note … something! That’s only fair, isn’t it? I don’t even know these people and yet they stiffed me for dinner! That just sucks. I wouldn’t do that to someone.

We did have a great mixture of cultures last night: American, Kuwaiti, Scottish, German, South African, Indian, Egyptian, Lebanese, and Italian. I love that.

I think my mom was really happy, so everything was worthwhile. She said that she has never had a party like that before. I’m glad I could do it for her.

You're only as old as the man that you feel....

I’m having the coolest birthday ever. Well, except maybe for a few when I was a kid and a drunken one in a limo with several of my galpals (long story: what happens in the limo stays in the limo) – not "WITH" the galpals, dirtythinkers!

My mommy is here. She is my best birthday gift. We are at the halfway mark of her 2 week stay. I don’t understand why she doesn’t stay longer when she comes here. It isn’t enough time! (I mean – what’s not to love about Kuwait????)

We’ve been so busy that I can’t even remember all the stuff we’ve done. This whole week, we have been waking up early and coming home late. We went to all the new malls, some of the old souqs (Mubarakia, Friday Market). We’ve eaten all over the place – mostly yummy seafood. Alas, unlike me, my mom isn’t a sushi fanatic. I’ve taken her to all the cool places; introduced her to new friends and reconnected with old friends.

We went to see my friends in Nuzha. When mom first came here in 1998, there were only 70 people in the immediate family (15 brothers, 4 sisters, their spouses, and kids). Now, there are 120 (So, what are you going to do today? Oh, reproduce, of course. - you know they're at it all the time. Must be.). It is a circus and we can only stand to stay a short time. When I first walked up to the house, one of the sisters saw me getting out of the car and shouted (down the street!), “(Desert Girl!) You got fat!” I’m like, “Shloanich inti, zayna?” They say that and then they shovel like the equivalent of 9 pounds (4 kilos for you non-‘mericans) of food in front of you at lunch. “You must eat.” (Uhhh, actually… I must not - especially if you be calling me fat). They had fugaa – I had to have some of that. Also murubian. Had to have some of that too. Well, that family isn’t svelt either. One of the “kids” is over 6’4” tall now and weighs around an unnerving 400 pounds (180 kilos). He frightens me. His boobs are bigger than mine. Anytime a man can outdo me in the boobs department, it is a bad, bad thing.

The Nuzha family is cool, but they have been trying to marry me off to one of the brothers (no manboobs) since 1993. Not my type, but he’s a good friend. He likes Americans; he’s lived in the US for many years. Nobody bothered to tell me that he is remarried and his wife is pregnant (with twins!). She looked a little shocked (seeing me or being pregnant with numbers 121 and 122 and seeing the shenanigans). He already has 2 boys from his 2nd marriage to a 2nd American wife. The latest one is Kuwaiti and I told him, “3 times a charm.” I hope so. When I saw his x-wife at their house a few years ago, and the kids were running around screaming and yelling, she turned to me and said, “Look around – all this could be yours.” Scared the bejezus out of me. In between marriages, they always call me to get me “re-acquainted” with him. Well, I don’t know if they were doing it on purpose or not, but throughout the lunch, different family members called me by the names of his 2 American x-wives. I kept looking at his poor current wife, maskeena. I’m like, “Yo! I’m (Desert Girl)! Not (flana),” in my usual diplomatic and demure Desert Girl style.

Back to food….

My refrigerator is full of more food than I know what to do with. I’m always afraid there won’t be enough of that one particular thing that the moms likes. I don’t usually have very much food around because I’ll eat it. JaberBunny brought over an enormous tray of kanafah and usmalia and she is addicted to that now. I’m so glad I have stayed friends with Bunny for so long. He is such a dear friend. I have so much respect for him.

I’m not cleared to fly yet. The doctor says my ears still need recovery time. Mom and I were planning to go to Oman, but can’t make it. There isn’t enough time anyways.

