Sometimes I have the urge to write, but it's generally those times I don't have a topic. Imagine that. So I ask my friend/co-worker/colleague/accountant what I should write about today -- and she pops out with 'ankle bracelets'. No clue why, or even where this idea came from. My reply was, "Preferably something about the state of Kuwait!" She then says, "Ankle bracelets in Kuwait?" Good thing I'm the writer in this duo!

Last night I was talking to The Pianist while he was at work for a while. Part of his job it to take phone calls, answer questions, and assist people when they need it. Obviously his entire conversations are in Arabic, and well, my Arabic is far from conversational level. So I listen. As I've mentioned before I have a little crazy mind thing going on, but this is accepted by my friends, and sometimes even embraced. The Pianist takes a call, seems to be discussing business, but then I suddenly hear what I believe to be 'chicken dinner' and 'Hawalli'. Enter crazy girl. Though he was forewarned. He finds it rather funny that I think he's going to Hawalli to have a chicken dinner with a customer -- and perhaps it was a bit ridiculous, and more importantly, not even my business. But my point is, don't be making chicken plans with me in your ear. See how easy? I believe we've established my Arabic sucks.

Speaking of 'easy' my collegue has decided we now need an "Easy Button" in our office. For any of you from America you will probably know what I'm referring to... Staples? Easy Button? "That was easy!" I think I'm going to strategically place one on her headboard without her knowledge one day.
 
Ever get the business card flirt? OK, maybe it's just me but when a man attempts to be all flirty and give me his number, I find it very rude to hand me a business card. Are we doing business together? I mean, if this was a business meeting, perhaps I should have been prepared with presentations, and proposals. I'm not impressed by "General Manager" or "Senior Researcher". I would be much more impressed if you found me intriguing enough to take the time to either verbally, or in your own writing provide me with your number after I expressed the same level of interest. Sliding your business card across the table at Starbucks doesn't show me anything other than how impressed you are with yourself. Sure, accomplishing something in your career is a great thing, and something to take pride in. But if you're at the point in your life where you feel your job, your bank account, or your car registration are required to meet a woman -- then you're definitely not my type. Intelligence and class are mandatory. Not this pretend-a-classy thing either. Just because you know how to wear cuff links doesn't mean you have class. This requires self respect, self assurance, and a hint of arrogance. Show up at Starbucks and slide all that across the table -- then you have a shot.

It's going to be a long weekend, which is great. I was considering a short trip to somewhere in the Middle East for a few days -- unfortunately a few large tasks at work may require my attention during my days off. I don't want to get too far out of reach. Maybe next time. I'll need to do a little more research to determine where I want to go for certain. I am contemplating Jordan, Iran, or maybe even as far over as Uzbekistan. Not interested in 5 star hotels and fine dining... but instead the place which offers the most culture and local theme. No interest in being a tourist regardless of where I am visiting.

Still recovering from the jet-lag. It's just so much more difficult returning to this side of the world than it is going to the other. But I believe I've done fairly well this time.

The weekend here in Kuwait is Friday and Saturday -- meaning Thursday and Friday nights are the most traffic, and insanity. I live right on the sea, in the midst of all the 'men chasing women' antics, and I have to say -- it's rather disheartening. As much as I love where I live, I believe I loved Kuwait more before moving there. Now it's as if all the silly, small minded, childlike behavior is right in my face. Then again, I am a bit of all the aforementioned myself. Oh well.

Since I had just arrived back in the country on Wednesday I decided I would relax for a day before getting back into my routine and social life. By Friday night I felt well rested and ready to venture out. I had to run over to the airport to pay a bill, knew I would want Starbucks, and figured dinner somewhere would be a good idea also. So I called a friend of mine and asked if she wanted to ride along to keep me company. It's always much easier having more than one woman in the car on a weekend -- this way you can look at one another and pretend to be having a conversation instead of just outright ignoring the man in the car next to you who is desperately trying to get attention.

Traffic wasn't as bad as I thought, and it also seemed the more appealing men had been held captive in some strange land, but were definitely not out and about. Not looking for anyone -- but it's never harmful to a girl's ego to have some near perfect man glance in her direction every now and then. Once we arrived at the airport I realized why traffic wasn't that bad -- they were all parked at the airport. I drove around the parking garage three times before finally settling on a handicap spot. Please know I never do this. Really, this is so bad to me, and I just don't do it. But I knew I was running in to pay a bill, and getting right out. Had I been in there for more than 10 minutes I would have never parked in this spot. Is my guilt obvious?

