Tag Archives: school

Typical Contrasts

One thing I love in Kuwait is being able to watch from beyond my lens the plethora of contrasts, and the architecture can demonstrate this very well. From all the glass and chrome skyscrapers, over the symbolical blue and white water reservoirs, to almost crumbling down apartment complexes built 50 years ago. Private versus state buildings, various schools versus foreign funded universities, and so on. The first photograph is a state funded secondary school, under it is one of the palaces of Prince of Kuwait, and than a random house within the city centre. The last picture features a watermelon seller of my choice. Yumm!

Hijab Celebration…

… at Dori’s school. For those of the girls who embraced a scarf. Interesting experience through the eyes of an European for sure!
Please, do forgive me the composition and occasional blur in the foreground (usually caused by front row people tilting in to my frame), ’twas a tid bit crowded and for some (still) fascinating reason, palm-and-bigger-sized smartphones are fine with the vast majority of people at various events, but a conventional camera somehow intimidates and scares – so flashing out my Pentax with proper lens in a Jaffaria school was a bit of an adventure for me. I really don’t think Samsung pics would do it this time.
So, here it goes – girls’ school, girls’ celebration; in Kuwait. By my inconspicuous black box of wonders.
More details on the subject of the celebration later.
Also, I still adore when my husband dresses in dishdasha and ghutra with igal. So smexy! Don’t you think?


Days have been passing by one by one, no winter still, not even autumn eventually here in Kuwait. A little drop in outside temperature, all right, but what is 5 or so degrees, when it’s still over 30 most of the time.
It also starts to get sandy a bit, since the weather’s slowly changing and pressures come and go, so wind picks up all this dry dust and spreads it around.
Funnily enough, same as in Europe, ’tis seems to be the season for influenza’s and colds and running noses, although the outside still screams “Boiling hot, hot, hot!”. After my husband and daughter falling for one of these pesky viruses, I’ve tried to keep myself vitaminized and living on vegetables and fruits and proteins and not breathing the same air as they do, but in the end I’ve got infected as well. Three times boooo for the virus.
Unlike them, however, I am not allowed to take any remedies besides the typical honeylemontea, citruses and rest, so I am cranky and crabby and miserable these days, which everybody can feel and tries to steer clear of me. Good, more rest for me.
I’ve passed some doc’s tests which were important for me and hubby, but waiting for results of some even more important ones, while injecting myself (ok, to be precisely honest, the imagination of me jabbing myself in the thigh makes me wanna feign, so my hubby is injecting me, I can only guess he’s taking it as some kind of revenge for me nagging) on a daily basis with low molecular weight heparin. Yay me. What you wouldn’t do for your future, right?
Except the past weeks being quite typical for a person in the same state of mind and body as I am, we’re fine. (And cranky, remember.) Dori enjoys her school and cries every weekend why are we punishing her by not letting her to go to class (it’s weekend, hun) and Abubu having to take on a side job because of unexpected circumstances sucking us financially dry, we’re just all right, I’d say. I cook a little bit more (which makes me think I have directly taken part in ruining the family budget by forcing my husband to buy these fancy things such as dill, spinach, broccoli, tilapia fish and whatnot, who eats that, right?!), I hate the weather outside to the bits of my mind and wish a snow storm would come and change this flat yellow surface in something more fun, I get motion sick from anything, starting with being driven in a car and ending with playing any 3D games, we get worried about the state of teeth of our kitty, we shop, we visit my husband’s family, generally spoken, we live as any other family, worry as any other family, joy as any other family.
Mundane, boring perhaps, but ours.
Now, let’s get to cook that weird tilapia fish I fished in Rumaithiya market freezer.

Training the Forgotten

Recently I’ve decided to look upon my drawing past again, with the sad fact I probably can’t and ever won’t recover the tens or maybe even hundreds of sketches from high school, college and before. I didn’t take much things with me to England, let alone to Kuwait, but a bunch of soft graphite pencils traveled with me and are haunting the drawer in my table now, so why not to make a use of them.
The problem with drawing skills is that it is indeed not comparable to riding a bicycle and you’re completely capable to forget it all, without any ongoing practice. So did I.
And since I’m stubborn and dedicated as far as I want something, I’ve started from scratch, practicing and drawing and sketching and being completely mad at myself, not noting the great deal of disappointment that I can’t even remotely draw as I used to – and weeks and months of drawing are ahead of me, IF I want to get at least on par with past, or maybe even better.
I’ve got some exercise books which don’t take any beginner lightly and smack you right at start with dozens of drill and copying so you can get it back in hand again. They’re merciless to your mistakes, but in the end, if one wants to draw, he shouldn’t expect much soft approach on the side of other artists, right..?

Here’s my first sketch – purely exercise to get the movement back into hand and of awful quality, but hey, I’m trying! For anyone interested, I’m using two books – The Natural Way to Draw: A Working Plan for Art Study & Charles Bargue with the collaboration of Jean-Léon Gérôme: Drawing Course.


Před nedávnem jsem se stala obětí krátkého hovoru s jednou z mých bývalých známých z ČR, jednou z těch, které mi ukázaly záda ve chvíli, kdy se dozvěděly o mém manželovi – tedy, ne o něm, jako spíše o jeho původu; slečna, říkejme jí Jana, krátce po vystudování vysoké školy, neschopná v krizi najít umístění vzdělání odpovídající a pracující tedy jako pokladní ve velkoobchodu, od posledka vcelku zahořklá na vlastní život, má sice stále problém s Aboodym, ale “nevadilo by jí, kdyby se dozvěděla něco zajímavého z mého života,” tudíž jsem jí bodře sdělila, že náš život nijak extrémně zajímavý ani výjimečný není, a že jsme vcelku taková normální rodinka. Janě to pravděpodobně nestačilo, ale co se dá dělat, já opravdu věřím, že jsme naprosto normální rodina (ano, máme občas specifické problémy, jako druhou manželku, ale koneckonců, milenka v Čechách se s tím dá vcelku srovnávat, jen by to znamenalo, že manžel přijde k manželce a začne jí domlouvat, ať mu najde hodnou a hezkou milenku; když se nad tím zamyslím, nebylo by to pěkné, vědět dopředu, dámy? :)).
Každopádně přišel na přetřes Janě prozatím neznámý problém, a to umístění potomka do školky.
Nám se to nepodařilo, nejbližší škola je v naší ulici, ale je také ověnčena mnoha trofejemi a vynikající pověstí, tudíž 28 místeček ve školce se zaplní raz dva. Místo jsme tedy nedostali, což je asi jasné. V Británii, Newcastlu tedy konkrétně, má každé tříleté dítko nezvratitelné právo mít místo ve škole (ne privátní, ostatní však ano) a to zadarmo. Je to totiž poslední rok školky pro děti v UK, ve čtyřech letech nastupují do normální školy. Ta se ovšem nekoná jako v ČR, první rok děti navštěvují takzvané “reception classes”, což je něco jako škola hrou. Chodí ven, učí se pojmenovávat věci, co vidí, kreslí, hrajou si. Oficiálně děcko ani nemusí do školy chodit do dne svých pátých narozenin, tudíž, ano, pokud má narozeniny v květnu, začne svůj první školní rok až v květnu. Dětem pod pět let se pak věnuje více pozornosti. Kromě toho, na třídu deseti až patnácti dětí jsou vždy tři “tety”. Těžko tvrdit, že to takhle je po celé UK, či Newcastlu, ale rozhodně to tak je ve školách v našem okolí.