My mom is scared to death of the driving here. I think she has clawed holes into the seats of my car in a death grip. I have become accustomed to the terrible driving, but it scares the crap out of me when you see it from a newcomer’s perspective. I don’t believe in slowing down because if you don’t go with the flow, you become a sitting duck to be picked off by zigzagging reckless drivers. I have slowed down for her and it worries me even more. Well, that and her gasping and clutching the chair for dear life. If she could only see what I see in the rearview…. All that terror makes me nervous. By the time I get home, I am shaking. If she only knew that her reaction is so much more dangerous to us than the actual traffic, she would be shocked. Do you think it is wrong to ask her to sit in the back seat? I drive a big SUV.

By the by – why is it that when I’m with my mother, men are suddenly more interested in me? That is so weird. They’ve been following me all over in the car (“Oh my God! You have a stalker!!!!”) and even in the malls and stuff. How sick is that? These are even on days when my hair is a mess and I’m not wearing any make-up.

We totally missed that big storm. DAMN! I love to be in the middle of all the action too! We got in the car in 1997 (or 98?) and drove around during the humungous flood – THAT’s how much I adore adventure! (Also known as, “You’re an idiot, Desert Fool!”) This time, my mom and I were having coffee down at Kout and there wasn’t even a drop of rain. The sky got dark and it was just a little breezy with one or two flashes of lightening, but that was it. People have been sending me pictures of it all week. Wish I coulda been IN da storm. Oh well. Maybe tonight or tomorrow. I hope my mother doesn’t freak too much.

I took her to a meeting of a certain American (business group). I kept poking her so she wouldn’t fall asleep. It went on FOREVER. Zzzzzzzzz. She already said how surreal it was to take the United flight from Dulles (as she says, “The contractor flight”). Said that it was full of men – very few women – and that the men just seem to ignore everyone. Yep – that’s how I feel. That’s ok, though, because I don’t like chatter while I’m flying: I like to sleep and snore. I don’t care how loud because I don’t know any of those other people and quite frankly, I’m not easily embarrassed. Most of the time, you can’t hear me over the sounds of the engines anyways, so WTF.

I would love to write more about the business group's rants, but damn – everybody knows who I am on here now and I’ve lost some of my anonymmmmmmity. Hate that. I can’t trash anymore. Big bummer.

I always check out Mark’s 248am blog (if I wasn’t IT-inept, I might be able to figure out how to add that favorite link listing onto my freakin blog!!!) and he wrote about something near and dear to my heart: eggs. I too have been disgusted of late about the state of Kuwait’s eggs. I don’t bother with those small, disgusting eggs anymore. Mark wrote how he bought Naif eggs and they were rotten (LINK). Doesn’t surprise me. I have noticed that The Sultan Center doesn’t have any more of the 4.75 kd (yep - nearly 18 bucks!) per DOZEN cartons anymore (the chicken that lays the golden eggs). They have been replaced by Bu Ali. If you haven’t tried Bu Ali’s eggs, you should. The yokes are really orange (meaning fresh); the eggs are large; and they come in a see-through container, so you don’t have to open them and damage the goods. You go, Bu Ali!!!! We love you and your eggs! I’m going to start a poll: How many of you have tasted Bu Ali’s eggs? Tee hee.

Egg-segue

I’m back in the office for a few hours and they just gave me a small birthday party with cake and a presentation tribute. I love my job. This is the best job I’ve had in Kuwait – all bitching, moaning, and complaining aside. What a nice thing for them to do. Very cool birthday. People do love me. I feel so warm and fuzzy.

Happy birthday to me
(and Chicky sings) Cha cha cha
Happy birthday to me
(and Chicky sings) Cha cha cha

It's Desert Girl, Bitch! Danger, Danger, Danger, Danger

Have you heard Britney's song, "Gimme More"? That is The Romanian and my theme song. I like 2 parts of the song: in the beginning when she says, "It's Britney BITCH" [which in Kuwait sounds like, "It's Britney bi" (and then leaves you hangin')] and at the end when dude says, "danger, danger, danger, danger." And the main morale of the song is that if you get a leetle sex, you want a leetle more (that's just a DG's interpretation). Anyhoo, a wonderful theme song for me this morning. (Need I say more; wink wink, nudge nudge?)