We leave the airport and head back down into Salmiya. Though the American restaurants are rarely appealing to me, I was craving the Applebees Fiesta Lime Chicken. For the past few months I've been on this healthy food kick where throwing garbage down my throat isn't the least bit appealing. However, this Fiesta Lime Chicken sometimes starts screaming my name and I indulge. Regretfully so. Fortunately Applebees wasn't too crowded either -- we were seated right away, and other than the Michael Jackson music blaring at nightclub level, it was exactly what I wanted. My friend and the cute hather guy seated in the booth next to us seemed to have a little eye contact thing going on, while all I got a view of were six young hather boys sitting in the booth behind her with their arms around one another. Guys, regardless of how absolutely adorable you can be -- sitting with your arm around another man at dinner is just outright unappealing. Capish?

While out and about I generally get a few calls from my local friends asking where I am, what I am doing, when I expect to be home, am I alone, etc. This is standard Kuwaiti man behavior -- even amongst friends. This is in no way an attempt to control or manipulate anyone. Not one of them demanded I rush back home or never leave the house again. However, their calls seem to disturb my friend. Not the fact that I answer my phone during dinner (which is very rude, I know). But the fact that my friends call to check my status. I take comfort in knowing I have a phone full of numbers I could call at any given time of the day or night should I need anything at all. And I take comfort in the fact they care and respect me enough to check on me. My friend, on the other hand (American female), seemed to think a heated debate about my friends was required. Why? I am not really sure. Though I can assure you her behavior is the reason she is never introduced to my 'other' friends. Perhaps it's her lack of desire to understand their culture, or just a hatred for all Kuwaiti men -- I don't know, and I rarely spend time trying to analyze it. I do know debating my personal life isn't an option. Period.

Other than a rather uneventful weekend not much has been going on since my return. The Pianist did stop by after work last night and had a quick dinner. I cooked, and it's always my pleasure to feed people. Not to mention, the day I returned to Kuwait he was kind enough to bring me a case of water, and a case of Diet Pepsi upon request. I feel so bad because I hate for him to go out of his way after work, but he has no idea how appreciated the small gestures are. Really, anything to keep me from having to carry cases of liquid! Yeah, I am totally spoiled, I know. Blah! In addition to my liquid energy, he also provides me with the most amazing piano playing I have ever heard. I am completely mesmerized by his talent. My goal is to get him to quit his current job, fore-go sleep, and play the piano for me 24 hours a day. The thought of the view, the coffee, and the live musician is so incredibly appealing.

Tonight I believe I'm going to try to get together with the Officer (his rank in the Kuwaiti armed forces) for coffee or something. We have a little deal going about a mutual favor we're doing for one another, and I am interested to see which one of us completes the task first. I absolutely adore this guy, and consider him to be one of my best friends in Kuwait. Now if I could just find him a suitable woman. But really, she has to be amazing. I have considered a few different women I know -- hoping I could introduce him to someone really cool, but they turn out to be majnoona and I would never insult him by sticking him with some crazy chick. I mean, he's kinda stuck with me, and he has no problem accepting my crazy, but we all need some level of crazy in our lives. But I'm enough for any one person -- he doesn't need more than me! That being said, the girlfriend should be sane. The Pianist is also rather accepting of my crazy -- and I have to say, it's rather refreshing knowing I can be crazy and adored at the same time. Thank you!

Ground breaking starts on the house this week. My family and I are so excited and I can't wait to see the finished product. My builder sent me an email this morning asking if I wanted to add a full front porch and stone enhancement to the front for a very reduced rate, and in turn they will reduce my interest rate by .5%. In turn reducing the pay off on the home, and the mortgage (by a tiny tiny amount). Sounded appealing so I agreed. So far during this building process I've been incredibly well behaved and shown a great deal of will power when it came to upgrades and details. Any construction upgrades (corner fireplace, trey ceilings, additional bathrooms, or room conversions) were obviously chosen now, as these would be so much more costly in the long run. But cosmetic things (chair rail, crown molding, etc) are options I chose to do without. My father knows enough contractors to get these things done at a much better price than the builder was offering, and I think it will be more fun to do these things at my pace, until I get the home exactly the way I want it. In the end this has been a much easier process than I first expected. Almost too easy. I suppose the best thing to come from the failing economy is the reduced price of homes and new developments.

