turn that frown upside down

Written 11/10, forgot to upload to the website.

After nearly 4 months of lame excuses, today the excitement started. We went to ACE/True Value Hardware and picked out paint colors for our beautiful new place in the gorgeous new blue building. OUR BUILDING! It stands out like a clean, fresh beacon in our dirty, old, Iranian ghetto (in the middle of Kuwait). The smell of paint and wood finish permeate every nook and cranny of the building and is a welcome reprieve because it means our new place is nearly finished.

As we start to prepare our new house for our impending move, there is still sadness. As we plan and prepare, we notice that our new location has windows facing away from the neighboring mosque. This means--no call to prayers. The call to prayers have become like an inviting friend... a peaceful sound that I have recently began turning back into at 4 a.m. (and using in lieu of an alarm clock). I will miss them when they are gone.

Though I will miss them, there is a new beautiful sound in my life... and that is the sound of my little Xavier reading his sight word books (see the YouTube video on the right to hear him).

I look forward to telling you great things about our new move! Happy days are here again!

a lot of catching up to do...

written on September 26...

No excuses. I haven't blogged in way too long. Though I'm sick (with what they call the Kuwaiti crud), tired, and distracted by the lazy life that exists during Ramadan, I have no excuses for my tardiness.

So let me start at the beginning.

Ramadan: It's the time of year that Muslims honor the Qur'an being revealed to the prophet Mohammed. This always occurs during the ninth month (of the Islamic calendar) and is determined by the cycle of the new moon. During Ramadan, Muslims are diligent about praying and fast during the daylight hours. The idea is that fasting will teach people to be patient, cooperation, humility, and sacrifice. It is the job of Muslims to seek forgiveness for past sins and work towards good deeds in the present. What this really means is--life stops for a whole month!  Schools and business open late, close early, then open after Iftar and life begins at 8pm. 

Our take on Ramadan: Rob and I are so done with Ramadan. By the time we are home from school, stores are closed. You can't get any work done between 3.00 and 7.30 pm. And since our kids are asleep by 8.00, we're in a lot! We can't wait for Eid (the celebration that marks the end of Ramadan) because life should get back to normal. That means, grocery shopping and errands during the day. Drinking water or grabbing a snack during the day is OK. Just three more days!

Gurgiyan: a children's celebration to mark the halfway point of Ramadan. Kids dress up in ethnic costumes (mostly Arabic) and knock on people's door (much like our Halloween). In lieu of "trick-of-treat" children sing a little Arabic tune which earns them sweet treats. In America, "trick-or-treat" earns a couple bite-size Snickers or a set of jelly vampire teeth. Here, a Gurgiyan song earns you a bag full of candy. 

Our take on Gurgiyan: With a few girlfriends in toe, we spent the weekend before the big day going Gurgiyan dress shopping. This was harder than we expected because Gurgiyan is really just a kids day. But, when you're a teacher, it's kind of expected that you participate. Xavier's dishdasha (the long, white men's robe that is matched with a variety of scarf-like head dresses, held to the head by a black band) and Anouk's dress (which has a name that I cannot remember) were easy to find. 

Gurgiyan is the total opposite of Ramadan. It's full of indulgence and abundance--which all take form as little sweets. Yes, CANDY! Holy crap. I've never seen this much candy in my life. I think our little threesome (Xavier, Anouk, and I--since Rob is part of the high school and they don't celebrate) brought home over 4 lbs. of candy. After unwrapping toys, gifts, treasure boxes, and candy, I kept a stash for the kids and returned copious amounts to our respective classrooms as student rewards after Ramadan.

 The one aspect to keep from  Gurgiyan is the costuming. Kids dress in ethnic clothing (mostly Arabic) and look adorable. In addition, we adults get to learn a lot about the costuming from different Arab states, so it's a lesson for me too!

Iftar: During Ramadan, iftar is the time of night when a family meets together to break their fast. Iftar occurs after the Maghrib (sunset) prayers (and for us non-Muslims are irrerevrently referred to as the "call to eat" prayers).  As the prayers begin, families all over the Arab world break fast with a date (or two) and a drink of water. The families then make their way to the mosque for their Maghrib prayers (the fourth set of prayers for the day). Once this is completed, the iftar begins and families begin their evening feast which often lasts for hours. Because people have not eaten all day, their stomach's cannot handle much food. For this reason, most iftar celebrations include a lavish display of food and is eaten into the wee hours of the morning.