Let’s start with some amusing, creative bitching, shall we? Usually, when I’m naked and running around my apartment trying to get ready for work in the morning (my neighbors across the street love me), I turn on CNN. I would just like to know WHAT THE PHUCK WERE THEY THINKING this morning? Who CARES about Heathrow’s Terminal 5? (I stopped traveling on BA when they got all weird on their security procedures – shit BA/Heathrow – take an example from KLM/Schipol. All the security without the 3-hour lines and luggage limitations. How many customers did you lose forever???) Ok, interesting news snipet, but just that – a snipet. Nothing to go on and on about for 30 minutes when people are trying to find out what the PHUCK is happening in the world! They could have turned to Kuwait and the tribal riots last night. Riots! In Kuwait. Way cool.

What I want to know is this: What happens when the riot police are from the same tribe that is rioting? Is that why some of them had their faces covered? Dudes, can’t we all just get along? I noticed that Al-Watan Daily had much more coverage of the story than the Arab Times (the usually-outspoken Mr. Ahmed Al-Jarallah wrote about Syria...). I wish someone would have told me that there was going to be such a large gathering of Bedouin men so close to my home. Damn – it was like a buffet. I would have put on something cheap and slutty and gone down there (perhaps even my new PINK shoes!). So much passion in the air! This photo (in the Arab Times today) shows security forces grabbing the problem by the ...


So much excitement! Cojones.

I have met some VERY funny people lately through this blog. OMG! I sit at my desk cracking up all day (no! Of course I’m not getting any work done – I’m still in recovery. It pissed me off that I got sick while on a BUSINESS trip and no one even called me from my office – except our HR/Admin guy who I’m crushin on – to see if I was still alive. They owe me.).

Anyhoo, back to my caffeine-induced story.

There must be something in da stahs (the stars) lately. The people I am meeting – who know very little about me other than years of BS on this here blog – as so much like me and so “in tune” with me. It is as if we are long-lost friends or something. I love it, but at the same time, it is freaky how accurately they know me. Me likes.

I met a friend, Spawn, who has been kicked out of anger management several times and I SO AGREE with his philosophy: you go to anger management to sit in a room full of stupid people because stupid people have pissed you off. Do you catch the irony? This is why it probably wouldn’t work for me either. Stupid people piss me off. He’s moving to Kuwait soon and I have already warned him that Kuwait is the Center of the Universe for Stupid People. I’m not generalizing on any nationality/race/creed/color/sexual preference: I’m just saying that ALL the stupid people everywhere in the world converge in Kuwait to drive (for example): Most recently, on 4th & 5th ring roads. Lots of them have also been spotted around Hawalli and Shuwaikh recently.

I, through the help of Spawn, have concluded that I am an ENCE: Emotionally Needy, Challenged, and Explosive. (ENCE could also refer to the photo above, but we're talking about ME now!)

Well, dude sounds a lot more relaxed now and maybe he can help me work through some of my many many many ENCE issues. If not, Ace Hardware has a lovely selection of chainsaws and maybe I can work off some of my pent up aggression in that manner.

Spawn says that his anger management coach’s name is Dick. Well, my anger management coach could be Dick too. So could be my stress manager – Dick. Personally, I could use Dick to solve many of my problems. I think that those people who are able to overcome obstacles in their lives – with the help of Dick – are generally kinder, nicer people. All we really need in the world is MORE DICK. (Ok, perhaps a little less at riots...)

Okay, and on to my other new buddy that I met over this blog – I will call him Energy Guy – has been sending amazingly insightful e-mails. It is like we have known eachother forever and we just haven’t called.

Is the Universe phuckin with me again? It seems to happen in Spring.

Did I mention how much I adore Spring? It is the time of rebirth and renewal: everything comes full circle again and the flowers are blooming.

My dad died on March 29th, two years ago. The wind blew as I walked up to his home and I remember the smell of the flowers and the cherry blossoms sweeping across his walkway. If he had died during the cold of winter, it would have been much worse. I think that it is just the continuation/cycle of life. I think that he was ready to go – maybe to join his sister, my aunt Virginia, who he loved so much. I miss you, Daddy.