Arrived back in Kuwait a couple of days ago and have since been struggling to get my sleep back on Arab Standard Time.

Fortunately we live in a world where most of us have choices. Well, even people in countries where choices don't seem as evident as they do in other countries get to make personal choices. We make them daily. Some good, some bad, and well, some just not important at all. We're always going to make mistakes as that's just part of being human. Unfortunately we don't get to choose to always make the right choice.

So, I'm watching Bill O'Reilly which somehow ties into my topic of 'choices' though I'm not exactly sure how I'll express it just yet. Thanks to Orbit in Kuwait I get to watch this nonsense there too. Just first thing in the morning, and not at night. What a lovely way to start the day -- with a completely closed minded imbecile. Yeah, I know, this is where I have the choice to turn off the television. Call it my 'train wreck' -- I can't stop watching. Perhaps he has so many viewers because we're all wondering how it's possible this man is still on television? Or for sheer entertainment value. I mean, stupidity can be funny. Tonight he's beating the dead horse of Iran. Yeah, sad situation, very unfortunate, however not necessarily our business. Of course he moves right into the topic of the late term abortion doctor who was murdered (Tiller). He goes on and on about 'Human Rights'. Maybe someone should send Billy Boy a copy of the Human Rights so he could see it applies to humans! Sure, an 8 month old fetus could be considered human, but until it's living on its own, I am pretty sure the same rights don't apply. This is in no way to state I support late term abortions, but it's also not my place to run around pointing fingers at people who make that choice. Furthermore -- who appointed him to be the 'watcher of people'? This man's every other sentence is "I have a duty to watch out for you all." Um, no -- he doesn't. And the day it really is his duty... I'm relocating.

The past couple of days have been really interesting -- I've run into some people I haven't talked to in years. I am elated by this fact as these women were very dear to me, and unfortunately we lost touch. One was in Kuwait with me years ago, the other is still there. I won't get to visit with one while here in the states, but I'll definitely be hanging with the other when I return to Kuwait. I always have that 'I miss Kuwait' feeling when I come to the states, but then of course I have the 'I miss America' when I get back there. Why can't I just combine all the great things in both places and carry them around with me at all times?! Yeah, then that thing called reality kicks in.

Moving right along...

I've been trying to access the ArabTimesOnline.comwhile being here in America since this is my daily entertainment. It's the local Kuwait newspaper in English, online. This is the same newspaper I have complained that gives me a portion of the story, then I have to call friends to get the 'real deal.' Either way, I enjoy the 'spin' factor.

Anyone who knows me knows my love for animals, and interest in animal rights. But really, PETA? What's up with the outrage over the fly? This isn't an animal, it's an insect. And a rather dirty one at that. The country is falling apart around us (no fault of President Obama), and now he's being judged for killing a fly? Don't we have more important issues to concern ourselves with? How about a greater interest in American families losing their homes and having to give up life-long pets? And the extreme over population of local shelters all over the country because of this?

Blah, blah, blah.

Yesterday I go to my home design store to make the final decisions on the details, colors, and upgrades for the home I'm having built. Afternoon appointment, daylight with a little drizzle going on outside, and a fantastic parking place right in front of the door. My appointment was brief as I had already had the initial last week and made all of my choices -- all I did yesterday was add an island in the kitchen with some overhead lighting. Simple enough.

Twenty minutes later I come outside to discover someone had scratched up the entire side of my car, and took the time to write words into it. They also made sure to take the time to make a scratch on the hood, as well as the roof by the sunroof. How very 'classy' of them. I was not in the depths of hell, or the ghetto. I was in a fairly new shopping and housing development (not even close to where my home is being built,, thank God!). However, this is not an area known for crime, or even 'thugs' to frequent. A woman parked next to me commented on how I left my expensive sunglasses in plain view on the console, and how brave I was for doing so. Huh? Sunglasses? Could this and a few bags in the backseat have prompted this nonsense?

I started to wonder if the kitchen island wasn't such a great idea after-all.

