It seemed fitting that the first Arabic word we were taught at the airport was “al-hamdu-lilah” which means “thanks to God.” We are very grateful for safe travels and for such a warm welcome to our new country.
We left New Castle Sat. afternoon and met Robert at the Indianapolis airport (his flights were goofed up; he had to fly Ft. Bragg to Atlanta, to Indpls & on to Dullus with us.) Joy & Steve dropped us off in our van which they graciously agreed to store for us at their house. All our 14 checked items (including a trunk & my new rolled plastic table coverJ) were happily weighed & loaded by United staff who were very understanding of our PCS move & extra baggage allowances. We then proceeded to the USO lounge where military families are provided a place to relax when traveling…the warmth of the welcome unlocked my tears and walled off emotions over our impending departure into the unknown. The Indianapolis Colts are a major contributor of the services provided there: computers, stocked refrigerator, drinks, comfort food, cushy recliners and reminders of the country’s appreciation for the work of the military.
Our first flight was a small jumper plane & Emily got a bit panicky in the exit row as we recalled images of the plane sitting in the Potomac so recently! It didn’t help that I discovered my emergency vest was missing from under my seat. With no time to spare, we landed & rushed to our international flight which was already boarding.
The flight to Kuwait was completely full but Robert got us upgraded to Economy Plus which meant we had 5 extra inches in our row; this was a huge benefit allowing a bit more stretch room for our 11+ hour flight. Our flight attendants got very frustrated as they tried to get all the Middle Eastern passengers into their seats so we could pull away from our gate. Robert said his Kuwaiti flight was an hour late departing last time; they are not too concerned with schedules it seems. We were 45 minutes late in leaving. Other than the Arabic translations and a scattering of military members, the flight was pretty routine. I was too tired to do more than watch “The Soloist” eat, and sleep. The girls barely slept at all. I woke as my TV/map screen showed us flying over Baghdad and Robert assured us we were high enough not to be concerned! As we neared Kuwait, our view was obstructed by a milk chocolate haze that blanketed the city; we learned there had been a bad sandstorm on Wednesday.
Before even hitting the restrooms to freshen up, we were met by “Sammy” holding up a name card. In the toilet, we were surprised to find half the stalls were “normal” and half were just a drain in the floor like we’d seen in poor European areas. After mopping up our oily faces, we emerged to what felt like a catwalk to reach the passport control desk. We tried not to stare but discovered the curiosity was mutual! Our gaze was met by sheet wrapped men with artfully wound wraps on their heads. Female eyes and some exposed faces scanned our family. While there were some other Westerners, a full family was a bit rarer. We trailed Sammy who I discovered was an “Expeditor” from the Embassy. He hustled us to the front of the line where he knew all the officials. For our brief wait, he had people move seats so we could sit together. As we chatted, I learned he is Egyptian and has 5 children “al-hamdu-lilah.” He was pleased we had 3 children and “not just one like many Americans.” He let me take his picture with Emily & said he would be our first friend; I told him he might be on facebook and he replied he could be our friend there too! I thought it was so kind of him to meet us on the weekend; then I remembered it was a workday for him, Sunday begins the workweek here.
Our bags were loaded by porters who delivered it to a waiting pickup truck. We were met at the curb by our sponsor, Bob, who drove us to our hotel and briefed us on the intricacies of tipping in this culture. He admitted to being a bit jaded after 3 years here and advised us to just tip the minimum required: “no matter how much you give them, they will look at you with disgust, not gratitude. If you give more, the Kuwaitis hate it; it’s hard for them to get service as the porters always prefer gullible Americans & Europeans.” We rode drop-jawed past exotic architecture & dessert topography as we wove in & out of traffic on very modern roads. When we were cut off by a car quickly exiting in front of us, Bob assured us that was normal: whoever’s bumper is in front has right away. We laughed to see Papa John’s Pizza and Hardees so far from home. This utterly strange place is punctuated by little teasers of the familiar.
Although we’d just woke up, it was 7pm when we arrived at the Movenpick Hotel & Resort, Al Bida’a. All cars entering the hotel were searched by guards, then we had to have our bags scanned by xray & pass security for entry. At check in, Robert & I were each given our personal cell phones already programmed with “husband,” “wife” and emergency numbers. Our spacious, beautifully decorated rooms are on the main floor near the business center where computers are available. Our coffee tables were heaped with fresh fruit and sparkling juice. Our room is stocked with lovely juices, non alcoholic beer, sodas, nuts & snacks which along with room service and all meals, is fully paid for by the Kuwaiti embassy for the duration of our 10 day stay! We gasped at the view from our balconies: just beyond the perfectly manicured courtyard with pools & games, lies the palm tree lined white sandy beach. Molly needed some personal space after so long sharing rooms with siblings, so we let her chill while we scanned Arab TV & had a wander. The air was pleasantly warm by this time and not nearly as miserable as Oklahoma! Ethan & I explored the area & found the swept sand soft to the feet and the water delightfully warm. A few clusters of Arab boys played on the beach, one group of mostly covered women sat by the water, a servant in uniform walked a pajama clad child through the complex, and large families dined on private patios outside hotel “rooms” that looked more like enormous houses.
Back in our room, I wanted to let Dad know we had arrived safely. I discovered that phone calls from the hotel are 5 American dollars PER MINUTE! Ugh. Thanks to email, I got him the message. Internet contact is a lifesaver here when we are still feeling so isolated.
We were welcomed by easy sleep in our comfy bed with the fluffy duvet (just like England) and to my surprise, no call to prayer disturbed our rest.
No comments:
Post a Comment