Our take on Iftar: Our school holds a fancy iftar dinner at a hotel every year. We couldn't make it because we were a family full of sickies. So I was incredibly excited when an Arabic and Islamic teacher, at the school, personally invited me to the Religion staff's iftar at our school. As I walked up to the high school canteen area (an area near our school's indoor gym and the school mosque), the ceiling was lined with student-made lanterns (or fanous as they are called in Arabic) and a table was all laid with beautiful colored papers, bowls of dates, and glasses of water. About a hundred students, teachers, and parents milled around this table waiting to hear the Maghrib. As the prayers rang loud from the distance, the mass flocked swiftly to the table to grab a date and a glass of water. I was stunned how gentle everyone was. After two or three dates, the group migrated to the mosque while us non-Muslims quietly waited for the iftar to begin. 

About 10 minutes later, the Muslim group returned from the mosque and the iftar began with a decadent display of food. The food was amazing. The most delicious chicken in a mildly spicy gravy with spices I've never heard of or tasted before was my favorite (but since then, I've since forgotten the name of the chicken loveliness). This and about 10 other beautiful meat dishes were complimented with at least 50 sides: from salads to breads, rice dishes to cold vegetable platters-- it was a feast for sure.

The iftar was followed by a lecture, in the school's mosque, by a world-renowned theologian. The lecture was intended to educate people on the holy month of Ramadan but quickly evolved into a comparison between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (with a strong focus on the latter as superior). It was interesting though a little preachy. 

The most interesting thing he said, in a way of discussing radicals like Osama bin Laden, was that there is a distinct difference between Arabs and Muslims. He said that most Muslims are just Muslims because their parents are. This theologian called this type of Muslim: an Arab. He said that Islam is a chosen religion and you must believe and practice the religion, which, in it's simplest form is a religion based on love, respect, and cleanliness (of body and soul). He said Arabs fight, are disrespectful to others, and do not keep themselves or their communities clean. He said that when he walks around Kuwait (and even our school) he notices more Arabs than Muslims. 

So that's it. That's what we've been up to during the holy month. Not much, but a lot of cultural learning has happened. My next post will be soon... inshallah (god willing). Inshallah is how everything gets done here: "your apartment will be ready soon [pregnant pause], inshallah." "This medicine should make you better [a brief pause], inshallah." "Your civil ID will be here by the end of the week [giggle, giggle], inshallah."

So again... my next post will be soon [with a little grimmace] inshallah.

Heck Yeah!

Ok, I guess it's about time for me to put in my 5 fils (2 cents) worth. I can't believe my 3 and 5 year old kids posted stuff on here before I did, but then again, I don't have a secretary to do my typing for me. Here's my digest of our first three weeks in Kuwait. I won't bore you with the same stuff you've already heard about, instead I'll give you the  stories you won't hear anywhere else.

I have to start with a big kudo to Xavier and Anouk, I still can't believe how well they did on the way over here. Once we got to the airport though, we started experiencing Kuwait. Our first little adventure was a trip to the bathroom where Xavi had to go #2. Didn't seem like a big deal until I opened the door to the stall: a squatting toilet. Xavier had no idea what he was supposed to do and I'm sure if you would have taped our antics we would have been an instant hit on youtube. Unfortunately everything didn't go as planned so we needed a change of underwear. After finding Angela and some clean undies we headed back to the restrooms to change. This time we opened a different stall and you guessed it: it was equipped with a regular toilet, the kind we all know and love.

Xavier pulled another fast one on us today as we were coming home from school. We were going up in the elevator with one of our colleagues. Xavier was very polite and asked him what his name was, which was Mr. Powers. When we got off on our floor we asked Xavi to say goodbye to Mr. Powers so just as the door is closing he proceeds to say (loudly): bye Mr. Grumpy! It was definitely one of those surreal should we laugh or should we cry moments, so we quickly went inside and laughed.

Anouk is also her little self, although she now claims to be shy all the time (something she picked up from Xavi). She's obviously not shy though since all the teachers in preschool already knew her by the end of the first week, and her teacher told me after her second day of school that Anouk is very expressive and had no problems "sharing" her opinion. I tried to apologize for Anouk's motor mouth but her teacher proceeded to tell me that she loves it. We'll see how long that lasts.

That's it for now. I wanted to post some pictures of my first photojournalistic essay: "who am I, a journey of self discovery through pictures", but we lost our card reader so you'll have to wait a little longer.  Until next time, ma as-salaamah,

Robert

it's every girls dream!

