Doesn't exist.

In certain parts of the Middle East (Saudi Arabia, Kuwait) marriages are still "arranged." This may seem perfectly normal to some, but to me this is outrageous. I am a woman who loves completely, and dedicates myself to the well being of the person I am with, and I expect the same from them. However, in this part of the world either their love runs much deeper, or it doesn't exist at all. I haven't figured it out yet.

Some of my male friends have told me about their girlfriends, the love they have for them, the respect, etc. And then 2 minutes later they tell me their girlfriend is married, or is getting ready to get married. Or that she was married 2 days ago. Yes, they continue to sneak around and see one another maybe once a month or so, but there are many other women in between. Is this really love? Or is it the deepest of love?

My boyfriend is the only one of the little "desert posse" who has an American girlfriend, so he doesn't have to worry about waking up tomorrow to find out I am now a married woman. He doesn't have to deal with the idea my mother would control my life. Or that I would only be allowed to see him once a week, or less. He has a woman who is free to use her mind, to live her life, and to make her own decisions based upon what she wants.

Unfortunately he is too blind to see just how good he has it.

This morning I went to visit a friend in the hospital -- he had been involved in a silly incident in the desert, which fortunately turned out to be small. The saddest part of this is that he was probably safer being run over in the desert than he is getting medical care from the facility he is in.

In America we have very strict laws and rules which govern our medical care, and it's demanded that things are clean and sterile. However, in the hospital (I use that term loosely) that I was in today nothing was clean or sterile. I mean NOTHING. There was writing on the walls in the patient's room, cigarette smoking (to include the patient) was perfectly acceptable, and there was no proper ventilation other than to open a window to let the smoke air out. Needless to say there was no Doctor or Nurse anywhere in sight. There was no sign of an IV or medicine, or even Oxygen valves.

So, by the time I returned to my little life away from the "hospital" I felt sick. I not only had tears in my eyes and a heart filled with depression, but I truly feel like I have a flu or a virus. I have spent my day in the bed, and can foresee me taking a trip to the hospital as well....just rest assured it won't be that one.

The fact that people...regardless of their income, social status, or anything else, are provided such substandard medical anywhere in the world is just simply pathetic. I am appalled that in a country as "modern" as Kuwait, people are being medically cared for in something I would compare to hell.

God help them all.

Where is the happy medium? Is it possible to stand so firm on certain issues, but sway for personal interest? Is it wrong to want something that costs nothing, and be angry when we don't get it? And is it wrong to think about something that we probably shouldn't want at all?

There are some things an American girl just can't live without -- and Starbucks is one of them.

On occassion I will spend my evenings and nights in the desert at the "camp." Inside it's so warm because of the fire. I get wrapped up like a shawarma and kept so cozy and safe all night long though I am experiencing something probably no other American woman is, in a place that's actually quite cold during the night hours.

However, once the sun rises and my eyes open, the first thing I want is Starbucks. Let me assure you there is no Starbucks even close to the desert. But, Kuwait is such a small country you can drive from one end of it to the other in less than 2 hours, so driving 30 minutes to get my Starbucks doesn't seem to be a major issue for anyone. Especially when I remind him how important it is for me to be "American." I suppose after covering me with camel hair blankets all night, he accepts that there's a part of me which will never change.

So, for now, we'll continue our journey from the desert to Starbucks.

Venti ice mocha no whip, please!