the dazzling affair & the unquenchable thirst: Kuwait's Record Breaking Fireworks Display

For the past couple of weeks, K-town has been abuzz with a singular numerical figure.
Four million KWD (Kuwaiti Dinars).
For those of you that lead your lives elsewhere, that's the cost of the fireworks display that was held to mark 50 years of the issuance of the Constitution of the State of Kuwait.

Having witnessed last year's fireworks display in awe, we naturally planned to join the throngs of people heading towards Gulf Road to watch the extravaganza that took place last night, from Green Island all the way to Kuwait Towers. It looked like half the country turned out for the breathtaking show.

Sparkly! So sparkly!

We parked in the expansive lot between the Indian embassy and the Third Ring Road, dropped off the father at Burj Al-Hamam, and then the mother, sister and I walked to Kuwait Towers, attempting to buy water on the way there. I was so incredibly thirsty - we walked the whole length of road from Burj al Hamam to Applebee's and every single restaurant and ice cream cart we came across on the way was out of the precious resource. Restaurants like Abdel Wahab Lebanese Restaurant adamantly stated '"they did not give 'take away water'". I'd read that there would be volunteers handing out water like there always are in walks and marathons, but there weren't any.

Discouraged by the crowds laid out in camp chairs all across the beaches after Applebee's, we decided against going up till Kuwait Towers. We halted there (Applebee's) and found a decent enough standing spot on the sand, looking out onto the dark Arabian Gulf. There were screens set up in the middle of the water with moving show lights and far away into the distance, dotted lights shone from a string of boats lined up in the periphery of the sea, with blinking blue lights indicating the presence of the Kuwait Coast Guard. I envied them all their view, it was bound to be spectacular. The show was scheduled to begin in thirty minutes.

By this time, I was almost deliriously thirsty and didn't feel like I could stand any longer. I kicked myself for my lack of foresight for not getting a couple of bottles from home and thought longingly of the carton of pure unadulterated mineral water in the kitchen. I had never wanted water so desperately.

Which brings me to quote the classic and apt lines from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner -

Water, water, everywhere

nor any drop to drink.

You have to appreciate the irony.

Then, the show finally commenced after a countdown from 50 down to 1, thankfully taking my mind off my parched throat for the next hour.

It's not a great video, but note the 'squiggly' fireworks! The first time I'd ever seen them.

A couple more short and crisp videos:

This last one exhibits Kuwait Towers in a dazzling display of explosive colour:

After the last of the record breaking fireworks exploded (77,282 in totality) and the glorious colours quite literally went up in smoke, we started walking back. I was reminded of my dry throat. I have now truly come to appreciate this God given gift and the meaning of the word 'scarcity'. I kept trying to mollify myself with words like, it's okay, pretend you're fasting, but it didn't really work since I don't exactly walk 4-8 km when I'm fasting do I? It's not like I'm in the Gobi desert (even if this still is desert country). Kuwait has a production of 3.1 million barrels of oil per day (October 2011) and has one of the highest standards of living in the world. There is a fireworks show on that cost 14 million USD, that also secured an entry into the Guinness Book of World Records. And there is absolutely no water to drink on a stretch of 4.4 km of the more popular side of the coastline. Kinda makes you wonder what the point of all that oil is, when with all the money in the world, you can't get water when you want it!

It was a frightening thought - suddenly, pictures from CNN of kids walking for miles to procure water from wells in India and Africa began playing in my mind and I started getting flashes of what the world would be like if we ran out of water. Chaos, anarchy... the post-apocalyptic scenario of my ill-timed visions was little short of horrifying.

We stopped at KFC to try our luck there. A conversation that ensued with the cashier:

Me: A bottle of water please.
Cashier: We don't have water.
The sister: Can we have a glass of tap water?
(The sister drinks it all the time in Europe.)
Cashier: We can't do that, Ma'am.
The sister: Can we have a glass full of ice then?

Yes, we could, but that wasn't enough for me; I needed to feel the liquid gushing down my shrivelled insides and assuaging them. Finally, conceding defeat, I ordered Pepsi, knowing full well the sugar in it would dehydrate me further. Perhaps you can fathom how parched my throat was. The gas-less Pepsi was the most disgusting thing I'd ever consumed in a long time, and it incensed me that it cancelled out the good our walk did for me, but I drank more than half of it anyway. Made up for it by guzzling down a litre of water as soon as I got home.