(written 9/6, but due to the temporary loss of our card reader, no pictures could be uploaded, hence, no blog)

... to own an antique camel saddle? Not really, but then again, I'm not every girl! A group of ladies escorted a few of us newbies to Gloria's shop. Gloria is a British woman who has spent the last 25 years living in Kuwait and purchasing, reconstructing, and refurbishing Arabic and Indian antiques. I have met an angel here in Kuwait. And her name is Gloria.

As I was perusing amazing tables, dressers, frames, mirrors, and chairs, I walked by this bizarre looking item propped in the corner of the room. I passed by it. Touched it. Was awed by it. And dismissed it as an odd prop. But as I moved through the rooms and could see this odd decoration from the corner of my eye--I became more intrigued by it. What the heck is it? What would you use it for? Why is it here?

I passed from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, inside and out, and yet forces kept pulling me towards it. So I finally found the label, read it, and found out that this peculiar item was an antique camel saddle. Though I couldn't imagine how I would justify the purchase to Rob, or concoct a reasonable use for it. I couldn't imagine leaving without it. 

So I didn't!

And now, I am the proud owner of an antique camel saddle with little to no purpose whatsoever. So if you are so inclined, drop me a line with your suggestions. How would you use such a useless item? (keep in mind, it has been leaning in the corner in an upright position and another one was in the bathroom at Gloria's store and was used as a towel rack).

they say it's your birthday...

... and finally, Xavier's birthday was once again celebrated in the same time zone he celebrated his birthday. It was very exciting (and very reminiscent). Poor little Xavi had only been in school for 4 days when his birthday arrived, so a party with long-time friends was certainly out of the question. So we came to a compromise--a cookie and milk bash for friends in class followed by a small family dinner (at home, since it's Ramadan and we can't eat out before sunset), and then ice cream with a few new friends. But when I brought the idea to the mom of one of his friends (she and her husband have been here for a year in their second tour to Kuwait) she wasn't having any of it! The party would be at her house and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Before departure, Xavier received happy birthday calls from multiple continents with kisses and hugs from grandparents and friends. Then, at 6.30 on Thursday night, we made our way through the 87% humidity to their overly air conditioned house with ice cream and sundae fixings. By the end of the night, Xavier had accrued a slew of new toys for his room, had heard "the birthday song" 6 times in 3 different languages, and was happy that he was 5 and could start learning to read.

Though it wasn't the typical Angela-created birthday party--it was wonderful to see his joy.

from the mouths of babes...

-from Xavier

My first day of school was good and I was so naughty because I was not relaxing and I talked at Papa's school. On my first day of school I made friends, but I don't remember his name. Joseph is my new friend. I didn't know how to read yet. I like my school because I make a lot of friends and I play on the playground. I was going up the pole. I raced the bikes like zoooom. And the the other guy was going slow and I went swooosh and went faster than him. Now I am done, Mama.

-from Anouk

Mama, school is good. And today, when my teacher came another teacher came and then my teacher came again. And I had two teachers and it was good. At school we play. We play with toys and friends and that's it. I forgot what else we do. We play at the playground  and the it rains because it is hot when I play too much. In the big boy area it rains a lot but we play at the small kid area sometime. We play at the big kid area too. Now our new home in Kuwait is good. Our good home is good that I love the school that we love. I eat snack at my school and it is yummy because I like crackers. And also, the crackers have names. Like, uh, and they also have chocolate milk like Starbucks. Isn't that cool mama? It's like Starbucks. Hey Mama, my day was good.

-from Mama

Looks like they really had a great first (and second) day of school. Xavier is bummed that they haven't taught him how to read yet, but that will come. He actually has been moved into a class with more western kids so when the students are taken out for Arabic and Religion (Kuwaiti mandated classes), he isn't the only one that doesn't attend. Anouk likes the rain at playground which refers to misters that cool them while they play outside. I know that they are happy because conversation has changed from "when are we going back to Fremont?" to "when we visit Fremont." School is cool on all counts.

a little R & R

written August 26, 2008

This week has been incredibly hectic. As an elementary teacher, I have moved from inservice to inservice without so much as a minute to get into my room to get cracking. Don't get me wrong, I now know my curriculum and I know about my "units of inquiry" or our PYP program (an amazing curriculum that is part of the International Baccalaureate program known around the world for high school), and I know about Kuwaiti ministry censorship laws, rules, and how copyright is a loose term in this country. I know all of this stuff now. But I don't know what I'm going to do with the kids next week. We hired a trial nanny and the kids would run from her. I don't know how I'm going to run my classroom because I haven't had a minute to work on it. And I don't know why the heck I'm taking time away from being in my classroom to go on this stupid "go-see" at Al Cornich Club and Spa because there's no way we can afford it!