Of course I call the police as I have to have a report to get my insurance to pay for a paint job. The woman from the home design center was certain there were security cameras in the parking lot, and like I said, it was daytime! There were also two very clear hand-prints on my car where this person took the time to leverage themselves while doing this damage. The police acted as though I was calling them for a cat stuck in my tree. Or perhaps that would have been more interesting to them. No fingerprints, no reviewing of cameras, nothing -- just an over the phone report. Yes, I know, it was just some scratches and not attempted murder. But it was a crime! Are they trying to tell me that vandalism is acceptable behavior? I pay my taxes here in America. I deserve to have the protection I want, no? I recall once in Kuwait one of our company vehicles had all the windows busted out of it and I had to file a police report in Jahra. I took a bedu Kuwaiti friend of mine for translation and 'shlonak' purposes, did an initial report, went over to the CID, had fingerprints done, and then got the offer of, "Want us to go find them and kick their ass?" Not that I feel this is the answer to solve problems, but this is definitely the typical 'protection' women can expect in Kuwait. Especially in Jahra. Fortunately I have a very low deductible on vandalism on my current insurance policy, however, I now get to spend a day of vacation getting estimates, then dropping off the car, and not expecting it to be finished for 2-3 days. How fun. I would love to meet the mother of the trash responsible for this. I'm certain we would have soooo much in common -- not! Furthermore -- my car is Black Onyx, so the scratches are quite evident.

Enough venting for the day I suppose.

I hear there was a really bad sandstorm in Kuwait yesterday. This leads me to believe my apartment is going to need a really good cleaning before I can go home and fall out in the bed once I return. More than anything I hate 'crumbs' in the bed. Well, almost as much as I hate someone leaving wet towels on my bed. These are my true pet peeves. Ew ew ew! I change my sheets more often than the regular person to ensure there's no 'sandy' feeling. I cringe at the thought of my bed right now. I can just envision little dust particles settling within the sheets, waiting for my arrival, assuming I'm going to forget all about them. Not a chance!

Since I've been back to America it's been raining almost daily. I really love this, but the level of humidity is killing me.

It's not working.

When you're away from something for a while and then return, things are much clearer. We hear often about the failing economy in America, though living in Kuwait I don't experience it firsthand. However, this trip back not only do I experience it and see it, but I have figured out the solution. Yeah, I know -- I have allll  the answers. Blah.

1. Upper class Americans do well. Sure they took a hit with the stock market crash, but nothing they didn't recoup in a short amount of time. And we certainly didn't hear about any Kennedy's going into foreclosure and/or bankruptcy.

2. Lower class Americans do well. Yeah, their standard of living is much lower than what some would consider 'comfortable' but they're used to it. This is their way of life, and they find comfort here. Some want to do better and move on to a different lifestyle, but the majority are perfectly happy. They receive free or discounted housing, food allowance, free diapers, baby formula, and even cash based on the number of children they have. Do a little 'business' on the side, and voila -- Life is good in their world.

3. Middle class -- these are the people who are educated, but are now overwhelmed with extensive student loans. They work and always have, but are now finding themselves the victims of 'downsizing.' Own homes, but are now facing foreclosure. And have always been a productive member of society. These are the ones really suffering.

We allow people into our country to work, study, and live as if it's nothing. Why? Don't we value what we have more than to just give it away?

We provide student loans paid for with our taxes to people all over the world.

We guarantee minimum wage to anyone here working on a work visa.

We give these people the same welfare benefits as a natural born US citizen. Again, paid for with our tax dollars.

Sounds so lovely, so nice, and so politically correct doesn't it? Sounds like nonsense to me.

In Kuwait citizens are well cared for. They receive a salary, free education, and even a salary for attending university. They are given additional salary as their family grows. And a housing benefit to ensure they'll always have a home. Once they complete university, they're given a job. These 'perks' encourage people to want to better their lives because they know their government will provide them all the basic needs to live comfortably.

Sure, Kuwait has oil. And we don't?

America has basically every natural resource, as well as every form of technology known to man. Yet we're so busy outsourcing it to other countries that we're cheating our own citizens of benefiting from this. Why is it when I call my credit card company I speak to a man in India? This is a perfectly good job that an American would gladly accept. Especially if it prevented his home from going into foreclosure.

Furthermore -- if you enter Kuwait to work you are not paid a 'minimum wage' nor are you paid what a Kuwaiti citizen would be paid. After-all, you're in their country working, not your own. Additionally, get pregnant and have a baby in Kuwait -- this child is a citizen of your country (since you are too). Not of Kuwait.

That being said, why are we allowing people to come to America, benefit from our tax dollars, give them salaries which make them 'rich' in their own country, and give every child they happen to pop out a blue passport? Why not prosecute these people as felons and ban them from ever having the right to US citizenship (regardless of who they marry)? Or even entering America again?