The mother made a valid point: More and more of this country's residents are being diagnosed with diabetes, and all anyone could find to drink at this phenomenal event was Pepsi.. and other gross aerated drinks.

I now leave you to mull over my post with the pictures I salvaged from the blurry mess of photos taken with my iPhone:

and so, it begins

Second best firework on my list - for the brilliance of colour
(it follows the squigglies)

The sky lights up!

and my personal favourite.. The Illusory Exploding Tree.

A monologue with the words in my head

To the words in my head:

It never ceases to amaze and exasperate me how you suddenly start bouncing around in my head on Pogo sticks, like kids high on candy, the second I turn my laptop off. But when it's on? Oh no! Then your kin must flee to skulk in some nook or cranny in the recesses of my mind, refusing to comply, like a teen that just hit puberty. You wouldn't deign to linger long enough for me to open a Word document, or find a notebook or some paper to scribble your form on, no matter how much I plead. You even made me miss my self-imposed deadline of publishing a post every fortnight. Selfish gits, the lot of you.

It gives you great satisfaction doesn't it, when I stare blankly at my laptop screen, waiting for you to come out of hiding and flow as beautifully and effortlessly as you do when I'm otherwise occupied. It's not that you're timid, oh no. Your hyperactive babbling is evidence enough of that. You refuse to relent even when I am in the office and have a demanding assignment on hand; you know well enough that I can't turn my back on it and pay attention to you!

This other matter has little to do with my alternate career as a writer, which, thanks to you, currently hangs from a precipice, but why not bring it up now and get it done with?
You do the opposite when I must make a point to someone. You deliberately disobey all rules of sentence structure, and shatter the very foundations of coherency in communication when I open my mouth to validate my thoughts, thus making me sound like a blithering idiot.

As far as writing is concerned, well, you can't elude me forever. For in just a few hours I will finally receive my iPhone that I so despise from the repair shop where it's been languishing for the past two weeks (the reason behind my distaste for the gadget will serve as a story for another time). Enjoy your shenanigans while you can. Your infantile antics are about come to an end, as I intend to lasso you and pin you down mercilessly onto the Blogger app the second I have my phone back online.

Consider yourself duly warned.

- A disgruntled writer

the much-delayed return of what seems to be self-assurance.

Dear Reader,
(if anyone but me is reading this that is)

Have you been wondering where the devil I am? Excuse the archaic latter half of the interrogative if you think it inappropriate for this century; I have recently discovered Sherlock Holmes, and while I can't really recall reading it in any of his cases, I feel I must credit it to a possible dialogue uttered by Watson.

I digress, as usual. If you've been with me right from the beginning, you might perhaps be aware that I often do so. I think it a little entertaining. Do you?

Anyway. I have a confession/outburst/resolution to make.

This blog was meant to be for me. My little spot where I could nurture my writing. It was supposed to be an outlet for the creativity that lay dormant deep within me. It was meant to transform that dormancy into a seething, ferocious active volcano that would erupt with fabulous vignettes. Because I was told by near and dear and loved and not so loved ones that I had a gift with words. That I could write. That the drivel I often spouted had the potential to be something greater (okay those last few words are mine but the near and dear and loved and not so loved ones meant the same thing). For a time the volcano remained busy. But then somehow, somewhere, my blog lost its identity and as a writer, so did I. I began to crave followers, comments, page views, like an obsessed wanna-be tween with a newly uploaded profile picture on Facebook (I think I'm being unfair to tweens everywhere. I could accuse plenty of adults of harbouring the same obsession). At one point I even longed for my blog to be one of the most-read in the country. To be on those ranking lists. Phooey.

Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to my followers. It makes me feel good that there are people out there who think what I write is worth reading (even if a lot of them are my friends who I've coerced into doing so) and who take the time to discern the annoying-as-hell captcha code and post a comment. I still feel a thrill when on the rare occurrence, I notice a new follower has joined the ranks of My Beloved Stalkers.

