Ruby

Ruby came into the K’s Path shelter about a month ago, and I instantly fell in love with her.  Don’t tell them, but I would sneak into her kennel on the intake wing on my way past to the kitchen, and give her a pet and a hug.  Truth be told, she reminded me very much of a Lab/Collie cross I had when I was in college, who was devoted, and obedient, and gentle and kind.  It broke my heart that I couldn’t bring Ruby home to be mine, but I was very grown up about it, and told myself that it would be ridiculous to get another dog now… after all, we’re sailing out of here at the end of the year (Insh’allah), and the two dogs we already have is enough on a boat.  So I took a photo to publish on FB, in the hope that one of my friends would take her. But I never published it, and I don’t know why.

Then Ruby was let out of the medical wing (where she’d been spayed) and put on the main wing, where I was then privileged to be able to walk her.  Oh those eyes.  They were piercing me right through my heart.  I so wished I could help her with more than a feeble walk.

Da’afsha, on the left, is running out of energy; at 9 years she is a fine age for a St Bernard Cross!

And then, one afternoon, as I was watching our 9 year old St Bernard Cross try to walk in peace along the beach, as Kaliya was haring along behind her, side swiping her and nipping her, all in a vain effort to get her to run some more, I realised with a nasty jolt that Da’afsha won’t be sailing out with us.  This year, she had a burst of energy when Kaliya arrived at four months of age, and she did an amazing job of raising him and teaching him manners; but she has started to wear out much more easily again now.  She is slowing down.  I have shed a few tears every day since, but dogs come and go.  They always have done.  And most that landed with me for their time were pretty lucky (if I do say so myself… but I usually remember to feed and walk them, which is a bonus).

So, a new plan was needed.  Da’afsha clearly needed a break from this adolescent dog – since she is Great Great Grandmother age, she shouldn’t be having to entertain him any more. It was like a light went on, so I told the husband I wanted to temporarily foster a dog to take the pressure off Da’afsha.  His response?  ”Stop bull****ing me.  You know as well as I do that if you bring a dog into this house, then that dog will be staying forever. So get used to the idea that you’ll be stuck shovelling shit non-stop off the deck.”  I love my husband.

I spent some time the next day at the shelter with Ruby.  She clearly had issues with doors and cats.  Her tail was down and her ears were back a lot.  She refused to stay on command.  She jumped on furniture in a frenzy. She jumped on people in a frenzy.  But then, as I sat down in the office with a calculator, she sat loyally at my feet.  And if I moved she followed me.  And she seemed to be learning commands (sit, lie down) really fast.  I figured she had potential.

So, I arranged to foster her for two days as a trial, and went home to tell the other members of the household (our lodger and Dive Boat Captain!)…  And I voiced my concerns honestly, but they seemed to think that any dog who came to our house would slot in just fine, and couldn’t understand my worries.

So, back I tootled to the shelter, walked ten kennels worth of dogs, and set off for home with sweet, submissive Ruby, who climbed from the boot to the front seat, decided she didn’t like the A/C then sat in the passenger well behind my seat.

And then, when we got to the garden, she turned into the bitch from hell.  Seriously.  She went straight for the top dog position, and spent the entire first afternoon snarling ferociously and air snapping at my dogs.  My heart was in my throat, I was truly worried I had made a mistake.  But we gave them space to sort their issues, and the next day when I came down for breakfast, she was romping with Kaliya.  They were still fighting occasionally, but it felt safe to take her for an off lead walk now, so I took her to the ‘swamp’, where she mostly followed the other dogs at a safe distance.  Bloomin ‘eck, I thought… if she wasn’t gonna play, it was pointless bringing her home!!

