To Be Frank

The captain announced a few hours ago that there’s Internet available on this flight. At first I was kind of happy but then I was like, “What am I going to do? Tweet?” I have my good trusty book and super fast typing fingers, just in case I want to get my thoughts down somewhere. But I have to type this post out pretty quick since I’ve got only one hour on this thing. By the way, it’s the first time I connect my laptop to the Internet while over the Atlantic. Kind of cool...

I know I’ve neglected this blog of mine for a while but in my defense, it has been on my mind. I always think, “Hmm, that would be something cool to blog about.” But as a professional procrastinator and expert in time mismanagement, I put my thoughts and nonexistent posts on the back burner. Until now. But it’s almost Christmas and the New Year is coming up, so I guess I have no excuse huh?

“Don’t you ever feel that you’re running out of time?” I asked my husband as he drove me to the airport. At 26 (and a half), I still feel like I want to do and more specifically, accomplish more things. “I used to feel that when I was your age, but I traveled and lived where I wanted. I’m pretty happy where I am now,” he replied, sounding content. I smiled. For me, it wasn’t about traveling around the world or going on shark feeding trips near southern Africa (who does that? I still cannot understand why anyone would do that. Not the shark feeding bit per se. But in general, to travel to a relatively dangerous region in the world and be surrounded by wild animals that have the option of gnawing your face off. Why? I will never understand that).

Yeah so anyways, I think it’s more about doing. I don’t know but I guess a part of me is so afraid of regrets. In general, I’d rather regret doing something than not. I mean, if I do something, whatever it is, it might do me good or it might hurt in the short or long run (or both). Then again, I’ll learn from that experience – as cliché as that sounds – and know exactly what it feels, tastes and sounds like. I guess I’m afraid of running out of time doing things that I might or might not regret. But what’s the use of life if you don’t experience every bit of it? And I don’t mean it in a hedonistic way. Sometimes, I feel like that my comfortable routines start to turn into annoying, boring ruts. I have this strange sense to shock myself into feeling something again, something extraordinary that’ll make me reel with joy, fear and wonder. So I might experience something I have always wanted to do but I was afraid to. Sort of like snap myself back to the grit of life by break dancing instead of doing the two-step.

Oh great I have 40 more minutes on this thing. Resolutions. Well, I think I’m sticking to mine this year. “What are your resolutions?” I asked a good friend of mine yesterday. “Same as last year’s: lose weight,” she replied glumly. I’ve borrowed some resolutions from years before while a few are brand new. Let’s see how 2012 will turn out. I don’t like being optimistic (because if I am there’s a higher probability of being let down) but for some reason, I have a good feeling about 2012. Maybe because it’s an even number. I like even numbers, in general.

As for you, I wish that this New Year will be good to you. More than good even; breathtaking and inspiring. I wish you love, peace and wonderful, magical moments. I wish you the world.

at 8:30 AM 4 comments

آه يا كويت

at 8:30 AM 2 comments

Happy Halloween!

People who know me know how much I love Halloween. Actually, love probably isn't the best word to use here since I'm pretty much obsessed with it. Ever since I was young, my eldest sister and I would plan months ahead for my Halloween costume. Until today, my friends still ask me, "So, what are you going to be this year?" I tell a few of my friends but I keep others guessing so as to not give it away completely. My first major costume was when I was 12. I was "The Queen of Death." I was very much into classic movies and I loved corseted dresses that had a lot of volume due to the wires supporting them (think Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind). My dress was all black with black feathers at the hemline that was about a meter away from my feet. I wore a black blouse with feathers at the cuffs. I painted my face and hair white and found a perfect black and silver mask. It was magnificent. I remember people saying that all they had to do to know where I went was follow the trail of black feathers that were still around a year later, not in hallways but nestled amongst the leaves and such at farther locations and corners in my school. Needless to say, I am going all out this year as well. Last week, my mother asked me where I was heading. "The tailor!" I replied in a very cheerful tone. As usual, she rolled her eyes and smiled knowingly, "Halloween?" In the spirit of my costume, I did a little graceful dance.

I hope you enjoy my Halloween playlist. Happy Halloween everyone!