Reading so many different blogs, especially local ones, somehow got me muddled about what I began blogging for. I'm not really interested in telling people here what to do with their time and where to go. There are plenty of other blogs on which they can find that kinda info. I don't care to give anyone advice. I will perhaps continue chronicling interesting events I attend as they are part of my experiences and I believe there's something to learn from every encounter, every experience, although I think my last few posts have only been about events, which is going to lessen. I'm pretty sure I have more to write about than to inform people in many words of what a good time I'm having.

Of course, it is a part of every writer's dream to be read. To be recognized. To see their name in print. To write something that an editor thinks is worth publishing. And get published. And keep getting published. On second thought, I'm not going to generalize. I don't really know any other aspiring writers (but one) so I'm not going to speak for anyone. This is a part of my dream.

I don't want to lose my touch and I fear very much that I will if I continue my disappearances for such frequent and prolonged hiatuses. I don't want my blog to die. I don't know why I stopped posting for so long - it might be listlessness, a waning of enthusiasm, an inexplicable reticence, of not wanting to be read mingled with a despair of 'oh who's going to read it anyway', which in retrospect is quite unfair, as I'm pretty certain there at least 8 people who regularly read my deviating narratives and like them. It's definitely not writer's block, for I have many more drafts than actual posts. I think I just have a serious problem with finishing what I begin writing - I need to be completely satisfied with the conclusion.

But this has gone on for far too long. I am suddenly overcome with an impatient fervour to just sign into Blogger and do nothing but type.

To ensure that something (of hopefully, considerable quality) is churned out at regular intervals on my darling blog, I solemnly swear that, henceforth, I will have a post out (and not just save it as a draft, but hit the 'Publish' button) atleast once every fortnight.

I do value and welcome your feedback, criticisms and any pointers you may have for me. How else will I improve? Whether you love a post or hate it, I want to know. Especially if you hate it. Unless it's in your nature to just hate and spread the hate for the sake of it. Then I don't really want to hear from you, as I dislike unnecessary unpleasantness, more so if it's uncalled for. The alliterations were unintentional (HA!!).

Oh and in case you were wondering where the devil I've been (come to think of it, I might have lifted the expression from a Wodehouse novel), I found my first full-time job and have been working since Jan-end, and vacationed in Central Europe (yes, again) for three weeks in Aug-Sept. So I've plenty to write about.

Since you've been such a patient reader, I'll leave you with a not-so-terrible photo I took (of Schloss Eckberg, a hotel in Dresden, Germany that serves the most gorgeous and delicious breakfast EVER) and Bertie Wooster's endearing words of farewell: Tinkerty-tonk!

Schloss Eckberg and the sun peering though the branches

music that moves you.

Sometimes, a piece of music touches you so deeply you feel raw, exposed. You wonder how is it that a non-living thing can understand you, complete you. And then you realize it is living...

I think Mozart's delightful sonata (E minor, KV 304) triggered those feelings in me. Or it might have been Antonín Dvořák's sonatina in G major, Op. 100. Or perhaps Jules Massenet's Thaïs Meditation..

I was thrilled to learn that the two musicians at last Wednesday's concert at Dar Al-Athar Al-Islamiyyah were from the Czech Republic (the Czech ambassador's car should have tipped me off). I could show off the limited (about 15 words tops) Czech I knew!

It was clear from his performance that Adam Skoumal, the pianist, enjoyed every minute of it, his head bobbing to the tunes along with the rest of him swerving to them. He played exceedingly well.. and he knew it.

And the violinist? Roman Patočka?

He seemed to be in a passionate affair with his violin, wooing it, refusing to take no for an answer. His bow was a blur of motion on the fiddle, as it strummed out one beautiful, heartrending melody after another, moving me to my very soul.

They also played a composition of Adam's to the public for the first time ever.

Of course, they received a much deserved standing ovation. After bowing and posing with their bouquets, they stepped off stage, deliberated for about 40 seconds, then returned, announcing they would play Debussy's Claire de Lune.

What a treat!