But by Day 3 it was sorted.  She quit trying to fight for everything, and just chilled out and accepted her place at the bottom of the pack.  We went to the beach and had a great romp.  Day 4 and we went on a neighbourhood walk followed by a sailing trip overnight to Kubbar, and she handled it fantastically for a first-time sailor.  And today, Day 5, I dragged my husband out to the stream, and I truly do believe we have found an amazing new dog with a lot of potential. She sits, lies down and stays on command. She has stopped jumping on people (touchwood).  She has nearly stopped biting at our heels.  She can sit and wait without being held back before being given the command to eat her food.  She doesn’t need a lead for most walking we do, since she stays to heel whenever asked.

And most importantly, Da’afsha is enjoying her walks now, without being worn out at the end of it all.  She can enjoy the occasional prance, and then spend the rest of her time foraging for any scrap of food which might have been left behind, and rolling in the muckiest muck she can find!

So, fingers crossed x

Gifts for God

This minaret water cooler is at the other end of my lane. I am amazed I never noticed it before I started photographing them!

In my last post about water coolers, I was fairly cynical about the reason there are loads of water coolers all over Kuwait, which have been given to the people as a gift.  Well, whatever the reasons, I truly appreciate those gifts when I’m out walking the dogs… It is great being able to refill my bottle and give the dogs some in a collapsible bowl I carry.  Anyway, my good friend Adil visited us yesterday, and he told me a very nice version of the same story.

We had been discussing the shelter in Wafra, and Adil told me it was very good what I was doing for the shelter.  He asked me about who started it, and I told him about a couple of teenagers we taught to dive back in the early part of this century (or was it the end of the last?); and how they had lost their young sister, Dalal in a car accident.  A tragic accident, involving several young kids from the riding stables.  Well, the older sister, Ayesha, started a much needed shelter in Dalal’s memory, which was very fitting considering her love of animals.

These replicate the giant water towers that line our expressways in clumps of five.

Adil said it was a beautiful act of goodness to make something in another persons memory, which will go on to help others to live after.  He explained that is why there are so many water coolers, because the will go on giving water to those who need it. As one who needs it fairly often, I’d like to thank everyone who has donated a water cooler somewhere in the world.

New version of the traditional house.

Home made casing for older stainless watercooler. I think these have more character, and I love the setting for this one.

The First International Catamaran Regatta

The weather was shite.  High thirties (or thereabouts) and blue sunshine all day.  In fact, the weather couldn’t have been worse for a Regatta.  For starters, the two day event had turned into a one day event because of the introduction of Ladies Day on Saturday, since it had just turned May!  Not unexpected, since it happens every year, which does lead me to wonder why the race hadn’t been organised for the last weekend in April, rather.

Edit: James is our main man, who has put a huge effort into developing the club, and most recently rebuilt some older boats, which I had thought were beyond hope, and making them look new.  He said, on Facebook,  in response to my opening paragraph: “If the regatta were any sooner me and nick wouldn’t have had the boats ready in time, we only just managed to do it in the time we had, and everyone including the kuwaitees forgot about ladies day.”

My response is: “It was rude of me not to say that in the first place, cos I did know those reasons. Sorry And yes, it was a great day, thank you so much for putting such whopping effort into developing the club. You rock!”

Thanks very much to James, Nick, Donna and Emma who put in a huge amount of work for the regatta; and to John and Vicky who also do valuable work.  It is going so well now, and is a wonderful place to be

Photo: James Laken

Enthusiasm levels were high, much higher than the wind levels; and Race One got off to a fantastic start.  I can’t really remember much about it, except that the winds were light, and we only started about fourth over the line… a minute and a half after the horn (Marc and I have horrendous disputes about where to place ourselves at the start line… In light winds I want to be close, in anticipation of having difficulties even getting to the line, but he wants to be far away in order to get momentum.  He always wins these disputes – since I allow him to be Skipper, I have to respect his decisions.  Hmph)!

We were blessed as we hardened up around a downwind mark, and James and Emma luffed up.  Our hearts went out to them, but it meant we could shoot past.  Meantime, the Kuwaiti team (who haven’t raced cats before – they’re experience is mostly on lasers) were neck and neck with us; as were the Bahraini team who came up especially for the event.  And there my memory blurs again, the next recollection I have is of us crossing the line first, due to the Kuwaitis having taken the tack for the finish too early I seem to recall.