The Eagles - Witchy Woman
Fred Schneider - Monster (in my pants)
John Zacherle - Dinner with Drac
Creedence Clearwater Revival - I Put a Spell On You
Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Moon Rising
Warren Zevon - Werewolves of London
Bo Diddley - Bo Meets the Monster
Bobby Pickett & the Crypt-Kick - Monster Mash
Blue Oyster Cult - Don't Fear the Reaper
Carlos Santana - Black Magic Woman
DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince - Nightmare on My Street
Ray Parker Junior - Ghostbusters
Jimi Hendrix - Voodoo Child
And no Halloween is complete without this:
Michael Jackson - Thriller

at 8:30 AM 8 comments

The Magnificent Kuwait Maritime Museum

After another lovely dinner at the wonderful 10.Oh.8, my husband and I felt that we needed a little walk. This was about two weeks ago, so the weather was not as pleasant as it is now. Plus, it was unusually muggy. Anyhow, we got in the car and drove around Sharq. We decided to see if there was a gallery in the Museum of Modern Art, but something far bigger caught our eye as we made our way down the sandy, bumpy road. There were two large dhows beside a small-ish building. It turned out to be the Maritime Museum, something I have never heard of before. We walked in and were stunned by the building’s modern interior. In general, the museum showcased every element of Kuwait’s past i.e. before the discovery of oil. The set up of the displayed pieces was very well done, with both Arabic and English explanations of each piece. Please excuse the quality of pictures; I took them using my BlackBerry that is great for typing and not much else.
























Click here for more information about the Kuwait Maritime Museum and how to get to it. Here's to the men and women of our past:

Bahri
Adsani
Makhmus
Hesawi

at 8:30 AM 2 comments

A September of Kuwaiti Entertainment

Unlike some people, I like to stay put during Eid. I especially look forward to the morning of Eid. I wake up early, get dressed and feel funny (in a good way) when I drink my freshly squeezed orange juice during my drive to my grandmother’s house. Speaking of family, I got myself four tickets to Zain’s play that was held at the ice skating rink, “Zain to a Beautiful World” (here's a little clip). I went there with my sister and my three-year-old niece and five-year-old nephew. Since I did not buy the tickets in advance, we were located in the middle section. My sister had her daughter in her lap and I had my nephew in mine in order for them to see through and over people’s heads. Apart from the unnecessary sale of toys with lights that the children played with before and during the play, the set up was well organized. The play, based on Oliver Twist, was very entertaining and from an art directional point of view, very well done and thought out. The actors were great as well; I especially liked the performance of the actor who played the role of the thieves’ leader. There were only three things that I particularly did not like:

1- The lead actress was Shojoon Al Hajri a.k.a. Shooji. She played the role of the boy called Zain. Although she looked like a boy with her baggy shorts, shirt and newsboy cap, it was quite obvious she was a girl. In any case, I brushed it off until my five-year-old nephew who was sitting on my lap turned his head toward me and asked, “Why are they referring to that girl as a boy?” At that point, I really did not know what to tell him. He obviously picked up on the fact – God bless his soul – that Zain/Shooji is a girl, not a boy. I did not want to confuse him so I told him, “Yes you are right, she is a girl and they are calling her as a girl, not a boy.” I still wonder why they did not use a male for the lead role or even referred to Zain as a girl since technically, Zain is both a boy’s and girl’s name.

2- This is a quick summary of the play itself: Zain escapes from an orphanage and joins a gang of children who make their living pickpocketing. After living with them for a bit, Zain is found guilty and brought to trial for stealing a woman’s watch. Zain is acquitted and the woman whom he stole from pities him and takes him home with her. While Zain is enjoying his caring, new mother figure and big bed in the mansion, he helps the authorities to catch all the gang of thieves – including their leader – who he was once a part of. The story ends with the thieves in jail and Zain lives happily ever after with his rich pseudo-mom. Now, I understand that stealing is wrong. I also know that being a snitch is not something commendable. Why couldn’t Zain just shut up and live decently with the woman who took him in? If he recognizes that what he did was wrong i.e. steal, why does he feel compelled to blab about the group he was once a part of? The moral of the play was not as black and white as I would have hoped it would be.

3- The play is by Zain, the telecommunications company, and it is called "Zain to a Beautiful World" based on the main character who is a boy called Zain. During the play, there were images projected on the backdrop and half of them had those little, Arabesque looking flowers that you see in every other Zain advertisement whether it is in a newspaper or on your TV screen. I personally thought that that was a whole lotta Zain to swallow. For some reason, the producers thought they could highlight Zain's presence even more by squeezing in a TV commercial from last year, specifically the one that featured the giant (you can see it here). The bewildering bit is that they did not even bother to drop the Zain logo that appeared at the end of the commercial. Subliminal advertising is sly but smart; forcing in a TV commercial that does not relate to the content of the play is just plain unnecessary and tasteless.