After the show, I excitedly cornered the rosy-cheeked violinist, Roman Patočka (pronounced patochka), greeting him with a 'dobrý večer!' (good evening, pronounced Dobree Vecher). He was delighted. I announced that I'd holidayed in the Czech Republic the year before and visited the Moravský Kras (limestone caves) and other gorgeous places there. I don't know why I thought he'd care to know that. I suppose like most people I'm under the illusion that on meeting someone from a far off land, you must immediately establish an inane familiarity with said land, no matter what the topic (when I tell foreigners I'm Indian when they ask me where I'm from, they almost always reveal their longing to visit Goa). Well in my case it wasn't inane. So there.

Back to Roman. He was as sweet and friendly as all the other Czech people we met in the CZ, with an adorable, disarming smile. Of course, I took a picture with him. Lately, I've been taking a lot of pictures with random guys - nomad painters, comedians, musicians, cosplayers..

I wanted to buy their CD but they were sold out.

I waved goodbye to them with a cheery 'Nashledanou' (Goodbye, pronounced Nas-khladanou) and they responded likewise.

I leave you with Adam's dramatic composition (that I listen to everyday) - excuse the not-so-fantastic quality. I tried.

Timeline for Facebook Pages - What You Need to Know

As of yesterday, Facebook finally introduced Timeline for Pages, giving everyone until 30th March to make a graceful transition.
If you've switched your personal profile to Timeline you probably guessed this was inevitable.
So what are we looking at exactly? What's out and what's coming into play? Here's the lowdown on Timeline for Facebook Pages.

1. Bye Bye Landing Page: In my opinion, a huge blow is that landing pages have essentially lost their meaning as non-fans now see the Timeline directly. A landing page was a fabulous way for companies to display their creativity and ingenuity (who didn't love Red Bull's *hint hint* call to action?) The page tabs still appear in the row of apps (in default icons, remember to change them) listed below the cover photo, but the landing page is no longer the default.. well, landing page.
   
   

   

   Red Bull's awesome now defunct
   Facebook landing page

   
   
2. Cover Photo: A tremendous consolation for the loss of the landing page is the cover photo. Like the profile picture and image strip could be optimized, Facebook has very kindly saved page owners the trouble of designing multiple images in tune with their brand by having a single, gigantic, in-your-face image, with a width of 810 pixels. Use this real estate to convey what your brand all about. Click here to read about certain rules as to how the cover photo should be used.
   
   
   

   

                            LV effectively communicates the essence of its brand                    
   

3. Highlight baybeh: The Highlight feature is pure genius. By clicking the 'star' icon in the corner of your post you ensure it's eye catching and unmissable, with Facebook automatically doubling the width of the post.
   
   
4. Pinning: In tune with Highlight is the 'Pin' feature, with which you can ensure an important post gets maximum visibility and stays right on top of the page. Only one post can be pinned at a time.  It's a great option to lay stress on promotions, sales, announcements, what have you.
   
   
5. Timeline itself: The essence of Timeline is to literally put out the timeline of your company, to list the historic events in its lifetime from inception to present-day. Best to get started on this.
   Check out Manchester United's history, with photos dating all the way back to 1878.
   
   
6. Private message: Admins need to be more vigilant than ever as fans can now send a private message to the page. Messages appear in the Admin panel along with other elements available to admins, such as Insights, Notifications and New Likes, all in one spot. The layout for admins is a lot more organized and easy to get around.
   
   
7. Longer About: The About section has shifted directly under the profile picture, allowing more text to be visible as opposed to the limited 250 visible characters the old design had.
   

A couple of other great pages with Timeline:

Burberry - having put into play all the above mentioned.
Herbal Essences
Coldplay

There's really nothing you can do if you dislike Timeline as so many Facebook users still do. In a field as dynamic as social media where change occurs so fast, it's best to be proactive and make the transition yourself (when given the choice anyway) rather than have it forced down your throat. With 840 million users, Facebook is obviously staying put and if you want your page to do the same, you should embrace the change as enthusiastically as a ravenous predator does its meal.

Good luck!

To learn more about Timeline for Facebook Pages, click here.

the traffic jam of my dad's dreams.

150 Ferraris were supposed to drive down Gulf Road from Kuwait Towers to Marina Crescent on the 18th of Feb, 2012 in honour of Enzo Ferrari's birthday. Only about 50 did.
My dad was a very happy lamb.