Fast forward to Race 2.  The winds disappointed us by easing up even more, but we had a fantastic start.  Although we were a little late over the line again, we caught up well, and by the time we were round the first triangle, had secured first position again, with room to spare.  And the we hit the downwind mark, and Marc hardened up as we went around.  And hardened up some more, and some more, and went into a luff, and got stuck.  Exactly as James had done in Race 1.  Bugger.  We lost three places there.  Now it’s my turn to share the blame.  In order to get out of our luff, we tacked.  Since we had tacked anyway I suggested we stayed on this tack.  The tide was with us, and theoretically pushing us back towards the mark.  That was mistake no.2.  Those who stayed on the port tack had more wind as they got out to sea faster… which simply widened the gap before we hit the mark, and with only two legs remaining we didn’t have time to catch up.  So we crossed the line fourth.  Devastating.  That gave us a cumulative score of 5 (since we had a 1 and a 4); the same as James and Emma, who managed to pip the Kuwaitis at the line which they ran straight to, whereas the Kuwaitis tend to do two broad reaches (that takes them over a greater distance, but sailing faster).  The Kuwaitis had two seconds, giving them a score of 4.  Damn, they were in the lead.

11pm, and break time, so the moslems could go and pray.  Whoppers and Chicken fillet on the beach, and then a kip on the trampoline, cos boy was that a long, still break.  Three hours of break.  A light breeze.  A Race Organiser who sat with a deadpan face and told us to chill and wait for the postponement flag to come down. Revolt on the beach.  Nick (a support boat handler on this day) removing the postponement flag.  Boats back to the sea.  A first leg set about 50% further away than it had been on the first races.  Many comments to that effect.  Race started.  17 minutes in, race abandoned.  Victory to the Kuwaitis.

How annoying is that?  Very, cos Marc and I were clearly in the lead on that third race, with James and Emma off to our leeward, and the Kuwaiti boat hard behind us.  That one race could have changed the entire standings.  So personally, I am unhappy with the results.  But that is why regattas are normally held over several days, with at least six races. But it was all clean sport, and completely within the rules, so we simply skulked back to the beach, growled at the poor organiser (OK, I accept it wasn’t his fault), stuck our tails between our legs and went home for a shower; ready to return fresh faced for the awards ceremony later that evening.

Hopefully there will be more photos appearing on Facebook, and I’ll pinch them as they do appear and add them here (with full credit, if that’s OK) since I didn’t have my camera, since we were so busy concentrating on winning!

Free Water

In Kuwait, I have heard it said that there are two guaranteed ways to heaven (which I believe is attained if you are a person who does good).  If you have lots of money, then you build a mosque.  If you don’t have lots of money, then you provide a water cooler.  So today, when I was walking the dogs, I got the urge to start taking photos.  Unfortunately, when I took this first one in Salwa park, there was a litter of kittens not 5 metres away, and the dogs were pulling on the leads, so it’s not very focussed, but you get the idea.  Yup, it’s a water bottle, which most visitors find quite amusing!

Typical Ministry Cooler

Second up is the standard ministry issue version.  At least, I think it’s Ministry issue, cos these are the ones you get in the Public Gardens (aka parks); although this one is just down the street from me.  There’s one the same in Fintas Gardens, which has a metal dog bowl chained to its leg… quite unusual in a country which detests hounds, but I once met the American couple who used to walk a pair of floormops there (I think they may have been Spitzes) who chained it in place.  That was years ago, and it’s still there.  We used it today!   Thanks very much to that couple, if you’re reading this!

