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