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Wait for Kuwait, a good weekend

Kuwait for the weekend:  almost 3 hours' drive north to the border, then mysterious bureaucracy for 90 minutes (no English signage whatever -- evidently all foreigners must apply for a visa and pay some money.  I give thanks to a friendly Indian engineer who translated a bit for me), then another hour north to Kuwait City, then another hour trying to find the Ibis Salmiya Hotel  (google-maps lists two different locations).  We are glad we started out early in the morning.

I am recording most of the opinions (good) about the hotel on tripadvisor, which worked out well.
Overall, Kuwait was a great weekend destination:  certainly happier and a bit more organized than Saudi.  Fashionable people and cars in the tourist districts, perhaps more obvious because the women were not monochromatically forced to wear black abaya robes.
The weather was surprisingly cool and windy -- we wished we had brought jackets!
The National Museum is a must-see, more for its bombed-out condition than for its contents: the exhibit of life-size dioramas is quaint and a bit dusty, but reasonably informative nevertheless.  The museum complex looks as if the Iraqi invasion occurred a few months earlier -- one wonders at the politicking that has delayed serious re-construction of the National Museum?   The nearby museum of Bedouin weaving is clearly better kept and more modern, evidently under the care of some highly-placed (royal?) women.
Something else I noticed -- a relative lack of machinegunners, compared to Saudi: only the Foreign Ministry building had razor wire and a machinegun post.  In Saudi Arabia every other compound bristles with ugly razor wire and Army guards.  Of course, I don't think Kuwait has ever suffered a terrorist attack as Saudi has. 
Kuwait also includes highway rest stops for families, with (relatively) clean fast-food restaurants and restrooms;  incomprehensibly, the highways of the Eastern Province have NO clean facilities, only decrepit truck stops.
Kuwait City, our exciting evening jaunt:  while driving around looking for the hotel, Meg spotted the typical red-neon logo for Trader Vic's, on the side of a 10-story building.  In the evening we decided to seek it out--would they have real umbrella-drinks?    The front of the building was crowded, so we parked a couple blocks away.  There was a bouncer/desk at the building entrance.  He directed us inside for Trader Vics.  Once inside, on the ground floor, was a tiny shopping mall, with no signs -- we wandered a bit, then asked again, were directed through some construction rubble to an old elevator, sixth floor.  Curiouser and curiouser.   Exit the elevator to a small hallway with a large poster advertising Asian Massage Services.  Loud music, red lights, smoke.   All twenty men inside the sheesha cafe turn to stare at us 3 gringos, all equally surprised that we are there.  No drinks, just hubbly-bubbly (with lots of tobacco) and coffee, and soccer on television.   After about 10 seconds of staring, we turned around and pressed "1" in the elevator.  No goodbyes.  The little shopping mall had a brightly-lit pleasant Syrian shawarma chain restaurant, very friendly ("we don't get many of your kind around here"), so we had a quick dinner there.  No umbrella drinks, just good chicken shawarma.  By the way, did we remind ourselves that Kuwait is dry.  No alcohol anywhere.

The return border crossing still had some mysterious bureaucracy, as the Saudis evidently were not quite sure about our car registration -- but three different non-English-speaking and indifferent border guards eventually stamped our papers and waved us on our way.  

Drive back to Jubail was rather eventful, just because of the sandstorm, much like a snowstorm with drifts across the highway and occasional loss of visibility and occasional crazy drivers acting like nothing's different (sometimes maybe I was that driver, too, according to Barb my driving coach).  And we realized there are No gas stations between the border and Jubail... slow to a very efficient 55 MPH, and breath sigh of relief when we reach a truck stop.  

In sum, it's a long drive, but worth the trip at least once.   Gas up at the border.

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