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.