A few teachers belong to this club because it's close to the school apartments, is lovely, and has all the amenities one could want in a desert country. One such staff member worked out a deal that we could take a spinning class, go on a tour of the facility, and then have free run of the place for 4 hours as we considered joining the club. Well... Rob, the kids, and I got there and we were hooked--the pool is amazing, the facilities are top notch, and the club owns 300 meters of pristine (and private) Kuwaiti beach line (which means... you have 300 meters to wear western bathing suits on the beach--woo hoo! ladies). The kids took to the water like only little fish can and I knew that the terrible time was coming that we had to decline to enroll and hide our heads as we left the Corniche in sadness because lovely is just so out of our price range right now. And so came money time...

The club manager sat down with the visiting teachers and began on the deal. And how Xavier, though only a week before his 5th birthday would fall under the loophole that would make him a free member for a year. After much him-hawing back and forth, Rob gave us the all clear.

So now, we are the newest members of Al Corniche--an exclusive haven where you are not allowed to talk shop. Where, instead, you must only spend time working out at the gym, basking in the sun, floating in the water, or looking over the Gulf.

We have found an oasis here in Kuwait and it's called: "Al Corniche!"

sweatin' to the oldies

Well... our first weekend is coming to an end. Sunday is just hours away and that means, yup--school day! One more week and the kids arrive and school will be in full swing. Augmenting our mindset to a Friday and Saturday weekend is a bit challenging especially since the first day of the weekend is the holy day (when most shops are closed) as opposed to the last day of the weekend in a lot of European towns.

But just like Kuwait... there are always shops open. With Rob and the kids home, I grabbed my wallet and joined a group on a tour of the old soukh's. A soukh (pronounced sook) is an independent market stalll If you remember the duka's in Kenya--you've got the drift. I was stoked to attend this trip without my family and with the approval from the bank that I could buy something cool. I had great visions of bringing home some amazing Arabic stool, tapestry, painting, or the like. But when we got there, my bubble quickly burst. The old soukh sells new stuff in an old traditional part of town. Are you kidding me? I didn't need, nor want teapots or mops, vegetables or Middle Eastern looking carpets tagged with made in China stickers. I want old stuff!!

Though the shopping (except the gold) left a lot to be desired, the experience did not. In the 35C (102F) weather, we strolled the old soukh, looking past the dilapidated walls to the Grand Mosque, the architecturally stunning Kuwaiti Stock Exchange, or the Liberation Tower all of which hover over these dingy little shops. The smell of exotic spices like cumin and paprika mixed with lavish oils and incense from other shops. My nose was on overload and it became clear to me why people are seen, during religious experiences, bringing the smells to their noses--the smells are amazing.

After hours of walking through old narrow streets, a gaggle of gals sat down to eat shawarma's and watched as another interesting part of Kuwaiti life unfolded in front of me. As we sat out and ate free falafal's, regulars were pulling their car up to the curb and honking--setting in motion the chain of events that is a Kuwaiti drive-up. Without calling ahead or escaping the luxury of your air conditioned car, you drive up to a restaurant (even McDonald's and Pizza Hut play be these rules), toot your horn, and make your order from your car. Minutes later, your dinner makes its way to your car and you're off. Very few people in Kuwait are as silly as me and the girls. To sit outside and eat dinner in 100 degree + weather on a weekend evening is virtually unheard of. But with sweat dripping down my brow, the call to prayer from the Grand Mosque blaring behind me, eating my chicken shawarma with pickled carrots, and lemon juice with mint--I wouldn't have exchanged the experience for anything.

"it smells like farts"

**the picture to the right is the kids sitting on Tricia and Vince's couch here at the IKEA in Kuwait. If you look closely, you can see the information sheet in Arabic**

Sometimes as parents, we innadvertantly do some terrible things that have incredible ramifications. Rob and I did one such horrible thing right before we came to Kuwait. While packing our life away, Kathy Griffin (comedian host of the TV show, My Life on the D-List) was playing in the background. Though we thought our kids were naively doing their thing and keeping to themselves, Rob and I stopped packing and focused on her comments about her trip to Kuwait, where she worked with the USO to bring comedy stand-up to the troops. As she talked about her experience, she reflected the smell in Kuwait leaved a bit to be desired. Kathy thought it was so bad, in fact, that she said, "it smells like farts." This isolated comment was funny but has quickly lost its humor. Everyday since we've arrived, we walk out of our apartment building and those are the first words out of little Anouk's mouth. Damn comedians.