Something tells me in 20 years I'll be wishing I had invested in real estate in Mexico -- since that's going to be the richest country in the world. Oh but wait -- bet they won't give me a job.

Perhaps I sound cold, and cruel. Or perhaps I am just an American citizen who is tired of working and watching other reap the benefits of my tax dollars.

AmericanGirlinKuwait for President -- 2012.

One of the first things I do when I return to the states is pull out the old photo albums (long before digital cameras -- yeah, I am that old, blah!), and baby books. I love to look back at how my children have grown and become such wonderful young men. My kids have never really been into this, but have since become much more accepting of my silly obsession.

This time was slightly different...

I get them to bring the books to me since they're muuuuch taller than me and I can't reach them, we all sit down together, I open them and start pointing out their pictures in the hospital at birth, infant, toddler, etc. And then there it is, staring me right in my face, the most shocking thing I have ever seen in my life!! Me. Yes, me. Was that really me?! I looked the same age my children are now. I was a baby. I immediately run into the bathroom to look into the mirror and compare this tragic event some refer to as aging, and well, yes... I have aged. Granted I have done fairly well in this process, but it's clear I am not 21 anymore. Sure I may act like it, but I am just not 21 anymore. Why is it we have the ability to change so much about our lives (education, career, home, location, level of success on a personal level, etc.) but this age thing is just not ours? How is any of this fair?

This brings me to tomorrow's agenda -- checking into cosmetic surgery. Not sure when (or if) I am ready to go down this road yet, but a little Botox can't hurt. I'm already addicted to Microdermabrasion, facials, etc. But after seeing the youthful me yesterday I have decided I need that again. No idea if this is even possible, but if it is, I will find it.

Other than the age crisis I have experienced, things here in America are lovely. It's been warm and sunny every day, thunderstorms and rain every night. This is fairly typical considering the level of humidity. I totally forgot about all the humidity, but my hair has quickly reminded me. In Kuwait I go to extremes to keep my hair shiny, and healthy with a normal level of moisture because it's so dry there. Here... wow. I wasn't aware my hair was quite so healthy.

Also, our gym here is just amazing. I woke my son up at 5am this morning (yeah, still jet lagging over here) to go to the gym with me. Of course it's not segregated, men and women work out together, swim together, etc. Also, it's not like a beauty contest. We all crawl out of bed, pull our hair up, throw on the work out attire, and head to the gym. In Kuwait I almost wonder if a trip to the salon is a prerequisite to the gym. I have never seen so much makeup and glitter in a gym as I have in Kuwait. If you're looking for hot women in Kuwait, wait outside the woman's gym. In America, park as far away from it as you can. We're not in a competition to see who can be the most beautiful to work out. Working out is supposed to make us more healthy, feel better, and in turn, more beautiful. Not the other way around.

This also goes for a trip to the supermarket. In Kuwait I would never just crawl out of bed, throw on the sweats, and pull my hair up to go to the store for some milk. This could result in being arrested for failure to prepare yourself for shopping. OK, not really, but you certainly stand out. I was in the supermarket in Salmiya a few weeks before I left and saw this gorgeous guy (aren't they all?) standing in line with this woman. It had to be before 7am as that's generally when I do my shopping. Either he had purchased her the night before and she hadn't washed her face, or they woke up at 4:30am to prepare for the trip to Sultan Center. Because of her appearance I assumed she was Lebanese or Syrian (no offense!), but the amount of makeup, glitter, fake eyelashes, fake hair, and heels this woman had on to purchase some eggs was just outrageous. Of course she was absolutely gorgeous, and I suppose if I looked like her I would dress up like a rodeo clown for attention as well (or not), but it's really not too good for my ego. However, I do take a sense of pleasure in knowing when she washes her face she probably resembles my ex-husband, so ha!

Yeah, I am shallow today.

Day and Nighttttt.

The Pianist's toothbrush and I have safely arrived to America. But I started to wonder at one point if that was actually going to happen.

Left Salmiya last night (Monday) only to discover traffic which resembled Liberation Day on Arabian Gulf. It was craaaazy! On the way to the airport it seemed every 'Big Ass Tahoe' wanted to run me off the road. Where was the fire? Wasn't I the one going to the airport? Or were they all late for their flight as well? Yeah, craaaazy!

