I feel the need... for Prozac

HandyMan had a very frustrating day yesterday. When one has to deal with the bureaucracy that is Kuwait, it can turn into a nightmare which requires Critical Incident Stress Debriefing, a long massage, and Prozac.

This is not like at home. He sent me off to work and set about doing errands. First off, there are 2.5 million people all trying to get somewhere at the same time using a road system designed for about 150,000 cars and herds of camels. Since changing jobs, I've realized what most of Kuwait has to put up with in negotiating the traffic here. Only the schools begin early. Everyone else saunters into work at the same time I do. 10-ish.

Unfortunately in this round of errands, HandyMan had to travel all over the city - from Riggae, west of Salmiya on the edge of the desert; then to Auto Lease on the 4th Ring Road, then over to Hawally, which is a nightmare at any time (even Freddie Krueger wouldn't do well in Hawally); then he had to go to Shuwaikh. This is the Free Port, and opposite Riggae to the East. All of this through traffic jams, fender benders, and impatient delivery trucks. Poor man.

He managed the first two errands without too much difficulty because he can stay on the outskirts of the city to go to Riggae, and Hawally was handled with aplomb (mostly because he drives like a Kuwaiti), and then he made his way to Shuwaikh. This is where it all went pear shaped.

When we leased our little ZipZip, it had a single key without the electronic gizmo in it. I insisted on getting the 'real' key because I am not going to be locking my car by hand when everyone else gets to push a button and watch the car flash its lights and toot obediently. Anyway, HandyMan stopped at Auto Lease on the 4th Ring and got a map to the Peugeot dealer in Shuwaikh ("Right next to the old IKEA") and zipped off to get the key. He found the place without difficulty (he's good at reading maps) and discovered that there were two possibilities - "Parts" and "Service." Thinking the key was a "Part" he found the door and asked the counterman for his key.

"I can help you with that, Sir."

"I'm here to pick up the key to my car."

"What are you driving?"

"A Peugeot 307."

"One moment, Sir."

Ten minutes later, the counterman returned to inform HandyMan that the key had to be ordered from France and would take approximately 10 - 12 days.

"10 - 12 days!?"

"Or maybe 1 week. I will check."
"No! The key is already ordered and I was told to come here and pick it up."

"Already ordered, Sir."

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"Have a seat, Sir, I will check."

"How long will that take?"

"One minute, Sir."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks."

At this point, HandyMan was directed to a seat in the reception area. A Teagirl promptly appeared.

"Something to drink, Sir?"

"No, thank you."

"T------ ----?"

"What? Maybe bottled water?"

"No water, Sir. Tir---- ee?"

"What? No thanks. Pop?"

"No pop, Sir.

"Tea?"

"No tea, Sir. Tirkiss Caufee?"

"Oh! Turkish coffee?"

"Yes Sir! We have."

"Sweet?"

Yes, Sir. Sweet"

"I guess I'll have sweet turkish coffee."

According to HandyMan, it was as awful as he feared. If you've never had Turkish Coffee, don't unless you have it on good authority from someone who likes Turkish coffee that what you are about to drink is good Turkish Coffee. Otherwise all you're doing is sipping sludge and chewing coffee grounds. Very disgusting. Could put one off coffee for life.

30 minutes later the counterman came back to inform HandyMan that the key did indeed have to be ordered and he was all prepared to take the required information to accomplish this task. At this point, HandyMan was somewhat frustrated and impatient and insisted that the key was already here. He. Had. Been. Called.
[It is impossible in situations like this not to speak slowly, increase volume, and lean forward slightly. None of which helps because the issue is not deafness but language. Nevertheless, we all do it... and generally feel bad afterwards because it somehow impugns the intelligence of the people who actually run this country. They aren't deaf or stupid, they just don't speak English very well. *sigh*]

"The key is ordered?"

"YES!"

"It is here?"

"YES!"

"Maybe it is in service, Sir. You try there?"

So HandyMan found the door for the Service Department and started again. This time he had more success. Eventually, the service man found the electronic key.

"Where is the car, Sir?"

"Outside on the street in front of the Parts Department."

"Oh. That is very far." (Anything other than right out front is "very far")

"We will need the car, Sir."

"I should go get it?"

"We have to program the car, Sir."

 HandyMan eventually got his gizmo (which looks like a mini switchblade - instead of a blade, the key pops out). Then they wouldn't give it to him.

"Please to give me other key, Sir."

"I have to give you this key first?"

 "We will keep it here."

Apparently in Kuwait it is impossible to have two keys to the same car. Argh!!

All those "Sirs" get irritating. I don't know if it's because we Canadians aren't accustomed to the deference, or if it somehow disturbs our general belief in the equality of all men, or if it's just the repetitiveness... in any case, poor HandyMan was exhausted, and given our current location, I was unable to provide much more than soothing pats on the hand. No way to offer real recovery since that comes in a glass with ice. :)

Seed thoughts

MathMan posted an entry to which I was going to add a comment, but found the comment growing into an entry of my own.
'Had we eyes to see..."