Besides the occasional foul smell, Kuwait has shocked me in many ways. Yesterday, we took an interesting trip to the state hospital for HIV blood tests and TB X-rays. All 33 newbies were loaded onto buses and taken to the state hospital here in Salmiya. Kuwait's state-sponsored hospitals cover Kuwaiti citizens and immigrant workers alike (yeah oil!). The advantages and disadvantages of state-run health care were evident during this experience. The 7 men of our group were whisked away to a men's waiting room with Kuwaiti and other arab men, while the women were excluded to an outer waiting room with expatriate men from India, Sri Lanka, and China waiting for anyone who knows someone to get in before us. This oddly inappropriate experience is one example of the many contradictions here in Kuwait. But the bizarreness was just the beginning. To get our TB X-rays, the ladies were sent to a second hospital. The latter being a hospital with the capacity to see women. This means-- after waiting in one line, waiting in another line, and then being told to wait in line #1 again, 26 expat women followed one man to the point of no return--a heavy door with a handmade sign warning men that they could not pass. (In Kuwait, though not as strict as Saudi Arabia nor as liberal as the Emirates, there are still a lot of rules that must be followed--men at the doctor's is one. A man must escort his wife to the doctor, speak to the doctor, and be present during the examination--except in the rare occurance of needing a TB test.) During this experience, women bond, amused in unison at the shared experience of standing around in orange kaftans without men and without bras. This was our Red Tent.

This bare bones experience was rewarded by a trip to the Avenues--an enormous shopping mall with such stores as: IKEA, Foot Locker, H&M, Claire's Botique, Tag Heuer, Carrefour, Chili's, the Body Shop, and 7 Starbucks, just to name a few. It's so interesting to see such conflicting lives intersect here in Kuwait--the traditional versus the cutting edge, the sexist versus the sexy, the old versus the new. After an entire day of learning about curriculum and culture here in Kuwait, it is evident that these kids have one characteristic that sets them apart from most kids in the world--they must learn to live in both words without rocking the boat too much.

another day, another dinar

Our first day is behind us. I should be sleeping right now, but a combination of excitement and jetlag forces me up to my temporary living room to complete some paperwork and read some boring information packet to once again set off to slumber.

Yesterday was a full day. And thank allah (the appropriate phrase in these parts) it was. If it hadn't been, we would have had major jetlag issues. A 330 am interruption jolted the Langlands clan awake as we were greeted by our first call to prayer.  This apartment is about 100 steps from the nearest mosque so we are really gettin' it.  

Contrary to what we were told, the building we are taking up temporary residence in is full of only AIS faculty. So we all met downstairs to make the quick walk to the school. (By looking out our kitchen storage room, we can see the school. And if I had a great throw, I could probably loft a rock to it.) Once there, the introductions began. I remember about 4 names (though I was introduced to over 30 people) and I figure, I'm on the 5-a-day plan. Pole, pole... it will come in time!

The school is huge! The elementary section making up 1/2 of the school's population. I met 2 of the other 4th grade teachers who are new this year, making our teaching team of 5 an enormous size. My classroom is small and intimate, but has everything I could need. Next week, I'll really be able to get my hands dirty and see what's under everything, but right now, I'm just trying to breathe.

After school tours, paperwork, and trips to the business office to get our settling-in allowance, we picked up the kids (bad idea) from their new friend Tristan's house and were whisked away to the Sultan Center to do our first bit of lunching and grocery shopping. Had Rob and I been really smart, we would have left the kids behind to nap at Tristan's. Instead, we dragged them with us to what turned out to be an interesting experience. We took them to a restaurant in the hopes that eating would give them energy to keep up (it was 3 am US time and they were wiped out, moody, and reeking havoc). All to no avail. Lunch for the 4 of us was miserable. Anouk tried chicken nuggets and since they are not some 1/2 soy-1/2 processed chicken thing like any American fast-food chain, she took 2 bites, gagged, and ate all her french fries. Likewise, Xavier despised his freshly-made kids burger that tasted like my nama had just pat it by hand. What has happened to these two? AHHH. So, despite our devastating lunch, we bribed them with an ice cream on the next block (in an effort to keep ourselves SANE). By the time we made the 5-minute jaunt, their little cheeks were all red from the heat. We walked in to a mini food-court with: Sbarro Pizza, Hardee's (the east coast version of Carl's Jr.), Baskin Robbin's, and Krispy Kreme. The kids were in junk-food heaven. I bought a couple of ice cream scoops which bought me valuable good-behavior time.