Speaking of boys gone wild, my husband and I went to see Walid Al Awadhi’s Tora Bora. The only thing that I can say is that I loved it. Although it dragged a little bit near the end and a bit of the dialogue was out of place (I do not think any mother no matter how “Kuwaiti” she is would fret about her pills after she was forced out of a van packed with Afghans), I commend the director and writer for this magnificent and brave piece. If you have not seen it (don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for you), the story revolves around Kuwaiti parents (their older son follows them later on in the movie) who travel alone to Afghanistan to bring back their youngest son from the Taliban’s training camp in Tora Bora. I walked in there thinking it was one of those 40-minute Kuwaiti films, but the movie stretched to just over 1.5 hours. The locations where the movie was filmed were breathtaking and the truths behind life in Afghanistan were heart wrenching and humbling. When it comes to sad, romantic even joyful scenes where two people reunite, I cry. Yes, I am a crier. And boy did I cry in Tora Bora! Near the end, when Saad Al-Faraj hugged you know who (who, although we did not see a lot of him, acted really well), I was gone. My tears streamed all the way down to the sides of my neck. Thank God I just had mascara on otherwise I would have been a mess. There were two main messages in the movie: jihad does not mean that someone can violently harm another human being because he/she has the divine right to do so and two, look after your children so as to keep them away from negative, harmful and manipulative people, groups, etc.

In many previous posts, I have mentioned that I love good movies, from old classics to foreign films. Before I watch any movie, I Google it, read about it and the reviews it received before I designate 1.5 – 3 hours of my life to watch the film. I had a very hard time getting the movies that I want, especially the ones that I watched when I was younger like Glenn Ford’s Blackboard Jungle or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I was hesitant about ordering them from Amazon.com and right now, I am not ordering anything from them since I lost two packages and the better alternative – having my things shipped to me through my Aramex account – is not worth it since right now, Aramex’s fees cost just as much as the purchased items. In any case, I asked friends and family if they knew any legitimate DVD dealers. I think I saved nine on my phone but alas, none of them had what I wanted. None of them except one: Mushtaq. I came to know of Mushtaq about two years ago. Although our conversations never drifted away from the subject of DVDs and what to watch, I appreciated his honesty, gentle ways and promptness. I even appreciated the fact that he never sold me a movie that he knew was a bad copy. Apart from his good nature, he was the one who gave me each and every single movie that I wanted including one of my favorites, Singing in the Rain, a film that my husband knows but never saw. So it was no surprise that I was deeply saddened when I received a text message from his eldest son who stated that his father died of a heart attack. And that is why I dedicate this post of Kuwaiti entertainment to Mushtaq, since he is the reason why I spent many nights at home watching the greatest and most memorable movies that I will cherish and treasure forever.

Here are a few songs from my favorite movies:
Singin’ in the Rain: Gene Kelly – Singin’ in the Rain
Rosemary’s Baby: Mia Farrow – Lullaby
The Wiz: Mable King – Don’t Nobody Give Me No Bad News
From Diner: Elvis Presley – Don’t Be Cruel

at 8:30 AM 3 comments

Recipes: To Share or Not to Share?

For a while, I used to scoff at people who kept their recipes to themselves. Whenever someone asks me what ingredients I used in the dishes I cook up, I promptly scribble down the recipe or simply email or text message it over. A friend of mine once asked me, “How do you make that great chicken dish you served the other night?” I smiled, happy that I can make someone else happy with my culinary concoction. My friend was happy too when I shrugged and told her that life is too short, so why not share the love? I typed up the recipe and emailed her the next morning. A while later, the same friend threw a wonderful dinner with friends. When I asked her about the ingredients of one of the dishes on the dinner table, she smiled coyly and replied, “I can’t tell you.” I frowned and smiled awkwardly, as if I exposed a dark secret. I felt used and taken advantage of. “I gave her my mother’s recipe and she wouldn’t even hint at any ingredient that was in her dish!” I told my husband when I returned home in exasperation. I was so upset that I could not sit down. I knew that it was not personal, but I was hurt! “You know what?” I huffed, standing with my hands on my hips, “I vow never to give anyone any family recipe!” The moment I said that, I felt slightly more calm and at ease. That is, until a very good friend of mine called me up a week ago. “Erzulie! I gave my in-laws what remained of that fabulous salad you brought yesterday night. Do you mind giving me the recipe to your salad dressing?” I cringed, sensing that same feeling of dread in my stomach. Since she is a close friend, I felt that I could afford to be honest to the point of being blunt. “Look honey, I would love to, but I know that recipe will soon make its way to your in-laws’ handful of restaurants. So I'm sorry, I can’t.” It was close to dusk prayer, so I was already tired and grumpy (read: I did not feel like sugarcoating my little speech). Once I said that, my friend grew quiet, “Oh, really?” I sighed, “Yes, really. I had a really bad experience with sharing a recipe and not getting anything in return. I do not want to go down that road again.” Now I am no Martha Stewart but I do have some fantastic family recipes up my sleeve. A part of me feels crappy about being greedy and not dishing them out to anyone who asks especially close friends, but another part of me feels that it is my right (dammit!) to choose what to share and what to keep to myself. I mean if anyone asks me to make my amazing apple pie, it will be my honor to bake the thing. But to share the secrets of how many pinches and sprinkles of what I add to my dishes? That just feels too close for comfort. I guess some people are the same way with where they shop for clothes or jewelry, where they dye their hair or which dermatologist in LA has the best Botox. For me, it starts and ends at the kitchen. Is that such a bad, bad thing?