The Traditional Kuwaiti House

Next up, then, is the Traditional Kuwaiti House. This one is right outside Fintas Gardens, and is designed to resemble the traditional, simple Sunni architecture which was commonly found in Kuwait when houses were made from clay!  I just found out today that those stick things which stick out were a gutter, designed to run water off the flat rooves here.  It doesn’t often rain, so most rooves are flat, and used as storage space for water tanks and old furniture, so when it rains the old houses all leak.  ALL of them! And I love those solid doors.  We had a similar one as our gate in Salwa, but Marc wouldn’t let me bring it when we left – he said we didn’t need a door that wouldn’t fit anywhere other than that gateway (it was arched, to be fair)!

Water Urn Cooler

Next, then, is the urn shaped cooler, which is again down the road from us (Kuwait is great – unless we’re going out into the desert, you only need to take a half litre coke bottle, and you can fill it as regularly as you like)! This is fairly self-explanatory, I think.  Of slightly more interest is the one on our very own corner.

Haj Water Urn

It’s in front of the house over the road, and is a replica of the water bottles that pilgrims bring back from Mecca… It even has a lid!  One of my students who went on haj about ten years ago brought me back one of these bottles, and explained that it was filled with holy water.  So, I never completely emptied it… I also left some water in the bottom before refilling it.  But it leaked all over my handbag the one day, so I took it out and put it somewhere safe, and haven’t seen it since.  Shame, but even though I can’t remember that kid’s name or face, I’ll always remember that water bottle!

Anyway, that’s all for today, but I am going to try to remember to photograph more coolers, and I’ll tag them with ‘Water Cooler’.  Just in case you’re actually interested!

Tourist Stuff in Kuwait

About two months ago, Bahiya from Texas hit town with a big, huge splash.  By that, I don’t mean she makes a lot of noise (on the contrary), but rather that she makes these amazing ripples which affect those around her, and in a very positive way.  So it has come as a shock that she’s leaving after this weekend, even tho we always knew she would!

Anyway, that meant that having procrastinated for two months, I finally got round to taking her to a few of the places we had missed.  Coincidentally, for Bahiya’s last weekend we also have a couch surfer staying with us from Canada.  She is called Denise, and she has couch surfed in 175 countries.  She clearly gets waaay too much leave!

Sadu House is the fancy one at the back.

We started with Sadu House, a rebuilt traditional Kuwaiti House, which contains a museum of Sadu weaving.  In fact, Sadu is the traditional Kuwait term for such weaving.  Anyway, it’s pleasant. But new, and very clean.  Fifteen years ago, the Kuwait Textile Association used to hold their monthly speaker meeting there, and the plaster was falling off the walls, there were holes in the floor, and it was ‘real’.  Oh well, mustn’t complain.  If it hadn’t been rebuilt, it would have completely fallen down by now, and there would be a glass office complex in it’s prime place in front of the sea, so it is great that the Kuwaitis are preserving their heritage.

Anyway, Bahiya and Denise are standing outside its plain Shi’ite neighbour, which is more typical of the typical Sunni architecture traditionally found here.  Beit Sadu was apparently built at the same time, but by Sunni Muslims, in the early twentieth century, but destroyed by floods in 1936.

Bahiya inspects some beautiful lace.

Anyway, from there we moved on to the fabric souk, where Bahiya practised her recently acquired (and quickly learned) bartering skills in a few stores, buying some black cotton with Arabic text to make an Abbiya, and some lovely black lace, which I think she’s going to have made into a kaftan.  The lace she managed to get down from KD16 to KD12 – very impressive for a newb!  And, what’s more, the store keepers all seemed to thoroughly enjoy dealing with her.  Now, I get that they have to smile at their customers if they want to sell anything… but I’m pretty sure they were quite happy to be screwed by her!

Now, ain't that sexy?

We also found some amazingly guady fabric… and at KD70 a metre, I am amazed they manage to sell any of it at all!  It was a sort of chiffon, with strips of man made leather attached.  Apparently it goes down well with the locals.  Denise tried on a sample, which I thought might make an awesome grass skirt at the next Caribbean night… but the guy refused to allow me to take the half metre remnant off him for a dinar, so I don’t think I’ll bother!

