Thoughts

Whee…

Winter froze my posting, I see. Nothing much new in here, I found out that Kuwait can have somewhat of a winter (around ten degrees of Celsius), which can be more annoying than it was in England as we have got no heaters in here, only ACs. But survivable and yeah, I can finally can keep the windows open (given it’s not a sandstorm) and feel and smell the fresh air; I love it especially when the wind comes from coast and brings that salty, fresh scent of the sea, which during winter turns into powder blue. And even the beaches are possibly clean, unlike during the heats.
I don’t have many news, perhaps the fact I have a third angel in heaven waiting for me, but the hope dies last and we shall try to get me through the whole pregnancy once again; I did it once, failed thrice, maybe now is the time to succeed again…?
It’s very painful experience and makes me rather radical towards these women which go to abortion because they can’t keep their legs closed or the child just isn’t convenient for them, while I try hard and hard and in my rather young age already went through four pregnancies; with Dori being the only kiddo alive…
From felting I went to playing World of Warcraft, which with it’s immense and colourful world lets me forget on many problems of daily life.
Dori’s still an illegal immigrant and we can’t travel out of country, because we won’t be able to get her back in. And, not so surprisingly, Czech neither Kuwait officers are cooperative nor helpful and let us eat the sour end, trying to figure out how to make each other’s country persuaded that things just sometimes don’t go their way. Kuwait demands paper that states I’m the sole guardian of my daughter; Czech sends her birth certificate. Kuwait doesn’t recognise BC without biological fathers, and Czech doesn’t give statements about guardianships when they got their BC which says it clear.
Now, help us God.

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(Not so) White Christmas

As the traditional Czech celebration time is rather near (or better yet already here, as the Advent – 4 Sundays before the Christmas Eve – already started), I’ve begun to remember the atmosphere I liked; the baking during evenings when outside is blanketed by heavy layer of snow, the walks during the freezing days tugged in warm clothes, the hot chocolate milk after we arrived with our noses red and about to fall off (or melt), the traditional denying of my family that there’s something like a fish or carp and stubbornly having a chicken feast; and so on.
The smells of the tree at home mixed with the peeled off clementine or orange and a gingerbread. The going crazy after a cat breaks that extremely fragile glass decoration hanging deliciously swinging from the fir branches.
While being in Briatin wasn’t quite the real thing for me, it still had some hints of our Highlands winter, cold air and decorations and the spirit; being in Kuwait is something diametrically different. No snow, no winter, unless I count the recent drop by 30 degrees down compared to summer, but still clear sky, salty sea breeze and around 20 degrees of Celsia in the shadow. The real picnic time of Kuwait, we might say, same thing which was happening in Newcastle during the very rare sunny summer days.
So I’m safe to say this year won’t be white for Christmas. Actually, the last two days it’s mostly yellow; a sandstorm came and for my luck this time our neighbourhood got hit straight and we were not really burried in velvety veil of white-yellow-brown dust for several days, with today fading but still ubiquitous crunchy taste of tiny rocks in your mouth, but very close to that.
Two of our bathrooms have broken fan lids so the fans keep on going day and night, which is fine during the normal days (understand, with bearable amount of sand dust in the air), but a misfortune for me as a housekeeper during such a sand disaster outside.
It really took only few hours of the night to bury the whole flat in a silky layer of golden sand. It was and still is everywhere you can imagine; on the sofas, carpets, floors, shelves, cats, freshly washed clothes, newly washed dishes, washing mashine, stove, your coffee and even your underwear. Hard to get rid of and leaving me with a lot of work in the following days trying to smudge it away with a mop and dust it away with a vacuum cleaner. Swipe, clean, desinfect. And hope it won’t come back for some time.


One lovely morning.

One of many sinks… I clean everyday, this came overnight.

Food? Oh no, just more sand.

Note to self: Do not leave dishes from the night till the morning. They’ll need a wash again.

Mirror, mirror, who brought all the sand? Mother-in-law says Lebanon.

Bored, all the windows are closed and all the birds are hidden.

Because yes, white Christmas are romantic, although limb-breaking; but you can stay at home with your warm mug of cocoa and laugh. Yellow Christmas suck, because they reside in your home and transform you fir tree and presents in a bunch of dunes.
PS.: The exquisite white signs of our cat Daniel changed to match the rest of his orange coat. He looks, however, very displeased.