The cars all belong to people living in Kuwait.

This was my favourite.

The traffic jam of my Dad's dreams.

I can't get over how awesome this picture is.

At Marina Crescent, the owners parked their precious wares
for event attendees to gawk at.

oo.. shiny

Too much red methinks.

Best seats EVER! : 0

Wonder if the guy in yellow Ferrari will ever see this? He definitely owes me.

Tedx Safat, Kuwait: Ideas Worth Spreading.. indeed!

I wasn't supposed to be attending Wednesday night's Tedx Safat Conference. But I did and it was awesome.
I'd received no reply when I emailed to ask if the event was going to be held in English. My friend Sahar (who blogs about her experiences in Kuwait on Eternal Joie de Vivre, go check her out!) found out that it was. Problem solved.

Thank God I emailed, because apparently you had to pre-register. An event organizer asked for our names to tick off a list and I thought with a sinking feeling that I wouldn't be able to sit for it. But it was there!! *fist in the air* (awful rhyming was unintentional, my apologies)

And what did I think? Read on for a succinct account on what each speaker communicated. Words in italics are their words (or close), not mine.

We walked in and found seats just in time to see the first speaker, Dr. Saad Hamad Al Barrak take the stage and start his speech on 'Leading Change', the essence of which was that the purpose of leadership is to impact change. He explained this concept through John P. Kotter's change model below.

I loved his definition on delegation, 'it is nothing but a loan of a power of authority'. An illusion of power if you will.

Dr. Ghanim Alnajjar was the UN Independent Expert on Human Rights in Somalia, appointed by former UN Secretary General Kofi Anan. He specified that without equality there was no stability and that might and right are never too often on the same side. Seeing the destitution and war-torn lands one wonders, do we live in the same world? The UN did not allow its people to travel by cars in parts of Somalia; the areas were so dangerous and riddled with land mines that workers actually had to use small planes! Tragically the situation in Somalia is far from light, with 300,000 Somalians internally displaced and living in camps.

Sulayman Al-Bassam blew me over. A world-renowned playwright, he tries to foster open-mindedness through his plays. He brought to light the fact that people prefer to express in English, fearing to do so in their native tongue. In 2003, when Iraq was invaded, there were mixed feelings of joy and trepidation in the region - joy at the attempt to overthrow a dictator and trepidation because, well, war is a terrible thing.
He wrote and directed a play in Kuwait at that time, casting Kuwaiti, Iraqi, British and American actors, in an attempt to promote kindred feelings amongst people and put the torrid past behind them. A terrible thing happened on opening night - one of the Kuwaiti actors suddenly died of natural causes backstage while the performance was going on. A member of the audience somehow got wind of the death and announced on stage that the Iraqi actors had 'killed our compatriot'. A ripple of shock went through the audience (the TEDx one) as Sulayman made his point, that in less than a minute, the man had poisoned the idea that we were trying to promote. It was a lesson on how difficult it was to change a society. Questions we ask through our art should help support an open society.

Hussaa Al Humaidhi was a ball of energy! Her fantastic slide show was perfectly synchronized and well coordinated with her speech and the message she wanted to deliver. Her presentation was titled From Frustration to Collaboration to Inspiration (Connecting the Dots). The 'dots' were represented by four creative individuals (in her speech as well as on the slide) frustrated (frustration occurring 'when things are out of your control') with the lack of inspiration in Kuwait, travelled to different countries to find it. They then decided to take matters into their own hands and here's where the collaboration comes in. They founded Nuqat, meaning dots in Arabic, an organization that offers individuals the chance to bring out creativity within the region, taking care of the inspiration factor. They realized too many young designers in the Middle East were uninspired and just mimicking the West. With Nuqat, these entrepreneurs want to encourage designers and other creative individuals remain to true to their Arab identity and find that spark here. She signed off with the well-known and extremely apt quote: Never wait for inspiration, hunt it down with a stick!

Sheikha Intisar Salem Al Ali Al Sabah founded and runs a publishing house. At a bookstore in a neighbouring Gulf country, she noticed the store had books on most countries of the Middle East... except Kuwait. So, she set out to write one! She interviewed Kuwaitis that had made a real difference in the country and through their passion, found her inspiration. She described their contribution in a slideshow while quoting each of them.

