Hark denizens, expats and locals! This blog is specifically for you! Kuwait's one-stop-shop for Intriguing titles that MEASURE up to the content. From social gatherings to local news, this blog has it all. The main aim of MyBloogle is to give you a good read, leave you with a smile, and hopefully have you tune in once again as a regular reader! Home to the Q8FootSoldiers running initiative in Kuwait!

Monthly Archives: November 2011

Wataniya Woes

It is traditional upon returning from a vacation to be confronted with a few minor hiccups that require immediate attention. You may have a leaky faucet, or the leftovers you kept in the fridge could be a colony of fungus. Whatever the calamity, it is always best to tackle these adversities with an open mind.

Upon returning from my vacation, I was victim to a double whammie. Both my home phone and my mobile phone were disconnected, simultaneously! How did this grave injustice happen? That is not the point, dealing with it however, is the gist of the post.

I have a postpaid Wataniya Line. I set a maximum limit that I am not allowed to cross, to sort of control my calling urges (especially international). I was under the impression that, so long as I did not cross that threshold, I was safe. I thought wrong.

Given that my significant other is abroad at the moment, we converse mainly in the Cyber World, through Facebook, Whatsapp, Googletalk, Skype etc. I do send the occasional text every now and then, so my mobile bill was stagnant for the past 5 months. As it had not approached the limit, I thought why bother to pay now, we’re still in the green.

You can guess my bewilderment at being cut off. I thought, no matter, I will merely log in to my NBK account and pay as I always used to. NBK has a minimum payment of 20KD, so I ok’d the payment and waited.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Nada. Zilch. Nothing. Still barred.

I called Wataniya to give them a piece of my mind, and found out that the payment had not been received yet. I called the bank and was told by a very helpful CSR that the payment would take 3 days to clear, and that if I was in a hurry, I should print the statement and fax it to Wataniya to get them to speed the process up. She had gone above and beyond the call of duty and for that I am grateful to NBK for their CSR.

I did just that, called up the Wataniya guys and faxed em the statement, and instead of waiting for 3 days, it was done it 2. Yipee.

At least now I can call again!

Let that be a lesson to you, never pay any bills through NBK Online, as the delay time will cost you dearly. I even used to pay my home telephone bill through NBK! I learnt my lesson this time though and instead went to the Ministry of Communications website and paid directly through there.

Still waiting on the telephone line to be operational again.

Moral of the story is: always pay online through the proper portals!

Wataniya Telecom


A Writer Writes

Believe it or not, I am a writer, and when faced with frustration, I turn to my fingers to assist me in understanding the situation, much as poison is drawn from a wound after a snake-bite, poison flows from my finger tips, absorbed into my keyboard, illustrated on screen, and banished from the recesses of my psyche.

It is within every writers ability to put a new spin on old thoughts, to tackle a problem from various angles, breaking it down into its meager basic components and analyzing them, sifting through the residue to reach the solid gold conclusion.

Through writing my voice is loudest, for words have a funny way of being misunderstood and being taken out of context. When it comes to writing, one measures a thousand times before committing to cut.

This is a writers blog, I am a writer, and henceforth my grievances and thoughts alike will be shared on these hallowed pages, a sort of penseive if you will, for me to review my thoughts and memories at my leisure.

A vessel for storing memories in the Harry Potter continuum

A vessel for storing memories in the Harry Potter continuum

Read on, and tread carefully, for you are stepping on my hopes and dreams.

Never tell the Truth

Would there ever be such an occasion where it is best to not say the truth? Most would argue that the truth will set you free, and that honesty is the best policy.

They would be correct, however, there are circumstances where it is best to not reveal the truth, to gloss over it in order to help someone cope with a certain situation beyond their control.

And in these situations, the hardest part is waiting.

Sitting in a hospital on the first day of Eid waiting for the doctor to give you news, anything, on someone you love and hold dearly to your heart. You pace, you wait, and you SHOULD give hope to all that arrive later to inquire as to the status of their dear ones. You are not supposed to cough up verbatim what the doctor THINKS and doesn’t know for sure.

Now I know that. I learnt that lesson.

A white lie, told at an opportune time, gives people something they most desperately need; hope.

Thankfully, with the grace of God, all is well in the House of N, it had been a rather turbulent holiday, but ever so often, life decides to throw a curve ball your way to test your mettle. And in these situations, we learn a lot, about ourselves first and foremost, and about our friends and family as well.

Adversity introduces a person to themselves.