For the next couple of hours we trotted in and out of shopping centers in a routine of get hot, cool down, get hot, cool down. Despite the heat, it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be.

On our way home from this jaunt, Anouk passed out on the bus. The heat, her exhaustion, and the heavy day just took it's toll on her little 3-year-old body. It was amazing to watch us juggle all of our crap off the bus: 10 bags of groceries, all of our junk that we hauled to school in the morning, a sleeping kid, and an even heavier kid who just wanted to play video games. It was a comedy of errors.

We arrived back in the apartment and couldn't have been happier. Xavier played for hours while Anouk slept, and Rob and I read, unpacked, or did a number of other mundane things.

I can't tell you how shocked I am at things here. I had no idea it would be like this. We are just minutes away from the Gulf which is gorgeous. Yachts, speed boats, and wave runners cutting through the water in the hot, hot sun make me feel like I'm on a resort island. Tall, thin apartment buildings pack every block, and silty sand lines the "curb" so sharing the tarmac road with the crazy Kuwaiti drivers is the only option. People are dressed in every type of garb you can imagine: from Western clothing with a lot of labels (D&G, Prada, Gucci, etc.) to a gamut of veiled women and robed men. The wealth here is amazing. And who would have guessed that we would be coming to a place with so much BLING! While local kids speed around the apartment blocks on mopeds sans shoes and helmets, while mom-and-pop businesses are everywhere. Between our apartment and school there is a Lebanese restaurant, dry cleaner, photo studio, bakery, fruit stand, and 3 7-11 type shops. 

I'll tell you what Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. It's 330 am, morning prayers have just begun. One mosque down, a dozen more to go. That's my call to bed!

the eagle has landed

We've made it. That's the good news. The great news is--the kids were incredible! They played, they shared, they SLEPT! And at present, they are still sleeping, tucked away in what will probably be our family bed for the next few weeks until they feel at home. 

Our adventures in Kuwait started late Saturday night when we arrived at the airport and were informed that our children did, in fact, need visas independent of ours. While we waited over an hour for our names to be called, the kids enjoyed their first meal in Kuwait--yup, a midnight run at the airport McDonalds. They couldn't have felt more at home.

Just as I had suspected, the visa dilemma had a silver lining. That of course was--all 17 of our bags and boxes had been offloaded off the carousel and were waiting for us to claim. Three porters later, all of our bags were loaded onto the last security check before we left the airport--a booze check. In the US, our bags are screened for weapons and liquids, here they are out-scanned for liquor. 

Within minutes, our porters guided us through the arrivals doors with no customs checks whatsoever. We were greeted by the school's administration team (most of whose names escape me at this moment) and LOTS of water. 

We encountered our first dose of heat upon leaving the airport at 12.30am when the temperature was 39C (102F) and it didn't feel so bad.

The real adventures, though, began when we were the last group dropped off at our apartment complex. 1.00 am and we're standing outside a building block with no driver, no help, and not a sole in sight except some youth who were chasing down feral cats. I found a shop that was open and the shop keeper let me call my superintendent who sent someone to save us--our neighbor Steph (and our new best friend).

We're in. Our luggage is here. I'm borrowing someone elses wireless internet connection. And we're ready to take on the day. There's a lot of sand. The people (so far) are great and far more efficient than Kenya. And they LOVE kids. Not a stranger has walked by Xavier or Anouk and not smiled, waved, rubbed their heads, or teased them a bit. 

...it all looks promising.

Will write more later.

-ang

and, we're off...

Well, the time has come to say goodbye. Not forever. Just for now. 

12 Rubbermaid containers, 4, 60-lb. suitcases, and a box of the art I just couldn't live without, will join us as we make a new home in Kuwait.

I don't know what we've gotten ourselves into. And honestly, I'm too excited to care. The new adventure, the slower pace, and the fresh start is good enough for me.

So stay tuned... the adventure continues.

-ang