I liked the way Mrs. Maha Al-Ghunaim (founder and MD of Global Investment House) began her speech, by stating quite frankly that she moved to the States for Bachelors in Engineering, because it seemed right, as her siblings were engineers. A year later she switched her major to mathematics because she loved it and hated engineering. Move where your passion is. After completing her degree, she moved back to Kuwait in August to look for work. An HR manager of an elite investment firm told her to go on vacation to Switzerland with her parents and that they didn't hire women (scumbag company). Twelve years later, I became the boss of his boss. YEAH!! *round of applause*
She ended saying something simple and profound that I've pondered on a lot in the past two days, and I hope I never forget it. At the end of each day, think, 'did I give it my all?' Give the best you can be at that point to everything and do it regularly. She ended with the quote: Giving it your all, is not too far from victory.

We left then, her words echoing in my head.
Actually, they still are.

I hope someone uploads the videos on youtube, I'd love to hear Sulayman Al Bassam's speech again as well as the last two we missed by Dr. Ahmad BouShehri and Khaled Al-Kulaib. Kudos to Dana Al-Hilal and her team for a wonderful event and the fantastic choice of speakers. I was completely unaware as to the brilliance of these people. The message each one of them gave, especially the latter ones has touched me differently. Why do we need to look to world famous, far removed personalities for motivation when we have very worthy ones right here?


Note: I tried to get their words down verbatim but it wasn't possible for all. If any of the above mentioned ever read this (hey it could happen) and feel I got the wrong idea, I am profusely sorry, I was lost in your awesomeness : (

(If you'd like to see pictures, check out the ones by The Dusty Co. here)

a much overdue and awesome trip to Failaka.

20 years in Kuwait and I had never been to Failaka. It was time to change that. Went to the Failaka Heritage Village with Maeve, an old friend from school (my oldest one, our friendship is ancient) and her friend Kayo who was visiting here. Ever since I heard about the Greek ruins on the island I've been dying to see them!

The ride in the catamaran was rejuvenating. I discovered my sea legs were not fully developed.

Bye bye mainland

The sea's got its bling on

someone asked why I took this.
is it not obvious?

Once there we were taken to the hotel in a minibus. The receptionist gave us a map, directing us to the restaurant Ikaros for lunch and informing us of a tour at 3 pm at an additional cost of 1 KD. The Greek ruins were not open to the public unless you had special permission from the Kuwait National Museum. That sucks.
The island was called Ikaros by the Greeks back in the day (324 BC or a few years later). It reminded them of another island of theirs in the Aegean Sea by the same name. Sentimental much?
The hotel was pretty cool with a touch of the old Kuwait, atleast what it must have looked like before the modernization fever hit the country.

Yup old world window alright..
if you ignore the ATM outside.

3-dimensional picture! It's too bad so few of these (the actual
building not the pic) exist today.

We stepped outside to explore before heading to the restaurant for lunch (we had to be back at 3pm for a tour of the island). It was pretty awesome! This is a little startling, almost every pic below brought to mind some fantasy/movie/cartoon.

Lantern: I'm thinking of that scene of Harry looking at musty
books in the library in Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

                                       

the tree's central location reminds me of
The White Tree of Gondor

umm.. Sleeping Beauty going up
the staircase to prick her finger?
No? Okay no.

my mind draws a blank at this one.

the courtyard, blank again

from the first floor. Kayo said the sheets reminded her of
Aladdin. I love people that relate Disney to reality! :D

Lunch was surprisingly good. There was a buffet with fatoush, mutton biryani, chicken majboos, spaghetti and meatballs (untouched), rice and dakoos (untouched), jelly (untouched) and my absolute favourite Arabic sweet dish muhallabiya. There were other dishes too but none worth remembering.

We went back to the reception to take the tour. First stop was the Iraqi tank cemetery. For some inexplicable reason, it reminded me of the elephant graveyard in the Lion King (I'm beginning to think that I may have watched Disney movies too often as a kid). We only had about four minutes here before the driver tooted his horn and everyone rushed back to the bus. I strayed for a minute trying to cram in more pictures that I had neglected to take. That one minute of solitude there was no sound but that of the wind, blowing through the derelict, rusting, once terrifying machines of death and destruction.

anti aircraft gun

killing machines

Someone please enlighten me as to what on earth
this is.