The flight itself was fairly uneventful other than a Steward who made me embarrassed to be American. I take the United direct flight from Kuwait to DC, so about 90% of the people on this flight are also Americans... however, they do have Arabic speaking Stewards(ess) also. I was in Business Class (1st is just insanely overpriced and waaay more than I can spend on a ticket), and in front of me was this lovely Iraqi woman with her absolutely gorgeous daughter who appeared to be about 12 or 13 years old. With them was a baby approximately a year, a toddler about 3, and fraternale (male and female) twins who suffered severe physical deformities. Her husband was sitting in Economy, and they would take turns (with the assistance of the older daughter) caring for all the young children. My first instinct was "Uh oh, this is going to be dreadful" assuming we were going to have a number of screaming kids running up and down the isles. It was just the opposite actually, and these children were simply a pleasure. The entire family was very calm, pleasant, and could only communicate in English through their oldest daughter who translated. I only got a portion of the story, but it seems a US volunteer organization went into Baghdad, and arranged for this entire family to travel to America in hopes of getting proper medical care for the twins. This family has never been outside of Iraq, and certainly never to the states. It was beautiful to watch the mother and daughter peer out the window as we landed in DC. Unfortunately, during the flight, our Steward treated them as though they had no business even being on the flight. At one point the mother asked if breakfast was being served with eggs (though she could only say "eggs? eggs? eggs?"), but it was clear what she wanted to know. He looked at her, didn't respond, and continued to serve bread. They were the isle in front of me, so when he stepped back to me I said, "I believe she wanted to know if there are eggs with breakfast." His reply to me was, "Yeah, I heard her, but she's not going to understand me if I answer, so she'll figure it out when the eggs show up." And he smirked like it was funny. I then told the woman the eggs were coming. I also asked the Steward if there was Arabic speaking assistance on the plane and he said, "Uh huh, but he's busy with other people." As if this family wasn't worthy of his services? Whaaaaaaaat?

I am a firm believer when I travel I am a representative of my country. I would absolutely never be in Kuwait and behave like an animal, or people who are unfamiliar with Americans, but encounter me would say, "Americans are animals." Many of my Kuwaiti friends feel the same when they travel. They represent their country in the same manner. In my opinion this Steward did a very poor job of being the 1st impression and a representative for my country. He was rude, impatient, and lacked basic social skills. The passengers sitting in close proximity to this family treated them with more kindness and compassion.

Finally landed in DC in the middle of a thunderstorm which kept us held up on the runway for almost an additional hour. We were early, so my stress level was low. Made it through customs, baggage re-check, etc. with ease. And to my final destination within hours.

So, I have spent my day doing way too much, and have decided it's finally time to get some sleep. Perhaps I'll be adjusted to EST tomorrow and the jet lag will have subsided.

I miss the music of Kuwait.

As of tomorrow I will be in America for a few weeks. Therefore, should I update my blog it will be about my life there... since this really is all about me. Remember, this is myyyyy therapy!

Green grass which grows without human manipulation, rain that smells like water not masked with dirt, and a truly cool breeze blowing through trees which weren't shipped in from other countries and strategically placed for appearance. Yeah, America -- soooo real.

As some of you know (those of you who must be incredibly bored with waaaaay too much time on your hands who find yourself gravitating towards this blog) I rarely discuss details of my personal life, family, friends, etc. Everyone gets a nickname, and experiences are cleverly disguised to ensure anonymity. The same applies in the states. Details will be limited, and any behavior which could be viewed as unethical, unprofessional, or just outright wrong will not be discussed in the 1st person. It's my blog -- I can blame it all on someone else. Go me! Of course there are those of you who know me personally -- and, well -- some things are more difficult to edit and alter at that level.

I wanna go shopping.

OK, all that babbling really resulted in nothing -- however, I will post pictures of 'the real world' as soon as I have the opportunity.

Maasalama, Kuwait!

---

There are many things I love about Kuwait -- desert (we know is one of my favorites), the sea, Jahra (ana majnoona), the culture, the people, and my morning Starbucks. However, in the past few weeks there's a new passion. No, I'm not referring to the 'big ass Tahoe's.'

The Pianist.

First and foremost I love music. My music tastes vary from one extreme to the next really depending on the day, the mood, the weather, and the coffee I'm drinking. However, the love of music is always prevalent. At least once a week I pop in my Branford CD (uh huh, remember we went over this the other day?), and I drive from one end of Kuwait to the other. It's always very early in the morning, I'm virtually the only vehicle on the road, and Kuwait is mine. There aren't words to describe the level of serenity this brings to my sometimes stressful life.

