Confused (and rightfully so)

The conversation went something like this:

Cute Jordanian Taxi Driver: You are the second Malaysian I have met here (in broken, heavily accented English)

Me: Oh really? Does he look like me? (in an effort to keep a conversation)

CJTD: Your eyes.

Me: Huh? (Confused)

CJTD: I like your eyes...

Me: Huh... (totally confused by now)

CJTD: I may be like your eyes most...

Me: What the...

My colleague: (After clarifying with the driver in Arabic) Oh, he thought you asked him if he likes you!

Me: Oh...

CJTD: Your eyes are beautiful.

Me: (Mute)

Damn! :)

Thoughts

It's amazing what you think of when you are all alone in a foreign place. You think about the things that you have never thought of for the longest time. (what do psychologists say about using the third person again? hmmm...) I (well, now I am switching to the first person... hehe) thought of my late sister who passed away 10 years ago. I thought of my mother, who had a stroke exactly two weeks after my sister died. I thought of friends whom I have lost along the way, intentionally or unintentionally. I thought of my first. I thought of the cruelest partner I ever had (it's his birthday today). I thought of all the things that used to get me all sad and angry. And yet, when I think about them now, they are just thoughts, with no judgments attached. Like watching a documentary of something unrelated to you. Clinical. If only that could be the feeling when you were going through the events. And I switched to the third person again.

3 weeks of sand, sand, shopping

Yes, it has been 3 weeks since I landed in this land of sand. And I am still not used to it. To the landscape, to the culture, to the people, to the food, to the everything. I am still dazed. And daze is not good when you are doing consulting. You need clear mind for that. It feels as if there is a fine layer of sand (well, what else?) over my brain. Can't think clearly. It's like walking in a shroud of something. What the hell is going on? This place is full of paradox. Pockets of luxury - I feel as if I am in Palm Springs, or Melbourne in some areas; and the rest of it barren land..well, sand..whatever. Impossibly rich people - the number of X5s and Cayennes and Ferraris on the road, amazing; and oppressively poor migrant labourers - they look so cold and miserable and beaten, with thin layer of cotton shirt on in this 15-degree weather. It is strong in its Islamic culture, yet at the same time their practices are not. To say the least. There is nothing to do, so I stare at the sand, and I shop. In case you wondering, I am in Kuwait. And I have to be here for another 3 very long weeks.