Toto... We're Not in Kuwait Any More

It's typical following any move to find yourself comparing one life/home/neighborhood with another. Even in our situation, I cannot help but compare our new life in Jordan, with our lives in Kuwait or even Cairo. And so far, allowing for the possibility that I may completely negate myself in the future, I would say that Jordan seems to be the perfect melding of Cairo and Kuwait. How so? Well, Amman is definitely a modern city like Kuwait. It has well-maintained roads, malls, coffee shops, movie theaters, sports clubs, etc. But it still has a touch of Cairo's wackiness with quaint back alleys and kitchy shops, road-side sellers and camels grazing by the highway.

As usual, however, their similarities are far less interesting than their differences. And as we continue to settle in, I find that I'm discovering more and more examples of how different Jordan and Kuwait are.  Here are the most obvious differences I've noted so far:

1.  Seasons!  Jordan has four seasons and I can't tell you how utterly thrilled that makes me. Autumn is my favorite time of year, and not only do we get cool temps here, but we also see leaves changing (just a few, as most trees are palms or firs, but I'll take it)!  Who needs Vermont, right? (Okay, it's not nearly that colorful, but I've been so deprived of seasonal changes for years that I'm reveling in this.)

2.  Women's hair; it's everywhere.  This is closely tied with numbers 3 and 4, and it's all in relation to Jordan being less conservative than Kuwait or Saudi.  Yes, it's still predominantly Muslim, but I've seen only a fraction of women in full black coverage (niqab, abaya, hijab, etc.), whereas in Kuwait that was the norm. And in almost two years in Kuwait, I don't recall seeing one bobbing ponytail.  Some women still wear hijabs in Jordan to cover their hair, but they're often colorful like in Egypt.  But I'm still seeing more women's hair flowing than I've seen in years.  It's like a never-ending Pantene commercial.

3.  Crosses worn openly.  I was honestly shocked at the number of women I've seen wearing crosses on necklaces and bracelets.  Which, in and of itself, told me that it had been an uncommon sight in my life that I hadn't really even noticed.  It's a little odd to notice an absence, isn't it?

4.  Martini Mondays.  Kuwait was a dry country, meaning no alcohol, even in Italian restaurants (which drove my husband crazy).  However, in Egypt, restaurants would serve alcohol, and there were even shops called Drinkies that not only sold beer and wine, but would also deliver it to your door.  But even still, coming to Jordan where there are actual liquor stores and popular restaurants advertise "Martini Mondays" and "Tequila Tuesdays" is a bit of an adjustment, even for me.

5.  Bookstores selling books.  In Kuwait, I spent a few months searching for bookstores.  I was able to find about three, and they were tiny.  The Virgin Megastore that had been touted as Kuwait's largest bookstore was closing within months of our arrival.  I overheard a clerk telling someone, "We can't sell anything here. The censorship is too strong."  Maybe he was making it up, maybe he wasn't.  Regardless, the one book we bought in Kuwait was a child's Arabic vocabulary book, and we bought it at the grocery store.

6.  Sidewalks (sort of).  Don't get me wrong, Jordan is not lined with suburban American sidewalks, perfectly maintained, bedecked with hopscotch outlines, a haven for jogging strollers and dog walkers.  However, they do exist, and there are times you can actually walk on them.  Granted, there are also times when trees are planted in the middle, or cars are parked on them, or the hills of Amman have caused the curbs to be almost 48" tall (completely blowing away Cairo's "buns of steel curbs" which I had thought were the highest), but as a mom with a stroller who loves to walk, I can say that they're sort of walkable.

7.  No red onions.  Maybe not earth-shattering, but strange, no?  We've looked in all grocery stores, from large chains to smaller shops, we've checked out the road-side veg sellers and the fruit and veg bodegas, and not a red onion to be found.  So sad.

8.  Prius, yes; Maserati, no.  This is such an amusing change from Kuwait, I can't tell you!  Not only have I seen one Prius, but I've seen several.  And while BMWs and Audis and all are seen, I've not seen one Bentley, Lamborghini, or Maserati.  Not passing judgement, just making an observation.