How does 'The Pianist' play a role in all this? He brings that same level of serenity. Personal details about him aren't necessary -- other than the fact he's one of the most talented men I've ever encountered. Musically talented of course.

Though I have had a great love for music for as long as I can remember, I have absolutely zero musical inclination. Reading music is like reading Arabic to me -- not going to happen. I believe I was in 6th or 7th grade when I decided I wanted to play an instrument (it was determined years prior that singing wasn't my forte' -- no really, I could send small children running in the opposite direction screaming). So, it was the flute. I had decided I wanted to play the flute. It appeared simple enough, and seemed as though it was something I could easily grasp. OK, long story short -- I learned to play Mary Had a Little Lamb (which I can still play on a touch tone telephone to this day), and that was the extent of my flute playing. We moved into the more advanced portion of music (Jingle Bells), added a note (I had mastered B, A, and D), and I was finished.

The Pianist, on the other hand, doesn't play notes. Nor does he play music. He creates it. I don't have words to explain it as it's just emotion. I could listen to him play for hours and it makes me the happiest woman in Kuwait. When he plays it's like raw emotion, and perhaps I'm the only person who feels this. I don't think for a moment he understands his level of talent, though obviously he feels a similar level of passion -- since he's the one playing. Brilliant is an understatement, and amazing in an insult. When he plays it's not to be heard, but it's felt. I don't listen to him play, but I feel every single second of it. He plays, I cry.

Additionally -- The Pianist is an amazing person, with such a white heart. He's kind, respectful, and seems to know what's best for me. More than I do. Trusting isn't something I do easily, but with him it was almost instant. Friends... really, just friends. But someone I am truly thankful I have encountered. Eh, he's not perfect. He claims I'm crazy, when in fact I think he is. However, he is very mature and sometimes makes me seem very childlike and much less mature. I'm a woman, I'm allowed this behavior occasionally (Note: Favorite excuse in Kuwait -- I am a woman).

So, time to leave Kuwait and head back to the states in a few hours. I am looking so forward to this much needed vacation and have several plans which I expect to keep me busy for the duration. Of course there's also much I'll miss about Kuwait -- such as The Pianist and the passion he creates while playing music... with the piano.

Generally we buy a vehicle for transportation purposes. To get us from point A to point B in a reasonable, and safe manner. Preferably with a sense of comfort and reliability, and good gas mileage doesn't hurt either. Some of us prefer more luxury than others. And some prefer something more economical. In some sense, our vehicles are a slight expression of who we are, our income, the type of occupation or life we may live. But that's about it.

In Kuwait, with the younger men especially, a vehicle defines them completely. On the weekend you can drive down the road, look at the cars, and determine exactly who is behind the wheel. Gender, age, social status, income, occupation, education, personality traits, etc. As crazy as it seems -- it's quite accurate.

I was at the gas station in Messila with a friend Friday night -- a gorgeous black Corvette pulls up next to us. Two young Kuwaiti men are in it, but it's not a convertible, so we can only see heads. It had enough 'bling' on it to convince us it wasn't a rental... though it could have been the brother's, uncle's, cousin's, etc. Either way, Corvette, two guys, gas station. They're very loud, revving the engine, seeking attention, ensuring everyone getting gas sees them in their lovely black sports car. Then the driver gets out to pump his gas (which is rare -- but he wanted to be seen). Without further details -- let's just say this vehicle was an extension (and hopefully an addition) to everything about this man.

Then you have your Tahoe/Yukon guys (my personal favorites of all the shallow men). These are your more self assured, confident, but still attention seeking young men. They're confident enough to get attention without the vehicle, but appreciate the attention the vehicle brings.

Of course there's the Mercedes (S Class), BMW (700 series), and Lexus (760) drivers. These are the men who generally have a bit more class about them. They've purchased high end luxury, appreciate it, but want to show everyone in Kuwait what they have. Some esteem issues, but more arrogance than anything else. Of course if they're not driving it up and down the Arabian Gulf all night, this does not apply to them.

Then there's the rented Mercedes, BMW, Lexus, Maserati, etc. with 5 young guys in it. This is the most ridiculous of all. If it takes 5 of them to afford a weekend rental, and they're willing to spend their few dinar on sharing this car, imagine their character. Oh my. Need I say more?