When we get wowed by war museums and admire the destructive machines on display, how often do we allow the grim realization to dawn on us and reflect on how many lives those may have taken? Wiped out towns? Stolen innocent civilians' rights to a peaceful existence, caught in the crossfire of political differences?
Probably never.

Next stop, the camel farm. First out of the minibus, I ran upto an enclosure containing camel mommies and their young. The herder keeping guard at the gate ushered me in, advising me to make no sound with my camera. I went in noiselessly, standing among the camels but never behind them, afraid of getting kicked by a stray hind leg o_O Pretending I was a wildlife photographer, I managed to capture a tender moment between a mother and her child.

That one.

Those eyelashes are the envy of every woman.

                             

What a soppy grin!

                                   
We were then driven to an area that had a hotel. When the Iraqi army invaded Failaka, they kicked out the residents and used the buildings for target practice.

Hotel rooms.. dozens of them.

Buildings riddled with bullet holes, the place was a ghost town. It was eerie being in such close proximity to empty, ramshackle houses that were once full thriving with life. Almost every house seems to have had a decent sized backyard, such a rarity now in Kuwait.

What's left of the bank.

The crooked man's crooked house (from the nursery rhyme)

Of course, this being Kuwait, it is imperative that one encounters a BlackBerry Pin no. exhibited somewhere, even if it is in the middle of nowhere.

Or in this case, a 'Bin' number.

It was 4 pm by the time we got back; we had to clear out by 4 30. We had just enough time to take a quick peek at the market wares, all handmade in Failaka. Great place for souvenirs!

Metalwork: a doe. We bought stags.

The sheesha tile cracked me up xD

This awesome stuff wasn't on sale :(

And then we were shooed out.


I have a bone to pick with the organizers: I understand high tide being at 4 45 pm means we have to leave then, but WHY on earth must the catamaran leave so late (12 30pm!!) from Marina Crescent? That's 45 minutes going, arriving on the island at 1 15 pm, having to report to the hotel at 4 30 pm to leave. That's just 3 hours 15 minutes minus the one hour that goes in the tour if you opt for it, equaling a little over 2 hours to explore on your own. NOT ENOUGH!!

The way back, I nearly fell overboard trying to get pictures of the Kuwaiti skyline by nightfall. Deciding I had taken enough photos (hundreds) and that whoever wanted to see the same could very well find them on Google, I went inside and firmly parked myself on a seat where there was no danger of meeting with the chilly Arabian Gulf.

For more information on the cost, how to get there etc. visit the website.

Howdy 2012?

My instinct couldn't have been more right when, on the eve of New Years Day 2011, it whispered to me that this was going to be a year of promise and that there were great things in store for me.

It was honestly the BEST in a long, long time, only ups, no downs.

But I didn't feel anything this time. There was no excitement, no adrenaline rush. Only a dim curiosity as to whether I grew at all as a person the past year. I did a bit, I became a little less reticent because of which I met some truly wonderful people.
I didn't believe any of the hoohah about the world ending in 2012, but just brooding about an Armageddon (not necessarily at the end of this year), death in short, made me wonder if I was ready for it.

Definitely not.
During the course of 2011 much of humankind was subject to some natural disaster or the other, it was hardly any less of an apocalypse for those that died as nature took its course. We all have a vague inkling that we could kick the bucket at any time, which is why we prepare bucket lists, selfishly obsessed with living life to the fullest. In the end, most of our lists are quite shallow. Which is okay, but they shouldn't remain thus. How many items on our lists would benefit anyone but ourselves?

Two days post New Year's, at the risk of sounding emo (and a little cheesy), I have finally come up with something simple, something worth keeping. I won't call them all resolutions, but the timing is ideal, as it gives me a year to track my progress.