9.  Traffic and right-of-way.  Okay, this is still similar to Kuwait.  For whatever reason, and I don't know who started it, but Jordan, like Kuwait, has a bias against left turns.  Conversely, they love medians, the longer the better, u-turns and traffic circles.  Unfortunately, also like Kuwait, the concept of right-of-way, and priority given to already turning vehicles, remains foreign and untranslatable.  Hence, driving here is almost as frustrating as in Kuwait (though they don't reach the speeds of the yahoos in Kuwait, and seem to have a lower crash rate; interesting parallel).

20.  Western seepage.  I truly do wonder just how many places in the world there are left that remain untouched by greasy hands?  Jordan, like Kuwait, Dubai, Cairo, etc., is thoroughly doused in KFC, McDs, BK, Popeyes, Pizza Hut, Papa Johns, Starbucks, Caribou, etc.  And not to be outdone by fast food, there's also Ace Hardware, True Value, Bath & Body Works, and there's even an Ikea coming.  Progress or regress, you decide (though I do love a good Ikea).

So, for good or bad, this is not Kuwait and it's not Cairo, but it is home.  And home is what you make of it.  And as long as we plan accordingly, we should be able to survive three more years without making one left turn.

These Are a Few of my Favorite Things

I made the vow over a year ago that by the time I left Kuwait, I’d have found ten things to love about it. It’s been almost 20 months, and I’m delighted to say that I’ve done it! Now, I’m not promising that these are reasons to divert your flight to Bali for a ten-day-layover in Kuwait, but if you happen to be here, or are presented with the opportunity to live here, these might help pass the time.

1. No list of favorite things in Kuwait could be complete without saying “the mall.” Love it or hate it, you’ll find moments where you’re grateful for Ikea or Pottery Barn Kids or even The Cheesecake Factory. Not to mention just a comfortable clean place to avoid the scorching summer heat.

2. Parks & walking paths. Now, Kuwait’s parks can’t rival Yosemite or anything, but for what they are, and having no other options, I found myself very grateful for them. For eight to nine months of the year, the weather in Kuwait is basically perfect, making daily walks a lovely option.

3. Subsidized gas. Yeah, no surprise really, but the cheapest thing you can buy in Kuwait is gas. Too bad you can’t stock up.

4. Gulf walking. From approximately September through early May, one of my favorite things to do was walk along the Gulf. Bean and I would meet our friends and for two or three hours, we’d walk and gab and enjoy the waves and sea breezes while we clocked 6-8 miles. Granted, it wasn’t all peachy, we frequently had to dodge speeding motorcycles on the sidewalk who were too dumb to drive on the road, it was heartbreaking to see so much trash strewn on the beaches and in the water, there were men who would periodically hassle us, and in the end I had a friend who got mugged for her smart phone while walking with her baby. But if you remove all the people and the trash, it was truly lovely.

5. Drinking fountains. I love them; I love finding the unique ones hidden back in the neighborhoods. Granted, I’d never actually use one, but that doesn’t stop me from admiring them.

6. Flowers and landscaping. As a predominantly barren desert country, Kuwait has done a remarkable job spreading the greenery. They have a rather extensive desalination project, which allows for year-round trees and bushes and even flowers lining the highways. There’s a constant crew of gardeners trimming and raking and watering everywhere you turn. For someone coming from another desert country (i.e., Egypt) I found it remarkably green here. Granted, if you’re arriving from Ecuador, it’ll feel like you’ve been dropped into the middle of the Arabian desert; and you have been.

7. Gardening. For the first time in our adult lives, my husband and I attempted a vegetable garden. Granted, maybe Kuwait wasn’t the best spot to cultivate our green thumbs, but it wasn’t for want of effort, desire or even supplies. Might be a bit surprising, considering the lack of dirt, but there are tons of vegetable seeds and plants available here. When we went to purchase our seeds, we ended up going a little crazy and bought everything from watermelon to lettuce to broccoli to green beans to zucchini. We also tried growing garlic from cloves (completely unsuccessful) and bought an entire palette of tomato plants for less than $4. In the end, we managed to grow and consume about four cups of broccoli, five sad little zucchini, maybe 20 tomatoes and some strange white radishes, which was odd because they were practically the only seed we didn’t purchase.