Anyway, from there to Indian Heritage, where nobody was very impressed with either the stock or the prices (although I did get my awesome padded, green, embroidered jacket from there for only KD5 a few years ago); and then we had to call it a day to get Bahiya back in time for work.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted!

Say Shisha Souk Three Times as Fast as You Can!

It’s not that easy to decide!

Yesterday I took my good friend Bahiyya to the Shisha roundabout in Hawalli.  I’ll be honest, my heart sank when she told me she had been looking at the internet, and that there was supposed to be a roundabout in Hawalli where you could get the best pipes.  I knew that.  About 15 years ago I bought my first shisha pipe from there, and it is the best place to go.  But I think I had been encouraging Bahiyya to buy a pipe in Fahaheel from the tourist shops, on account of the traffic being so nightmarish in Hawalli.  Hell, my best friend Nara lives there, and I’m a really crap friend and only visit her maybe once a year, on account of the traffic being so bad there.  But, we went.  And I’m glad we did, cos I love the Shisha Souk in Hawalli, it’s neat.

And one of the things I love best about visiting the Shisha Souk with Americans is that they all freak out about taking them back to the States, on account of the rule that says you can’t carry drug paraphernalia through customs!!  Well, anyway… Bahir was a little bit worried about that, but I think mostly on account of how she was also hoping to smuggle a special cigar back to her friend as well… I wonder if she did in the end?

I just realised I don’t have a photo of the lovely black crystal bowl she eventually bought to take with her… It’s not for her, of course, it’s for her daughter!  Although we did go back to my house to practise firing one up, and even though mine hadn’t been used in about 10 years, it was fine (with a little bit of duct tape where the pipe bit had split)!; but I have no idea where my apple shisha went… so we had to open up her daughter’s grape and mint.  Yummy!

Sailing with Too Much Wind

Wouldn’t ya know it, the most interesting storm we have had in years, and I forgot to take my camera, so I have stolen an image of yesterday’s weather from my mate Waleed’s Facebook page:

Today's Sandstorm from the fast lane

Whilst Waleed was busy taking this photo from the fast lane of one of Kuwait’s Expressways (although I suspect traffic wasn’t actually driving that fast at the time, since our lunatic drivers do tend to slow down for rain and sand), Marc and I were out sailing in 30+knots, and visibility of a hundred metres.  That was quite an experience!

When we left there wasn’t sand in the air, it was just a really windy day.  And after Kaliya’s success on the boat yesterday, we figured it’d be good to try him in a blow.  And he was a big baby. Alternated between trying to hide behind my bum or between Daafsha’s front paws, and going off to explore with his tail up.  Since I wasn’t sure how sound his footing would be, I gave him Daafsha’s life jacket, since Daafsha just spends most of her time in the cockpit when the heavy weather sets in.  It drowned him, so I’m ordering another one from Amazon today – they’re only $20, and free shipping thanks to a very special friend with an APO!

The cockpit - Daafsha's favourite place, for sure! This was yesterday, with no wind!

Anyway, it was a pretty cool sail, we were doing over 7 knots average under a furled genoa alone. But first it came over cold, and poor Marc gets quite miserable when it’s cold, and then dust followed and reduced vis to just a hundred metres or so, so after an hour and a bit we decided to turn around .  Going back was quite worrying, of course, and we both kept a sharp lookout for hazards, such as the navigation buoys, oil pier and coastguard ship which is moored up, and which wasn’t sounding a fog horn (fair enough, neither were we)!

The sea wall, when it loomed, did so quickly, but fortunately our marina is in the shelter of the oil pier, so the sea was fairly flat.  And the marina also provides some shelter from the wind, so whilst I had been nervous about going in (the sea isn’t usually a problem – it’s the rocks and other hard things that cause most damage to boats!) berthing actually was a relaxed affair with no problems whatsoever.