Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams

The week-end begins on Friday here in Kuwait. Invariably we sleep late on Thursday nights and so Fridays are the days when we lie in a little longer. They are lazy days without pressure, except for the Friday prayers at noon. 

This particular Friday though was different. The first born, Daughter ‘Z’ courageously breaking with a quarter century (her entire life) of tradition, made plans with some friends to go running on the beach, around half past eight on Friday morning. Now 8 am on a Friday morning, would not be considered as an early morning by those who wake up early and exercise with religious zeal, but for us lotus eaters it was a revolutionary, in fact a most radical decision. 

Her enthusiasm was infectious and motivated me to shake off the layers of laziness that had collected upon me since October, like cobwebs and dust that covers places which have been neglected for a long time. 

We left home without pulling back the curtains to see what kind of day it was and were surprised to come out of the building and be greeted by a thick fog. Now fogs in Kuwait are just about as rare as early mornings on Fridays are for us, and so we could tell that it was going to be one of those days, with a surprise at every turn. Well we were up, we were awake, we were out and we were game for surprises and adventures. So off we went. I did expect the fog to dissipate in an hour or so but it seemed to be clinging to the atmosphere with a very determined grip and so we set off for a new experience, walking with the fog now clinging to us and droplets of water condensing on our hair. 

Daughter Z found her friends where they had planned to meet, near the fountain at Marina Crescent, which is exactly what its name conveys, a crescent shaped building besides a marina.


The Crescent is linked to the main Marina Mall, which lies across the Gulf Road (Kuwait’s Corniche), by a covered pedestrian bridge. The Crescent itself has only restaurants, most of them with with outside seating and is a pleasant place to sit by the sea and eat. 

Food though was far away from our thoughts at this moment. As daughter Z joined her friends, I thought I would have a brisk walk along the promenade towards Scientific Centre and get some much needed exercise, which would dust away the cobwebs and my diabetes. We both were exuding zest and vigour and raring to go.

I did find it strange that the sea-side, despite its ghostly appearance, was vibrantly full of people. Perhaps they were following set routine, or then they had come out to experience the novelty of walking in a fog. I would not know, those who tend to hibernate know little of the habits of wakeful creatures. 

I began walking briskly along the promenade, avoiding cutting across the grass to take shortcuts and for a few minutes all went well, then I spied a group of date palms rising eerily out of the fog. I had left my camera behind but the trusty iphone faithfully recorded the sight.

So I continued walking picking up pace and then slacking each time a new sight attracted me. The curve of the promenade,

fishing rods waiting patiently,

a fisherman

The ghostly pyramid of Hard Rock Cafe looming up,

Which normally looked liked this

Some trees in their Halloween best

bare trees which were sprouting new life,

A pretty gazebo


All seemed to attract and had to be documented.

I suddenly passed the group of my daughter’s friends, who were returning from their run. She was nowhere to be seen, not even panting in the distance as I had expected. The youngsters passed by quickly before I could decide to question them and I panicked for a moment wondering how I would find her. Turning back just a few paces away from my goal, I decided to go look for her. My battery was entering its death throes, I called my daughter but she did not answer.

I am a paranoid mom and within minutes get deluged by the scariest thoughts. As it turned out that there was no need to panic, the running group did not leave anyone alone once they had got together, till they all went their separate ways. She called back and said one of the group had stayed behind to train her and now she was living my mental image of panting but only by running in circles.

I reached a grove of date palms and was pleasantly surprised by a sweet but vociferous sparrow choir. The air was filled with their chirping. A solitary bulbul determined not to be left out, added her sweet tones to the music. Her tantalizing song seemed to come from a tree but she was well hidden and I could not spy her. I just drank in the glorious moment with all its beauty. Soon I continued walking and met up with my daughter and we walked back to the Crescent.

I decided enough was enough, we had broken with tradition we held dear for most of our life and it was now time to revert back to type and open our arms to re-embrace our hedonistic lifestyle. The restaurants with their inviting breakfasts were waiting in a row for us. Without a thought of undoing all the good done that day, we decided upon one and sat outside, enjoying both the people and the sea-side.

In the middle of our breakfast we noticed a number of men and a couple of women wearing Harley jackets.

By the time we had finished our breakfast, we heard a number of bikes revving up on the road close by. We hurried with the crowd that had now collected and saw the Kuwait Harley club all riding out in a row.

It was quite a sight to see these magnificent machines in all their glory.

Later they were exhibited by their owners. We walked around taking pictures.



I took a picture of a Harley with roses, which was owned by a Kuwaiti lady.

The world here is so small, I posted the picture on Facebook and one of my friends commented that she knew the lady very well and she had been riding for a very long time.

We were loathe to end the day and crossed the bridge to the mall to indulge ourselves further, with a spot of shopping. The first smell that greets a person who enters the malls from the bridge, is of cinnamon rolls, tempting hapless visitors to give in to their gooey sweetness. Fortunately I know the word ‘enough’ and resisting temptation, I let the sleeping dog called diabetes slumber on.

After more than an hour of shopping, we returned home, exhausted but happy and proceeded to fall into bed and sleep for hours.

The apt title ‘Freaky Friday’ was suggested by daughter Z.