Plane People

And we are back in Kuwait ladies and gentlemen after a much PROLONGED delay! Trust that these past few weeks of non activity, or limited activity, have served to replenish the creative juices that flow within the mind of all writers and bloggers, so my untimely break will serve to serve readers with better reads.

And on that point, let us kick off with a short anecdote from the plane ride back to Kuwait yesterday.

There are few things that get under my skin as much as narrow minded people, and that is exactly what I was met with yesterday in a metal tube cruising at high altitudes.

It is a fact of life that we now live in a mutli-cultural world, unless you are some remote goat herder off the coast of god-knows-where, chances are not a day will pass by wherein you are not subjected to a clash of cultures, or a break from traditions.

Now, you have one of two choices, you can either be stubborn and refuse to change, or go with the flow, so long as there is no moral impact in your decision, and that it does not cause harm to others.

So, yesterday on the plane, I found a woman in my seat. At first I was under the impression she had merely gotten her seat mixed, as she was on the other side of the plane (window seat), not mine. She refused to budge. Why you ask?

Simple. There were two guys sitting on the other side. Please note that in this scenario, I was the only person below the age of 40.

Why was this woman against sitting on a plane next to stranger? What, are you under the impression that they might attempt to, heaven forbid, start a conversation with you? Attempt to assault you in PLAIN (pun intended) sight of everyone within a 50CM radius?

If she had asked me politely to take her seat on the other side, I would not have minded, however, I am severely against narrow mindedness, and refuse to be coerced into doing someones bidding. In the end, it turned out that not only was she against sitting next to a stranger, but the man in the seat next to hers was also against sitting next to a stranger of the female gender. Good riddance to both of those mentalities.

The moral of the story is, we live in a multi-cultural world. You cannot force or impose your will on others in all matters, unless you are incredibly, incredibly pious, then you should buy two seats on a plane or any other form of transport to ensure that you do not commit a breach of your heightened moralities.

In short, we are back baby, and ready for another round of investigative bloggerism!

FYI future posts will most likely include references and homages to my significant other, the reason for my prolonged absence from the blogosphere.

Stay tuned!

Did it Really Happen?

So many times in life you pass by moments that, at a later point in time, seem almost too improbable to have actually occured.

Did I really start planning for my future? Did me and my future bride really pick out the finishings for our dream home? Did the meeting of the families really take place? Those are the questions my heart asks.

My mind on the other hand, asks a very different set of questions.

Did I really go to Tahrir Square yesterday night?

At roughly 8:30pm yesterday, my cousins and I ventured toward Tahrir Square, to show solidarity, not anarchy, in face of the peoples demands for reform, democracy and peace.

The night started off innocently enough, with cheers and chants (which we participated in) and an overall feeling of excitement. There were people standing around with bottles of vinegar (for the tear gas) and a spray of water and a a fermenting substance to be used on the face to remove the effects of the tear gas.

breathing apparatus were being sold, as well as goggles. A true one stop shop for reform and revolution.

The general direction of the people in the square was gravitating toward Mohammed Mahmoud St. Had this been a scene from resident evil, I would not have been surprised.

Total darkness. Lights flashing on and off in the distance. A faint, but definite sound of gunfire just out of sight. As the people push forward, the crowd disperses to allow motorcycles to pass through, and at times ambulances. We say many wounded carried out toward the square itself, some unconscious, some teetering on the edge of consciousness.

Later, panic ensued as the air was filled with the acrid white smoke of tear gas. There have been many reports that this “brand” of tear gas is considered a chemical weapon, as it affects all organs, causing some to cough up blood, liver and kidney problems etc.

The closest I had ever been to tear gas was watching it on TV during the reports of the uprisings, and seeing it in movies.

The reality is much, MUCH worse.

The first feeling that engulfs you is a sting inside your nose, and then a burning in your throat as you begin to cough uncontrollably. Then your eyes tear up and you are forced to shut them. It hurts to breath. You cannot see where you are going, people are stampeding all around you.

The good news is, there are people around the square that assist you when in need, there are make shift hospitals, and those that pass out are carried there. I force carried a man infront of me who was on the brink of passing out until we got to safety.

A note however to those that think that only anarchists are participating at Tahrir Square. Or anywhere else for that matter.

There are two types of people at these gatherings. Those that do, and those that add value and send a message. Those that do throw rocks and attempt to retaliate. Those that add value, are the ones that show up to add numbers, for there is definitely strength in numbers.

We were there to send a message. No more. No less.

Politics is a part of every day life. You cannot ignore it, you cannot pretend it is not happening, you cannot hide your head in the sand and hope it all goes away.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

So much has happened in these past few weeks, where to start to explain my extended leave of absence? There are several posts in draft form left unfinished, awaiting a dollop of concentration to bring them to fruition.