The day that my father died, I got into a huge “emotional state” with The Man. I can’t remember being so sad and upset: I was on the sofa just sobbing. At the time, I thought it was all about The Man: Not so in reality. It was at the same time that my father was passing away. I think part of me knew that my dad was going. I’m kind of psychic (especially when I’m emotional) and I remember asking The Man if one of his uncles was sick because I felt very strongly that he would die. I remember telling him that if he knew someone like that, he should go to him and talk to him immediately. I was projecting – it was about my own father. We all get signs, it is just how you interpret them.

The Man has managed to piss me off again – though, truth be told, it is my fault. It is so interesting with some creative psychological aspects; and I wish I could write more, but so many people here know who I am and I can’t be anonymous about it – too personal. Basically, whenever I have sent him any messages or SMSs during this past year, he has shown other people, who then send me messages mocking me. It seems rather cruel and childish, doesn’t it? Why not just ignore the messages? Why would I continue to send him messages one might ask? Well, probably because I don’t care if I’m mocked – I want him to know that (at least my) love doesn’t die (even if you try your damndest to kill it); that sometimes you just miss someone and want to reach out: Even if the recipient takes what is intended to be a gesture of kindness and turns it into something ugly. In my opinion, if I do something good intentions; then it is just that. If someone twists it somehow, well… that’s between them and powers-that-be on judgment day. It is interesting how people have different perspectives (vantage points).

And now – for something completely different.

My mommy will be here soon. Yippeeeeeee! I can’t wait. She hasn’t been here since 2000, and this is her 4th or 5th trip here. I’ve changed most of my living room furniture and I’m cleaning everything and buying new stuff. I’m on a mission. I had 2 sets of slipcovers made for my sofa (off white and deep purple/eggplant). The dude at the furniture store said that only 1 in 100 customers ask for slipcovers when they are making their sofas. I don’t understand that – especially if you have kids that mess everything up. It just makes sense to be able to change the entire look of your place with different fabrics and colors.

(Sidebar: On the subject of decorating/creative types: Have you noticed on Showtime how the series "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" is called "Fab 5"? Is "queer" a bad word? Methinks not; especially when the word "transvestite" has been plastered all over the newspapers here lately as they are rounding up and arresting tranies in Kuwait.)

Anyways, I’m trying to plan a large dinner party for when my mother comes here (wish the Fab 5 were here!), but I haven’t been able to find a suitable venue. I don’t want someplace impersonal like a banquet hall. I was thinking about someplace with a pool. Does anyone know a villa you can rent? It’s a party for my mother not for strippers for crying out loud!

Bunny was there when I made my furniture back in 2003 and he has been helping me with the new stuff. I can’t wait till its done. I’ve been running around to all the cool furniture stores taking pictures of what I want (before the security guards catch me) to have made in Dhajeej. Well, my kickass entertainment stand was off the intenet. Anyhoo, I wish Bunny had more time in his life for me, me, me. Between his job, his 5 kids, his widowed-sister’s 5 kids, his need to buy cars for every single person old enough to drive in his family… there is no time for me me me. I’m an ENCE! I need the attention.

I thank God for friends like him (and my new friends and my not-so-new friends) every day of my life.

My Business Trip to Mersin, Turkey

I went to Turkey – to Mersin on the eastern Mediterranean coast. I had only heard of Mersin before when I worked for PWC/Agility and they were just breaking ground on a warehouse there. I knew very little about the country. The area is kind of like the Turkish version of our very own Redneck Riviera in the US. I arrived at the airport in Adana, which is approximately 45 minutes to my final destination. I went without (really) studying a map or learning any Turkish – which I regretted. Adana airport is very small, but it does house two large duty free shops full of liquor (and very little else). As I waited for my luggage to arrive on the airports one carousel, the shop clerks waved me in. They had vodka from everywhere in the world – in ever imaginable bottle. I liked the hot-pink bottle called, “For Girls”. I asked the burly Turkish clerk if he had ever tried it. He shook his head rigorously and made me laugh. (I bet he had!) Out there, in the middle of nowhere, I found a very nice bottle of 2005 Chilean Cabernet Savignon – my favorite (unfortunately, I got sick as soon as I got to the hotel and only enjoyed half a glass. The bottle looked pretty in the room, however.).

I was invited to attend the “1st International Business Women Congress” by The Association of Enterprising Business Women, GISKAD. 250 women from different countries… and then me. There were women from Kazakhstan, Egypt, Moldova, Syria, UAE, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Sudan, Tunisia, Ukraine, Italy, Pakistan and Turkey.