Funny, that. I was just reflecting on what we don't see. What I don't see. This reflection started after reading a book of pulp fiction (a "Penny Horrible" as my mother called them) by Dick Francis. Now there's nothing particularly pulpy about the writings of Mr. Francis - in fact, in my opinion, they're perfect. Not too long, often have a bit of a twist, and always involve horses. What's not to like?

But back to my reflections; the protagonist - in the book newly finished - is learning to fly. He makes the observation that he ceased to have difficulty with the properties of air when he considered that water (H2O) and air (OH2)are hardly different - except one can be seen and the other not.
So I've been thinking about air. "Swimming" through the air... breathing air... displacing air. Watching the air pick up a plastic bag and waft it away over the treetops. That led me to thinking about viscosity - how the bugs we called 'Boatmen' could skate across the surface of Bear Lake, and how planes fly. We watched a military helicopter at lunch today, skimming across the water following the coast line, and I thought about air being like water...only invisible.
I still couldn't SEE air, but I could actually comprehend on a non-mathematical level how the helicopter moved. And that thought flowed into the reflection that water washes and air purifies...both of which functions have deep and abiding significance in spirituality.
MathMan's reluctance notwithstanding, I infinitely prefer the personal pursuit of spirituality (being for me, synonymous with God) to the formalized rituals of religion. Water contained becomes stagnant and air fetid...

The photo is of dolphins - creatures who use both water and air to full advantage.




Photo taken by Christina Schultz off the coast of Vancouver Island (Ucuelet), British Columbia.

SO Canadian

"This was an incredible ride that none of us ever expected. I thought we were going to do this quiet little show in the middle of a wheat field, and probably no one was going to watch, but that'd be okay because - hey - we'll just make ourselves laugh. It's like when you decide to throw a party or a BBQ, and you expect a dozen people or so, but instead, a couple million show up. Good thing we had enough to go around! From all of us, to all of you... Thank you for coming to our party. We had a blast."     - Brent Butt

Check out all things 'Corner Gas' 

It seems obvious on the face of it, that the person chosen to represent Canada's interests in a foreign country would be, well, Canadian. Of course, I'm not speaking of citizenship because that is a happenstance of birthplace. I'm talking about truly manifesting the essence of what it means to be from the Great White North. Bob and Doug McKenzie moved south (all the good comedians are Canadian) and for a lot of financial gain, provided a picture of Canadians that we have never shaken.

But that's the interesting thing about we Canucks. We didn't even try. We went around mocking ourselves, mimicking the sounds, actions, and repeating the innuendos of the boys from PoDunk NoWhere Saskatchewan. Or maybe they were from Screech, Newfoundland. I forget. In any case, they aren't the only Canadians who have made it big in the US by taking advantage of the ridiculousness of the things people believe about Canada. We did, however, produce some pretty stellar specimens in many different fields (Can you say, "Wayne Gretzky?" or "Michael J. Fox?" Oh... and one for the men - "Pamela Anderson?").
I am coming back from the Bunny Trail now.
This blog got started last week whilst attending a soiree at the Canadian Embassy. Our current ambassador to Kuwait, Reid Henry, is a likable and personable guy. When HandyMan commented on Reid's name tag, which read "Embassy Staff," our Ambassador told us he 'does anything needed' at the Embassy. HandyMan wondered if this was akin to the pilots of WestJet flights leaving the Seat of Power during stopovers and taking time to vacuum the plane. [We actually witnessed this first hand] That started a whole round of hilarity about the essence of being Canadian.
The funny thing to me (and the eventual point of this blog) was in listening to the man our Government had determined is qualified to practice diplomacy in this area of the world talk about doing the job. Reid is educated (duh), experienced (obviously), and committed (he lives here) to Canada's interests. And he's sitting in a chair telling HandyMan that his guilty pleasure in Kuwait is in the Audi he drives. Apparently in Canada he drove "clunkers" but as the top Canadian in Kuwait, he warrants an Audi. He loves it and revels in the opportunity to drive here, but his pleasure is washing the car on Saturday mornings basking in the cachet of having an Audi. The guilty part is that he has to do it while the houseboy is still in bed.
We laughed as Reid described sneaking out on Saturday morning to wash his car. VERY few people here do anything for themselves (including those expats who've lived here a long time) and when the houseboy catches Reid washing his own car, the poor man is horrified and takes it personally as an indictment of his care of 'Sir.' Ambassadors do not wash their own cars.
The whole conversation caused me to think on "being" Canadian for a few days. It has been quite the eye-opener for me to experience Canadianness outside my own country and culture. But it's been a pleasant discovery. We Canadians are highly regarded in the wider world. Hoo ha.  What is often perceived as an inferiority complex which is assumed by others as a result of sharing the world's longest undefended border with a country that considers itself the Center of the Universe is actually self-effacement. We Canadians do amazing things (can you say "BlackBerry?") but we do it quietly and generally without fanfare. Reid Henry embodies the ethos of Canada (well, maybe most of it. The Newfies have to represent themselves-they are uniquely Canadian).
He even speaks French.

photos:
'Canadian Flag' - Globecraft
'Corner Gas' - courtesy CTV
'Ode to a BlackBerry' - FatoOma