8. Proximity to Oman. In a mere 90-minutes, you can be in wonderful glorious Oman. You can head for the mountains, explore the city, camp in the desert, or dive with the turtles. It’s all there and if we keep this hidden gem of the Middle East to ourselves, then it’ll remain as pristine as it is today.

9. Good little museums. Through all my wanderings, I will say that Kuwait has some really nice museums. None of them are so grand that you couldn’t explore them in a few hours, and yet they have some truly amazing exhibits. It’s a great way to spend a morning (but keep in mind that most shut between noon and 4pm, for whatever reason).

10. My last, but most important, reason for loving Kuwait is that it was my daughter’s first home and where I became a mother. So, for that reason alone, I will always appreciate what Kuwait gave me: lots of family time without the worries that I’m missing something fabulous out there.

Escape to Mutla Ridge… Well, Almost

If you check out “Lonely Planet: Oman, UAE & Arabian Peninsula,” you may be surprised to learn that the number 1 “spectacular Peninsula” landscape listed for all seven countries (Qatar, Bahrain, Oman, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, UAE, and Yemen) is Mutla Ridge in Kuwait! Of course, then you read on and you learn, “While not a particularly spectacular line of hills [umm… mild contradiction to their earlier claim], Mutla Ridge is about as good as it gets in Kuwait… [and] Although the land mines have been cleared, you should stick to the paths in case of explosive remnants.” Wow, sign me up!

Surprisingly, in spite of these claims, and further warnings from other friends regarding snakes and scorpions, I managed to convince my husband and our friends, Molly and Arthur, to make an excursion out into the wilds of Kuwait. I tried to downplay the whole landmine-snake-scorpion aspect and instead suggested we bring picnic stuff for car picnics (it will be 112 degrees out, as well) and with any luck it’ll be one of those wonderful clear Kuwait days where we’ll be able to perch at the top of Mutla Ridge (which incidentally is the highest point in Kuwait) and gaze down at the modernity of Kuwait City. Then, if we’re feeling particularly jaunty, we can continue north another hour to the border of Iraq before turning around and heading home. All in all, a fun little morning outing with hopeful camel spottings along the way.

So, at 9:00am, we packed up our two cars, our two toddlers, our snacks and drinks and cameras and headed off caravan-style! Twenty minutes into the drive, as we were passing the 360 Mall, the problem became quite apparent; visibility was dropping steadily. “This looks bad,” my husband said. “We’re heading directly into a sandstorm.” “Naw, we’ll be fine. A sandstorm is constantly moving, it’ll just pass right over us,” I said optimistically. “Um, yeah, they move, but they also cover entire countries as they do it.” Such a poop-head. Molly called to see what we were thinking. I explained my optimism versus my husband’s pessimism, but even as we were speaking visibility was getting worse; much, much worse. “I think we should turn around,” my husband said. “Fine.” (insert sulk) “We could head back to 360 Mall and get breakfast,” he added.

I suggested this to Molly who agreed it sounded like a saner plan. So, in the blinding sandstorm we turned around, and with Arthur taking the lead since he had his GPS up and running, he lead us safely to 360 Mall.

Well, we made our attempt, which counts for my bucket list. Since Molly and Arthur are here for another year, I suggested they try it again in the Fall and send us pictures.

So, in the end, I guess what they say is true; no matter how hard you try, all roads in Kuwait do lead to the mall.

Mirrors, Mirrors, on the Wall, and the Floor and the Sink and the Door

Tripadvisor.com has thirteen suggestions under “Things to do in Kuwait City.” The top four are not surprising, the aquarium, the Grand Mosque (though it’s currently closed for repairs, so we will not be seeing it), the Kuwait Towers (also closed for repairs, so not to be seen by us), and Tareq Rajab Museum of Islamic Arts (which we loved and you can read about it here: Gems & Germs: Exploring Kuwait’s Tourism Side). The fifth most recommended thing to do in Kuwait City is to visit the Mirror House; essentially go have tea with Ms. Lidia.