Finally we have the men who truly purchase a car for transportation. They don't get all hung up in the make, model, or how many women it's going to attract. These men are rare in Kuwait, but when you find one -- simply amazing people. They have depth, character, and a real personality. They don't spend half their salary on a car in hopes of getting a woman for a few hours, because they have real qualities to attract people. Without the extension of an overpriced car. I admire these men, and wish Kuwait had more of them.

Why is it I feel as though I've posted over the past couple of days, but when I actually get here I realize I haven't in a few days? Did I type and forget to publish? Did I have thoughts I forgot to type? I recall typing about leaving on vacation, how I will miss Kuwait (as always), and my immediate recovery from that the moment I have my first cup of American Starbucks upon arrival at Terminal C in Washington, DC. I don't think my love for Kuwait is any secret, however, the feeling an American gets when stepping foot back in our own land is indescribable. The airport alone has "You're in America" written all over it. I mean, not literally (or, well, maybe depending), but it just feels very American. Those of you who travel from Kuwait to America definitely know what I mean.

Speaking of travels, a friend of mine is returning from her American vacation this Saturday. I'll be picking her up at the airport and then leaving out just a few days later. We're planning a dinner with the girls on Sunday, and some salon time. I feel like I need to squeeze in as much salon time as I can prior to leaving. One thing America doesn't offer that Kuwait does is complete and total pampering at a very reduced rate. We pay handsomely for pampering in the states. Kuwait is pretty much giving it away... and I likey.

Yesterday I popped into the Sultan Center near my home for a couple of little items. No major shopping, but I was in need of some olive oil and fresh veggies. I was making a whole wheat pasta salad with chicken... I love to cook. Oh yeah -- so I am coming out of the store and see an American guy walking in. For a brief moment I thought it was someone I was fairly close to several years ago. This would be the same man with the disgruntled wife. Yeah, him. AKA - thief. This American guy was tall, wearing a t-shirt and baseball cap (which is fine on a hot casual day), but this appeared to be his work attire. Um, ew. I passed him as I was going out the door and quickly realized it wasn't the person I almost thought it was. However, it did cause me to make a phone call to a friend here and discuss options for recouping my rather hefty sum of money which this former friend had once 'borrowed' and never paid back. After a rather long conversation with my very mature and logical friend -- it was decided I have let it go for this long, why bother myself now? I know he's right. I have no doubt at all. However, about once a year (this time of year), I find myself pondering the legal steps I could take. We're not talking about a few hundred bucks here, people. Really, this is quite a substantial amount of money. So forgive me for continuing to whine about it several years after the fact.

Oh well, done with that for another 12 months.

Ground-breaking is expected to begin on the house about a week after I arrive to the states. I'm trying to get them to prolong this as long as possible as I really don't want to close till December, or even January if they could squeeze that. Obviously I have to be there for closing, but don't plan to go to the states again till at least late November, early December... and would love to put it off another month. Still, it's exciting. The decision to build this home is almost my ploy to keep my sons living at home as long as possible. It's rather large for American standards, and could easily accommodate them and my mother, as well as a couple of wives and children eventually, As they grow up, I grow old. I don't like either process. They're my babies and always will be.

Here in Kuwait men don't move out of the home until they're married, and sometimes not even then. It's very common to meet a man in his mid to late 20's still living at home. Whereas in America we label him a 'loser', here he's a good man. I like their concept. Why does one need to leave the nest, move out, and live on their own? Why incur those costs when mommy has a perfectly lovely home to reside in? Families should remain as close as possible for as long as possible. Especially with the economy in the shape it is today in the states.

Other than that little bit of babbling, I don't have a lot going on over on this side of the world. Well, nothing I would be on here blogging about anyway. Some things really are better left unsaid.

Oh, when I return from vacation I'm getting a Persian kitten. I've decided I need unconditional love and companionship. My work hours allow me to have a lovely independent kitten, and I think it's time. The only part I get concerned with will be her transition to America when I finally leave here for good. I'm sure I will cross that bridge with ease when the time comes.

Also, I have a friend who plays piano here. He's simply amazing, and I wish I had the words to describe his level of talent. If he were only as dedicated to practicing as I am to listening he would be a total genius. Sometimes he'll play for me into the wee hours of the morning, and I've threatened to purchase a piano so he can spend mydays off performing live while I drink coffee and overlook the sea from my windows. The idea of having a live musician sitting in my living room for my personal listening pleasure is really more than any girl deserves. The fact that he spends so much time playing for me now is truly wonderful. I'm working on getting him to write a song for me so I can have my own little piece of his talent and it will be all about meeee.