MP3's...
Chris Isaak - Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing
Three Dog Night - Joy to the World
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Give it a Away

at 9:00 AM 7 comments

30 Days of Lazy Chaos

Maybe it is the scorching weather or the lazy boredom that comes with August, but I am not feeling Ramadan this year, specifically the pre-futoor bit. I think I might have started out the month of goodness on the wrong foot, precisely being blown away by the ridiculously high prices of the not so good traditional women’s gowns (dara’a). I went to quite a few exhibitions. It is not about being put off by the millions of gaudy, glittery fabrics that went into one calf-length gown and the balloon-shaped cuts and styles that would even make Gisele look like a dumpy, frumpy clown; it is more about the prices. A note to le designers a.k.a. ambitious chicks with a team of Asian women whose sewing skills kick butt: people are not so stupid anymore! Some girls – like me – do not have to be great bargainers to know the real price of what a specific fabric costs per meter. I saw a dara’a at one exhibition and the next day, I dropped by the cloth souk in Kuwait City with my sister. There, I saw the same exact cloth for KD 1 per meter. The dara’a at the exhibition cost KD 85! I still remember that darned night. It was 50 degrees Celsius. As an avid walker, I usually park farther away from my main destination, and that is what I did when I went to the cloth souk. Unfortunately, that meant I had to walk through and in between the rows and rows of cars that jammed the cloth souk’s parking area. Anyhow, I walked by one car and I think the driver had just turned on the ignition. I was suddenly hit by the car’s hot air (I think it came from the motor or something). I am, in general, all right with dry heat. I would rather have that than humidity which makes me sweat like heck and have untamable lion hair. But this air was something else. Coupled with the oven-like weather, the blast almost knocked me over. The only way I can describe it is that it was like the devil’s fart. It was something out of this world.

Speaking of tummy-related issues, I have been trying to get back in shape. Well, I am in shape but ever since I returned home from my short summer break, I have been feeling a little lethargic and bloated, probably because I walked my rear end off every single day during my vacation and now I am back to the same short distance walk to and from my car. I enjoy going to the gym but deeply regret signing up to a women’s only one, mostly because of the cringe-worthy stares from quite a few women (think Ellen DeGeneres meets Rosie O’Donnell) at the place. So I walk around the neighborhood and the other evening after futoor, I hopped on my mother-in-law’s cook’s bicycle and rode all the way to the co-op to use the ATM machine (which was not working) and to get some pepperoni slices to make a nice, crisp pizza. “I really want to bicycle all the way to work someday,” I told my husband afterward, although it was more like me thinking out loud. “You can,” he replied. Although I know that I technically can, I know he would not like the idea of me weaving through the morning traffic. But I still want to. Maybe if I get up bright and early on a quiet Friday sometime in early December, just maybe…

MP3's...
Capricorn College Brass - Capricorn College
The Beatles - Here, There and Everywhere
Billy Joel - Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

In memory of Annette Charles a.k.a. Cha Cha DiGregorio:
Sha Na Na - Blue Moon
Sha Na Na - Born to Hand Jive

When I was young, I was obsessed with Grease. Apart from loving the dresses, I knew (and still know!) all the songs featured in it. My heart skips a beat when one of the songs of the movie's soundtrack starts to play whenever I put my iPod on shuffle. I always wish it was nighttime and that I would be driving alone on a highway so I can sing like no one's watching (which is usually the case at night with the exception of Ramadan). When I was a pre-teen, my cousins and I were so into Grease we actually videotaped ourselves singing Grease Lightening, Look at Me I'm Sandra Dee (in PJ's, wigs and pink rollers) and You're the One I Want. And the latter scene is what my peers and I performed in our talent show senior year. Actually hold on. I think I am still into it. I mean, I still love the songs and just this summer, I bought a 50's-style red dress with black polka dots (I love polka dots!) AND a black petticoat from a punk-ish store (kinda looks like this). I do not know when and where I will ever wear it but it sure feels good to twirl around in it!

at 8:30 AM 2 comments