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Ramadan, Moving and Such

The month of Ramadan is in the middle, we’ve finally got used to its own specific rhythm in Kuwait, full of not doing much things (unless really very utterly necessarily needed) during the light time and trying to get everything done after iftaar. Iftaar or fatoor is a special dinner during the fasting month of Ramadan, made usually big and stuffing, it’s a first meal of the day during this time and whole families are gathering for it’s occasion, day by day, the whole month; to wait for the adhan – and in case of Shias wait another few minutes after the muezzin announces the prayer time – and with that break the fasting and enjoy the noisy, vivid meeting of parents, children, grandchildren, spouses and relatives. Needless to say that already crazy people get much crazier, especially drivers, trying to speed up as much as possible to get the first bite; blinkers not working, lights not being valid for them and speed bumps serving as launching pads for shooting the cars to the moon, as many people plainly ignore them and literally fly over them. Kuwaiti speed bumps are big, and the cars suffer.
Than all the cacophony leaves to pray and get again together at a tea, desserts and tons and tons and tons of traditional sweets, watching TV, chit chatting and being really loud once again. People come and leave till the time of suhur, which could be best described as a Ramadan late-dinner-early-breakfast, small meal and drink before the morning prayer comes and starts the whole fasting round again.
All that is happening in a pretty narrow time period, iftaar in Kuwait starts roughly quarter to seven in the evening, and my husband’s family gets suhur between the midnight and two o’clock in the morning, with fajr being shortly after 4 am. I’m not personally sure about till when Sunni sisters and brothers drink or eat, but we’ve got into the custom to end all the meals about half an hour before the adhan sounds, to be sure we didn’t invalidate our fasting.
Sometimes I just feel like Alice in Wonderland, this being my first Ramadan in an Islamic country and getting around this many members of family is exhausting – I’m quite a lone wolf and these meetings get really big and loud. But it’s interesting and fun experience, so different from our very quite, starving days in Britain, where the day is impossibly long and the country doesn’t change it’s tempo for the month unlike here; here the shops and malls and offices change their working hours to much shorter during the forenoon, noon or very early afternoon, and than re-open again after the evening prayer and keep open much longer till the night, ten, eleven, even longer. It makes it possible to make the fasting more pleasant for most of the people, and especially now when the Holy Month comes during the summer time, which is really hot, makes the thirst manageable even if you got some of the errands running.

iftaar
hubby
playing
iftaar
playing
iftaar
iftaar

We’ve finally moved to our new flat in Rumaithiya, painted and mostly furnished, with only small things left to bring and hang and sort. As we’re still in the struggle with officers and judges regarding some officialities, we’re not entitled to a house helper yet, so it’s up to me to run through the flat and clean till I think that I won’t ever need a treadmill because I burn so much fat just sweeping, wiping, vacuuming and polishing the seven rooms and five bathrooms, taking about four hours a day to do it (and I feel partially sorry for the house keeper, because our high fibre carpets are damn resisting all the good intentions, as well as our uber-comfortable soft and fluffy sofas, which have that kind of material that not only catches all the dust and dirt and hairs, it attracts them and gathers them on purpose, I firmly believe). But, eventually, she gets paid for that.
Our two cute tomcats from Beyrouth breeding station are on the way as I’m typing this entry, flying from Prague to Frankfurt and than from there to Kuwait, and I keep on thinking of them and wishing and praying that they survive their very long and exhausting route in tact, safe and sound, and we’ll welcome them either during this night or by tomorrow morning. Inshallah they will be all right, keep them in your minds, please!

podpis

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New Hope

Just a quick update of my previous post, our lost and found puppy July found a new family few minutes ago. Inshallah she will be safe and sound since now and be happy with her adoptive husky friends which are waiting for her right now.
Good bye, July, I’m gonna miss your puppy looks when you wanna cuddle with us. Have a great life in your new place and send us a postcard sometimes :D
podpis

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Randomly Barking

We’re back from Al-Sabah hospital for few days already, Dori’ve finished taking her oral antibiotics and alhamdulilah the infection seems to have faded away finally. On Tuesday we’re ordered for a check back at the hospital but inshallah she’ll be as healthy as a child of her age can be.
Abu took us on some minor fashion shopping while actually cruising Kuwait for a good furniture for the flat; Dori chose few dresses “as a princess”, as she says, me some non-abaya clothes in a rather hippie fashion – maybe I am the hippie my husband claims me to be.

Dori

We had a very weird moment on Friday when a small shadow appeared behind our door, which we first thought as of a cat; but after the curiosity won over us and we opened the door to check on the suspicious shadow, we saw a scared, hungry, thirsty and overheated puppy at our feet, desperately looking for any kind of shadow or cool place in the desert heat outside. And nobody even remotely looking for her. The weird part is that our door is inside of a yard behind beautifully crafted gates which are always closed, and that there are bigger doors leading to the main house together with a big shadow-throwing roof over the corridor. But, take it as you wish, maybe it was a small trial of tolerance and patience waiting for us at the glass entrance.

July
July

We took her inside and cooled her down, gave her a bit of drink and hurried towards International Veterinary Hospital so they could check for any maltreatment which could’ve happen to her before she rested at our doorstep. The check went fine and she seems to be all right except some scares of common things and being a little bit on the hungry side, and she’s at the time being staying with us, till we can find her a new, better adoptive family.
Not that we didn’t think of keeping her, but first of all we – me and DH – are both awesome lamas when it comes to dogs, second, our tomcats are inshallah about to be on the way and that would be a small zoo at home already, really. And third, she’s a puppy, under 4 months of age, untrained, and Siberian Husky. Potty training, basic orders training, and commonly having a dog (not matter the Husky’s need to run and move a lot) in Kuwait aren’t really easy tasks, and completely impossible for two laics, indeed.
So while I keep on running around the small flat in latex glove on one hand and with detergent in the other, cleaning puddles and poops after July every ten minutes (or Juliette, as we named her for now) and trying to get her understand that when we call her by name she should come and not just … plainly ignore; my husband is looking for an adoptive “parent” for the Lost&Found. Our not-so-close relative looks promising at this point, he’s a dog loving person and used to train them, so inshallah he will take her instead of his planned German Shepherd and make us all happy, including her.
And when she’s safely at her new home, we can finally stop showering so frantically before any prayer is due, and let our fingers unwrinkle for once.

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