I was the only person representing Kuwait. That’s right – me, an American – representing my country, Kuwait. [H.E. Nouriyah Sabieh (Minister of Education) was also supposed to attend from Kuwait, but didn’t. I had really looked forward to meeting her too, so I was quite disappointed.] In a strange, ironic way; many of the women at the conference actually thought I was Kuwaiti. “Why do you speak with an American accent?” (Not that I would mind being Kuwaiti, but what is wrong with that picture? Ever played that game as a kid, “One of these things doesn’t fit with the others”?) I really felt duty-bound to be on my best behavior (or at least appear to be). I was the only Westerner there (but definitely NOT the only blonde there – and OMG what blondes!) The CEO of our company asked me if I was behaving as an American or a Kuwaiti. After pondering that question: I think that perhaps due to the level of diplomacy required, I behaved more like a Brit.

As far as appearances go, I was one of the few who weren’t wearing spandex, stretch-satin, sequins, fishnet stockings, or rhinestones. One young lady had the words, “playboy” prominently displayed down both arms on her shirt. There were many mini-skirts and lots of tricky-clicky stiletto shoes. Lots of women wore jeans or athletic clothing. There was an enormous amount of hideous hairstyles that seemed to have come out of the early ‘60s, held together obviously with glue and boatloads of hairspray. There were equal amounts of Russian Red (that is actually a color by MAC) lipstick, black nail polish and bad perfume. Yes yes, did I mention it was a business conference? Out of all fairness, the exact type of business was only mentioned in the invitations/documents several hundred times.

I would love to be able to write a saleable story about this, but I can’t. First, because the tourism people paid for (most of) my trip and their hospitality was just overwhelming. I don’t want to dis a group of people who have been so kind (and get paid for it), so I can vent here in an anonymous forum (my blog) with (hopefully) no fear of getting in trouble or upsetting anyone. Well, I’m not disrespecting the organizers: It was, after all, their first attempt at such a forum. Organizing an event with 250 women can not possibly go off without a hitch. Hopefully, if any one of them ever reads this, they’ll know that I’m looking at it from a humorous/interesting perspective rather than trying to be demeaning.

We were organized into 2 groups: The group at the good hotel and the group at “the other one”. I was in the “other one”: The Taksim Hotel: 46 floors and no air conditioning; Every room a smoking room and not a single window that you could open. I asked for a room on a lower floor (fire, earthquake?) and was told that the hotel level starts at 32. I was on 37. My ears popped every time I rode the elevator. It was the first “5 star” hotel that I’ve ever stayed in that didn’t accept American Express. It was also the only “5 star” with actual holes in the furniture and stains on the floors. The good hotel was the Hilton right on the sea. I couldn’t even see the sea from my room. The Taksim reminded me A LOT of the Al-Rasheed Hotel in Baghdad. I think they both used the same decorator: NASTEH. Whatever 3rd world cleaning fluid they used on the floors was also identical; I don’t know what it is, but it smells like burning wood. I smelled it in Egypt as well.

Everybody smokes in Turkey! I thought that Kuwait was bad in this regard, but Turkey is the worst. I went to Turkey with a bad cold. I’ve got asthma and couldn’t breathe. Then, I got feverish. I went outside at one point to “get some fresh air” and a little old lady wearing hejab sat down right next to me and lit up! Even little old ladies?

I don’t know if their local community is really ready for a business women’s conference. The night before the conference, we were provided with packets including our itinerary and “Guide for Businessmen”. We were herded like cattle into the little ballroom of the Hilton in Mersin, and then practically trampled by the onslaught of male Turkish media covering the event who bumped the participants out of the way; I’m sure you know the type – pony tails and khaki men.