When someone says “The Mirror House,” maybe your head is filled with images of a Mad-Hatter, carnivalesque, Mrs.-Haversham-type residence. And you wouldn’t be far off. Ms. Lidia al-Qattan is the owner of and creative genius behind the Mirror House. She is the widow of Khalifa al-Qattan, a famous Kuwaiti artist. She has lived in Kuwait since the 1960s and throughout these last fifty years has turned her house into a showpiece like no other. The Mirror House is literally covered from top to toes, inside and outside, with intricate mirror mosaics that she has personally designed and created all on her own.

When friends and I went to visit her she welcomed us in like long-lost friends. But, like rude long-lost friends, I barely even noticed her as I was too busy gaping at everything around me. Even the outside wall surrounding her home is decorated in mosaics. There were mirror-mosaic butterflies and deer prancing around the inner courtyard. And if that wasn’t distracting enough, then we actually entered her home. Barely an ounce of floor or wall-space was left un-mirrored.

Everything glittered and shimmered with mirror bits. She had laid out cake and biscuits and juice for us, so we sat on the mirrored bench in front of the mirrored tables aligning the mirrored wall and tried to remember to blink as we soaked in the sights and listened to the history of the house. When she and her husband moved in to the house in the 1960s, they were the only one in the area. The Qadisiya neighborhood is now just as crowded as the rest of Kuwait City, with villas bumping up to villas. She studied nursing in London, but always had a penchant for art. And when her husband was away on a business trip once, she created a small mirrored-mosaic statue for him on a whim. And it sparked an interest that would last for the next fifty years.

She explained all about how she tried different bonding agents, finding some too rough, others too weak, and some that were too hard to keep clean, and finally settled on her current mixture. She told us the heart-breaking story of discovering termites in the walls and floors and having to rip out all her work to fix the problem. Not to be undeterred, however, she re-did all the mosaics, and added even more.

As the tour of the house started, she took us room by room, explaining the different themes present, the beginning of the world, the solar system, astrological signs, and everywhere there were animals present, from swans and eagles, to sting rays and dolphins, to camels and even a unicorn. I had brought my 14-month-old daughter along with us and she was quite mesmerized by all the sparkly bits. Lidia kept telling me to, “Let her go, let her explore,” which I did with great trepidation. Inevitably, Bean would gravitate with great eagerness to one of the many glowing spheres perched on stands and Lidia would laugh and say, “Oh, it won’t hurt her.” “Oh, I’m not concerned that it’ll hurt her,” I’d say, as I prevented her, yet again, from knocking some one-of-a-kind artwork to shatters on the ground. In hindsight, bringing a toddler to a “mirror house” might have been a dumb move.

Lidia loved telling us the stories that inspired her for each room, and we would dutifully sit on the cushions, perched on the mirrored banquets and listen. And in many rooms there were added light features, so she’d turn off the lights and the solar system would light up, or the paintings would flicker on. Going from room to room was like visiting a string of mini planetariums, without all the fussy facts.

I think I was most fascinated by the bathroom, in which every inch was covered by mirrors; from the sink, to the shower stall, to the trash can, light switch, radiator cover, and even toilet brush holder. Nothing was left un-mirrored. And if you stood in the middle of the room, the walls and floor almost became two dimensional, losing all sense of depth. Might be a little too much to deal with early in the morning.

Upstairs there were a few rooms displaying Mr. al-Qattan’s paintings as well as Lidia’s other artistic endeavors. One room was covered in industrial carpet that she’d painted and for thirty minutes she kept us there throwing velcro’d papier-mâché tiles at the wall and kept saying, “No, they're not in a line,” or “Nope, not facing up,” and then she’d hand them back to us and we’d throw them again. Despite our appalling lack of papier-mâché-tile throwing ability, she finally let us out, but not without a slight sign of disappointment, I’m sure. For over an hour, Lidia opened her home to us and shared her stories and her amazing creations and endless visions. We felt so welcome. It was like visiting a favorite aunt; you wanted to stay for days (but maybe not with a toddler).