1. Remember back in kindergarten your teacher encouraged you to perform three good deeds everyday? I don't remember doing that in forever. No, I'm definitely not a total self-absorbed moron. But I would like to be more altruistic.
2. Never. Stop. Learning.
3. Exercise complete capabilities and mental faculties in the execution of a task. 
4. Continue having awesome experiences and meeting awesome people.
5. Read more classics. 
6. Get published. 
7. No rice. No bread. Which is going to kill me 'coz I friggin' LOVE bread.
8. Dream. Write. Blog. As soon as an idea creeps into my noggin... WRITE IT DOWN!!

This should do for now. Since my instinct is silent on the subject (which is a bit of a letdown), all I can do now is continue taking things in my stride.

Tracking the progress made on the resolutions (these were resolutions) made on the dawning of 2011:

1. Find a job by Jan end.
Well, I didn't find a job per se. By mid-year, I altered the deadline to Dec end (still no job). But, I got into freelancing for social media marketing, got some experience, earned some dough. That's got to count for something.

2. Move base to a country where I know no one and no one knows me. And keep it that way.
   And if THAT doesn't work out, visit atleast ONE country that isn't India, Kuwait or the UAE.
Needless to say, the first option didn't work out. BUT!! I visited, not one, not two but SIX previously uncharted lands! Uncharted on my map anyway. The Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria, Hungary, Germany and Turkey.

3. Write something remotely decent that'll throw the world into shock and awe.
I'm going to tweak this one a bit. I wrote this, which is definitely my best piece so far, and though it isn't published anywhere except on this blog, it received a lot of adulation from the people in my world.

4. Make memories doing something totally unconventional, innovative, avant-garde. Things so thrilling, I'll never have trouble remembering them and will relish the thoughts of. Coz life is too short to be taken seriously.
Euro trip, bungee jumping. 'Nuff said!

5. Never, ever leave home without the camera and take a picture every time the thought 'I should take a picture of that' crosses my mind.

Arghh. There were many instances wherein I cursed myself for not carrying my camera. So let's not count this one.

4 out of 5 accomplished. That's pretty good. Best track record so far! =D

I hope I stay true to the ones made for 2012. Here's wishing you all a very Happy New Year.

Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad

Talking about Jane Austen in Baghdad: The True Story of an Unlikely Friendship by Bee Rowlatt
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The book's title is slightly misleading, as there is barely any talk of Jane Austen or literature for that matter. It contains nothing but a three year long exchange of emails (upto October 2008) between two women in opposite ends of the world, one an Iraqi English literature professor (May) in Baghdad and the other (Bee) a journalist with the BBC in London. It seemed dull at first, and as my sister put it when she read the book, intrusive, as though you were violating the women's privacy by reading their personal emails.
But then you get caught into their lives by witnessing the blossoming of a true friendship and the bond that develops between them, and you're struck by the stark contrast of their lives.

In almost every email, May talks about death, insecurity and instability in the city after the US invasion but never fails to add words of love to her 'sister' (Bee) and her 'nieces' (Bee's daughters) and her longing to see them. Bee, on the other hand, talks about the joys and trials of motherhood, her work and her husband while asking probing questions as to life in Baghdad before and after the US invasion, May's work and her students, her husband's family and Islam, while at the same time offering comforting and compassionate words to ease May's troubles. What I liked a lot about the book is that May answers Bee's questions intelligently and honestly, helping dissipate any stereotypes the reader may have about Islam, by firmly establishing the fact that Islam and tribal law, (the latter which governs most regions in Iraq) are completely separate of each other, even though most people consider them to be synonymous.

You're also struck by the strength of the Iraqi people who having been subject to so much adversity for the past 30 years, still stay rooted in their faith, traditions and culture despite the curfews, bombs and bullets.

In the face of May's trials, Bee's complaints of her daughter's 'weeing' may seem trivial but I think it is the normalcy of her friend's emails that strikes a chord with her, helping her to get through her daily routine. Similarly, the sadness of some of May's emails touches Bee and she realizes how small her afflictions are in comparison and attempts to do everything she can to get May and her husband out of Iraq.

I would have loved to read more about May's classes in the university and her teaching methods, but all in all it's a good read, if you can bear to read May's horrifying (some eye-witness) accounts of the terror reigning in Baghdad. You really feel for the civilians living there stuck in the inferno and wonder how people can be so merciless to their fellow human beings, for no reason whatsoever except for a difference in faith or political opinion.


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