Unfortunately, the female participants talked, and generally behaved badly through most of the opening presentations (and not even in a “reserved” Kuwaiti fashion). It reminded me of the old days in Salmiya Cinema. All that was missing were the laser pointers. It was disheartening that women in a group should prove the stereotype that women talk too much (obviously, some do!). It wasn’t a civilized group. The Russians were shouting translations across to each other behind me. The Syrians were just talking to each other as if nothing was happening at the front of the room. The Sudanese women were actually pretty well behaved throughout the opening – probably because they had a speaker in the opening ceremony. People smoked in the back of the room. It was a circus. We had an interpreter into English through headsets, but unfortunately I couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying because the accents were so thick. I finally got up and walked in front of the sea (I couldn’t walk too close because unfortunately there was a chain link fence between the sea and the hotel.)

During lunch at the 1st International Business WOMEN Congress, the men rushed first to the buffet line: So much for ladies first. Even the rent-a-cops ate first. To add insult to injury, I stood in the corridor outside the ballroom after lunch waiting for the next program and a man started shouting at me in Turkish. I had no idea what he wanted, so I asked him, “What do you want?” He pushed me! It turned out that he was one of the Minister of State’s security guards. Well gee, no one told me. I had no idea. I was wearing a badge and everything – he wasn’t. (Once again, at the Business WOMEN Congress!). It was so insulting that I thought about getting on the next plane. One of the Egyptian women told me to “calm down”. Later in the day, the same man tried to push her too and she had the same reaction. The next insult came when one of the men from the Trade Commission asked me if I wanted to take a tour of the city after dinner… meaning at midnight. AS IF. Yeah, let’s go watch the submarine races… Several of the other women were also propositioned in the same way, much to the disgust of the Turkish delegates.

I like how the meetings were organized to promote trade with local companies: Each participant (or group of participants from the same country) had their own table with a Turkish flag and their home country flag (in my case, Kuwait). The organization had pre-arranged meetings with local companies wanting to do business with particular countries or companies. An organizers representative told me that my table was the most popular. I talked for almost 5 consecutive hours. My throat was raw, my head ached, and I didn’t have time to go back to the hotel to change for the Gala Banquet – and I was too tired anyways. Some of the women wore ball gowns. I wore sensible shoes and a black suit and the same make up for 12 hours. Even my push-up bra went South.

The cultural differences among the ladies were quite amusing. We had an interesting cross-section of ages, sizes, colors, religions, and ethnicities. We never really cracked the language barrier, but most of us did okay with hand signals. I had a really hard time trying to explain to an Azerbaijani woman, diplomatically, that her name is the same as my dogs. The very tall Sudani women got into a huge fight and shouted at each other (staying at the same hotel, so they were on the bus with the Russians and I). I think I was the only person who understood what they were saying. One of the Sudani women kept saying, “Diplomacy! Diplomacy!” as she tried to get her friends to stop shouting at each other. It was the only phrase in English – the rest was Sudani Arabic which as a dialect, I can’t understand very well. The Russians claimed their own bus and kicked everybody else off. One of the Russian women pushed me out of the way at a clothes rack during our stop at the mall. (Mahmut, one of the young Turkish men who were guides came to my rescue. I miss Mahmut. I could use him at Mubarakiya) The Emirati women kept to themselves most of the time (telling jokes and talking about people) and all the Russian women wanted to have their pictures taken with them (now there was a contrast!).

Sometime along the line, I introduced myself to the Emirati group and said, “I’m from Kuwait.” Immediately they said, “Wheeeeee! We have been looking for you. Are you all alone? Come join us, ya Kuwait!” They turned out to be very nice and very funny. We are, after all, neighbors. A woman who I referred to as “maynoona” (because two minutes after I met her was cracking dirty jokes in Arabic) owns a dayn al oud business and she had several vials and shared it with everyone on the bus – including the driver. Another of the Emirati women (Dr. Raja) was absolutely gorgeous, tall and statuesque. She told me that her son is going off to school in Boston and how sad she is going to be without him. She is already losing sleep and shedding tears. We’re all different, but we’re all the same, really.

The group organizers took us on tours of the neighboring town of Tarsus which was interesting in an out-of-body/surreal kind of way. It has ancient buildings and roads and lots of history; most of which was not explained in very much detail. In order to get around, we went in approximately 7 large busses. Apparently, no one told the villagers that we would be invading their town. It became pretty funny. The Syrian women started singing and people from everywhere opened their windows and peered out to get a look. The police stopped traffic and stopped where they were standing and stared. The street vendors made a fortune selling bread, baklava and lemonade. We went to see churches and mosques, museums and malls. One of the young Emirati ladies asked me if it was okay to go in the church. I told her that nothing would fall on her head. It was the Church of St. Paul – very old with beautiful mosaics on the ceiling and a lovely garden. I ran off on my own to find ice cream – which is really good in Turkey. I was tired and ended up back at the bus watching a group of old men play (and cheat at) backgammon on the sidewalk.