As we left, we bid her farewell, and thanked her repeatedly for her gracious hospitality. It was absolutely one of the most delightful outings we’ve had in Kuwait. So, now I think it’s time I jot off a quick note to tripadvisor.com and inform them that they need to seriously revise their ranking of “Things to do in Kuwait.” Without question, having tea with Ms. Lidia should be number one.

So, for anyone who finds themselves in Kuwait and is looking to visit Ms. Lidia, it’s requested that you call ahead (+965-22518522) to make an appointment; this is her home, after all. At the end of the tour, which can easily last over an hour, she asks for a small donation (2kd on weekdays, 3kd on weekends). And bring a token of your appreciation, dates or cookies or something you’ve made. Believe me, at the end you will wish you’ve given her more.

Hope Springs Eternal… Even in Underwhelming Kuwait

Lately, I find myself wondering whether Alexander Pope ever visited Kuwait. Cursory research suggests no, but then again practical experience suggests maybe there was just nothing to write home about, hence “Hope springs eternal in the human breast [and Kuwait]”.

As I’m slowly narrowing down my Kuwait bucket list, with each check mark I routinely am faced with the same thought, “Welcome to Kuwait, Prepare to Be Underwhelmed.” But, I am trying desperately to not become one of those short-timer expats who only sees the negative in the life they’re leaving; but admittedly Kuwait sometimes doesn’t help matters. Regardless, with each week, I diligently plod through my bucket list, plan my route using Google maps, grab my camera, the baby and my gigantic satchel of hope, and head out.

Our latest adventure started solely as a find-the-fountain excursion. I’d read that there was a dancing musical fountain with “… traditional dancing and light shows; open daily 6:00am to 11:00pm”. How have we missed this? Seventeen hours a day of a dancing musical fountain? It must be found!

Then, when searching it out on Google maps, I saw it was between the ice rink, which we’ve never visited and a huge swath of green called Green Belt Garden. Sounds lovely! I was quite excited about the day’s outing; I could barely squeeze my satchel of hope in the car.

Without too much effort (meaning annoying u-turns that take you miles out of your way because of living in no-left-turn-land), we came upon the ice rink. I will admit that there are very few ice rinks around the world that look impressive from the outside. So the fact that Kuwait has an active ice rink at all is rather impressive in and of itself. We didn’t bother to go in, but dutifully admired it as we drove past on our way to the dancing fountain.

For a land that hates to label things, like roads and turn-offs, I was actually a little surprised to see this little park well-labeled. I was equally surprised to see that it was gated, fully locked and appeared to be packed up for the season with tables and chairs stacked and not an ounce of water or musical note to be found. As I sat there in the car, debating whether to even see if there were hours posted, I could feel my satchel of hope shrinking. But, hope springs eternal, not just when convenient, so we re-inflated our satchel, and headed off to see the glorious Green Belt Garden.

In all honesty, I’m not sure we ever found it, but considering the map and the proximity to the dormant fountains and the large enclosed area surrounded by a wall stating “Al Shaheed Park”, I’m thinking that we were successful; in finding it, not in actually seeing it. I did follow another car into what I thought was the entrance to the park, but instantly found myself in a construction zone with a guy standing in front of me with a look like, “Hey, lady, whatcha think you’z doin’?” (I’m, of course, assuming that all construction men speak like a stereotype from Queens, even in Kuwait.) I waved my hand as if to answer back, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m turning around” (it was a wordy wave), and scuttled out.

So, with my completely deflated satchel of hope, I returned home and had to share my underwhelm-ment with my husband that night. With every attempted bucket-sighting, and my inevitable moans of disappointment, my husband always looks at me and says (with a little sigh, like he’s speaking to a child who keeps smacking themselves in the face), “Why don’t you just stay home and read a book?” Maybe he’s right. I have a feeling that Mr. Pope might concur. But then again, I heard that there’s something called The Mirror House that just might be worth a check. Come on Mr. Pope, load up that satchel and let’s get moving!