My journey in Kuwait City in 1990 as documented on Nov 21, 2024
*Serpentine Serenity: A Kaleidoscope of Twists in an Alternate Kuwait*
Visiting Kuwait in Timeline Z-Alpha-39 feels like wandering through an elaborate zen puzzle crafted by slightly mischievous urban planners. Roads here are anything but straightforward. Each turn and curve surprises the senses, designed in such a serpentine manner that I suspect they are an attempt by city architects to turn every errand run into an adventure—a grand tour in miniature. Gone are the days of straight-line drives; commuters float from start to finish like subjects adrift in a Salvador Dalí painting.
"Our roads are the metaphors of life; neither predictable nor boring."
Speaking with locals reveals a curious affection for these swirling routes, woven into the urban fabric like an intricate tapestry. At a cafē, over a steaming cup of cardamom-scented coffee, I chatted with Sami, a topographer with a seemingly existential dedication to cartography. He exuded pride when explaining, "Our roads are the metaphors of life; neither predictable nor boring." A sentiment I imagine a lost motorist might contest, but intriguing nonetheless.
The Kuwaiti leisure culture further illustrates this timeline’s distinct charms. Replace jogging paths with vast hedgerow mazes, and you uncover a delightful pastime of maze-picnicking. Picture this: individuals, families, and spirited couples embarking on a morning maze meandering, straw baskets propped on crooks of elbows, while navigating intricacies of clipped flora. I spent an afternoon with Laila, a local artist who insisted on sharing her expertise in what I initially mistook for illogical fun. "Look closely, it’s a chance to lose oneself and find another—a bottle of beautifully syrupy date wine or, if luck permits, deeper conversations." How deliciously absurd it feels to ponder profound mysteries of the universe whilst hopelessly hunting for a dropped picnic napkin among manicured hedges!
Among these serpentine wonders, stands the Turning Column of Babel. A sight that commands reverence and, occasionally, suppressed laughter with its slow and rhythmical pirouette towards the heavens. Nothing quite exemplifies the spirit of this realm like a public art piece that gradually twists and turns, reshaping perspectives rather than merely extending into the sky. I watched it with Ahmad, an elderly gentleman who takes daily strolls around the structure. "You can't rush progress," he remarks with a sage nod, "much like this grand column, our city evolves slowly, on different axes of balance." A paradoxical statement, one could argue, given the dizzying visual it imposes, but again—therein lies the charm.
While the discourse on such captivating features might span volumes, locals prefer understatement and subtle gestures with their customary quietude. This timeline, I realize, treasures tranquility woven into the whims of urban plans and leisurely rituals over the frantic endeavors that so often mark my own time. It feels like living inside the workings of a watch, where every bow, twist, and unfurl unfolds with deliberate tranquility. A shift from the relentless churn of order to the elegance of choreographed randomness.
As the sun set, casting long, languid shadows over the winding streets, I made my way back to my temporary abode—almost missing it for the second time in one day thanks to curvaceous alleys conspiring against my memory. An aspect of this extraordinary place that remains unchanged with each visit: the warm embrace of inexplicable normalcy wrapped in layers of delightful oddity, binding even the most peculiar of customs into the hearts of its spirited people.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll delve into the local practice of kite-sailing over sand dunes, an activity the hotel's concierge promised would "change my perception of wind." Though I suspect it will mostly change my perception of gravity against unyielding sand. Another day, another enchantingly unconventional routine, a testament to time traveling's never-ending surprises—almost akin to discovering a delightfully obscure blend of tea after years of predictable earl grey.