Unfortunately, the “person in charge” of the entire entourage was the only person who really must have known what was going on throughout the tour. We didn’t know where we were going next and we sure didn’t know where any bathrooms were located (um, it must have been a man doing the organizing because any woman would know that if you have a group of 250 women, there should really be bathrooms). At the lunch stop at a restaurant overlooking beautiful waterfalls, for example….. there were only 2 bathrooms and one of them was for men. The guys were just SOL because we invaded. On the flip side, anyone had provided us bottled water during either the conference or the tours, that might have been nice too. I thought I would literally faint several times – and I’m not a fainting kinda gal.

The last night of the conference, a “dinner” was on the agenda. It turned out to be a several-hour performance of cultural classical Turkish music and dance – which was amazing. I loved it. The voices were fantastic and they had choreographed everything so well; really went to a lot of time and trouble. Too bad I was sitting in the middle of the Syrians. One of them was loudly complaining about how long it was taking. Why can’t people just shut the F up and be gracious? I was hungry too, but people went to so much care to arrange the show for us. Retards. Obviously, they’ve nevah had any cultcha.

During the performance, gift bags containing small items were handed out to all the participants. Wonder of wonders – it also contained a map of the area (which would have really been nice to have on the first day).

I was so sick through all of this. I had a fever and problems breathing. I blame our IT manager at work who coughed all over our office before I left Kuwait. (WHY don’t mothers teach their kids to cover their damn mouths???). It was pretty scary being alone in a hotel room in a country where not many people speak English and not being able to breathe. The last night we were there, it was hot during the day and really cold and windy at night. I couldn’t even eat much (fer sure no great desire for fried food) and I was dying for soup. Mahmout felt sorry for me – I could tell. I got on 3 flights (congested) to go back to Kuwait and I really messed myself up.

Have you ever wanted to kiss the ground when you have gotten off a plane? I have felt that way the first time I came to Kuwait after the invasion and this time.

The Romanian picked me up at the airport and drove me to the hospital. Whenever your doctor checks you out and continually repeats, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Are you in pain?” …something is very wrong. No, it wasn’t TB and it wasn’t Bird Flu or pneumonia (I know because I made them check). I spent a week on outpatient treatment for 2 “severely infected” ears and severe bronchitis. I got nebulized in the mornings and the nights and had an IV antibiotic course daily for the week. My doctor said that my ears “looked like someone stuck 2 tomatoes on your head.” (I am still recovering after being at home in bed and at the hospital for a week.)

My dad once called me a “slob kid” for not appreciating these types of gifts; being able to take the trips that I do and see the things that I get to see. I do appreciate it and I am very grateful (of course to God, but also to everyone who went to so much trouble), but it was one of those experiences that I’m glad that I had, but wouldn’t want to repeat. I’m happy to be home.

One year since I've Heard The Man's Voice

I haven't posted because I've been dead - I'll write more about that later.

Today, it is the one year anniversary of the last time I spoke to The Man. It is the day of The Incident. One year in which he has proven that he didn't choose to be with me. He could have come and found me. He could have called me. He could have showed me that he wanted ME, but he didn't.

It is like I don't even know him because when he sees me, he looks right through me as if I'm not there. He doesn't speak to me, or to my friends, or to people that we know. I'm just not there.

When you love someone so much, how is it so easy to just forget them as if they never were? How can you do that? How can you go so far and then shift gears to reverse like nothing ever happened?

I've talked about this a million times with my girlfriends. I am/we are still confused. If our situation is the way it is now - does that mean that he never even cared to begin with? How is it possible that it was "real" love if the same person who loves you now doesn't know you? It goes against everything that I've ever believed in.

I think I am a good judge of character. I think I can determine when someone is good and decent or if someone will betray me. Why can't I understand this?