For those of you wondering about my current whereabouts, there are two main reasons that have taken over my concentration, one is unfortunate, and the other is worth all the fortunes in the world.

For starters, since the first day of Eid, my dear cousin, whom I love dearly as a brother, had fallen ill and required surgery, hence most of my time was spent in the hospital by his side. The surgery was a success, and he will be discharged from the hospital relatively soon, and then the healing process can begin.

That was the unfortunate event.

As for the fortune, as the title describes, the bell shall toll for me soon…

Wedding bell that is.

When you find that special someone,,

dedicated to DivaUndecided.

MyBloogle’s Leave of Absence

Fellow bloggers, readers, and inquisitive minds.

First off, Eid Saeed to all.

Second, MyBloogle will be posting on an irregular basis for a while, as a result of an injury in the family. There are tons of ideas floating about in my head at the moment for articles to write about, and some are already in the draft stage.

For any in Kuwait, or an returning to Kuwait after the Eid Holidays, do pick up the November issue of Bazaar, and have a looksie at pages 46 & 102 respectively.

Writers Blog slogan VALIDATED.

The Folly of Youth


Whilst at the Market earlier this month,walking amidst the sea of black robes for women, of different shapes and sizes, designs and patterns, meant to represent the traditional garb of the Arab Woman, something strange happened.


All of the sudden, my breath caught up in my lungs, and my eyes unfocused, gazing off into the distance, at something and nothing in particular, as I was transported back to a time of youthful indiscretion.

How often as a child when accompanying my parents to the Market I would break off from them to explore this strange world of cloth and color. Given my size and height at the time it was very easy to run in between the rows of clothes, much to the chagrin of the shop keeper who seemed to take offence to this innocent exploration. It felt like walking into the wardrobe, half expecting to land into some distant fairy tale land on the other side.

Every shop posed a new world to explore, an adventure to be had. Clothes Hangers were carried as weapons, and any hidden nook or cranny was sought as a possible location for a hidden treasure. Useless objects were picked up off the floor and used to fuel the imagination, little bits of plastic that are of no monetary value or of further use to anyone were prized in the eyes of a child.

If only it were possible to continue viewing the world through such innocent eyes, instead of accepting the harsh reality that there is no magic in the world, there is no Santa Claus, no Tooth Fairy, no Unicorns of any other creatures of Myth and Magic.

It is our pursuit for knowledge and understanding that causes the fabric of belief to crumble.

For example, as a child, I remember my family driving out of Kuwait during the Gulf War. We passed through several tunnels at the time, it was my first experience with them, really long ones, and they seemed to lead to new countries. Hence I was under the impression as a child that every time we passed through a tunnel (i.e. walls on the sides with lights at the top) that we were travelling to other countries. I kept that belief even when driving in Kuwait itself after the war.

To be young is a beautiful thing, to be young at heart is a true blessing.

Kuwait’s Second Ring Road-mance

Colloquially referred to as the “Love Street” of Kuwait, The Second Ring Road is more closely comparable to a soap-opera melo-drama rather than an actual road. You need only tune in via the Three screens available right there in your very own vehicle; The right & left side mirrors as well as the rear view.

More often than not, the show is right there being broadcast straight through your windshield. You catch a blushing group of women on the right, and to their immediate left is a group of guys in a car.

Seriously, when did road-mance replace real-live romance?

Then you have people like the poor sod who placed the letters below on street sign at the traffic light where the 2nd RR intersects with the 50 (the letters used to be pink earlier last year, but wear and tear have caused them to fade, although the message is still visible – I believe he refers to himself as 3asheg Arnouba)


A message to all love seeking guys on the road:

“Dear Full-of-yourself-Dude, please take your Road-meo act elsewhere, as I am anxious to get home!”

The problem with this method of “pick up” is that is literally “on the fly”, you have the guy trying to handle his muscle/ big car whilst showing off to his victim, I mean crush, I mean, wait, what do we call her exactly?

Not only are they brazenly unaware of the traffic jam they are causing as they attempt to exchange details with the other car, they drive in a reckless manner so as to get infront of the other car, putting everyone in the street at that point in time in apparent danger.

Love Street needs to be taken off the map, a stronger police presence will ensure that.

Cars are NOT objects of romance!

Uninvited Guests



How many people are affected by this occurrence on a regular basis?


August 2011 ( View complete archive page )

September 2011 ( View complete archive page )

error: Sorry, Ctrl+C/V disabled; if you wish to use this content please contact us :)
%d bloggers like this: