Kim Kash's Blog, page 7

A Peek Inside Ocean City Lowdown

Here's a tiny glimpse of what's inside my newly published Kindle novel, Ocean City Lowdown . We join reporter Jamie August in Chapter 3, in a booth at AJ's, a bayside restaurant and sports bar....

“I’m married.” He said it earnestly, like he was
telling me he had cancer.

Son of a bitch. How had I not seen this coming? I
dropped my eyes to the table.

“Hey, but don’t worry about it, it’s not a
problem. She’s in Boca Raton for the winter.”

I could taste the fried food coming back up my
throat. I didn’t trust myself to speak. My hands shook as I pulled the press
kit out from under the wreckage of the appetizer platter. I shoved everything
randomly in my bag, including a few stray French fries. I grabbed my coat and
slid out of the booth.

I bumped into our waitress, who gave me a
withering look as she attempted to rebalance the huge tray of food on her
shoulder. “Girl, you better watch it,” she hissed. I flipped her the bird, then
used the finger to give a little push to the underside of the tray. The whole
thing came crashing down, a waterfall of chili, mashed potatoes, gravy, and
fries all over her shiny blond hair.

Want more? Pick up your Kindle copy, pop open a can of Coors Lite, and enjoy. 

Announcing My First Novel: OCEAN CITY LOWDOWN

Ocean City Lowdown introduces Eastern Shore Maryland reporter Jamie August, who has a talent for unearthing more than her editor wants and a weakness for Ravens jerseys and sparkly underwear. She is assigned to cover the grand opening of a big new housing development in Ocean City, Maryland. Instead of writing about wrap-around porches and rattan furnishings, she uncovers kickbacks and payoffs, blackmail and murder. Jamie's tenacity, smarts, and sheer recklessness—plus some smokin’ striptease dance moves—can get her out of some tight spots, but are they enough to save her from a psychopathic arsonist and two generations of corrupt real estate tycoons?

My research for the TOURIST TOWN GUIDE TO OCEAN CITY a few years ago inspired me to chronicle the adventures of the hottest new girl action hero in
the tri-state area. This is the eBook you want on the sand or by the pool. Pop open a can of beer and a bag of Doritos and get ready for a wild ride, hon.

Get it right here for your Kindle.
 

 

 

On the Trail of the Big Domes

There are so many jaw-dropping places to go in the world, sometimes to narrow it down you've got to get somewhat arbitrary. Like those silly "10 (or 100, or 5) places to see before you die" travel lists. Seriously? Says who? According to what criteria?  We're all just making this stuff up. Really, everybody needs to come up with their own, personalized travel list, and figure out how to vet it.

(While I'm saying what everybody needs to do, may I repeat my overwrought plea? Travel! Now that I'm beginning to seeing the world, I believe there is nothing more important.)  

My 2013 itinerary is already booked solid with a crazy, mixed-up list of places: Maryland, Michigan, Wisconsin, New Hampshire, Quebec, Spain, Morocco, and the Philippines. But next year! I love how next year shimmers on the horizon with unplanned possibilities.

Here's a likely prospect: Bijapur, inland from Goa in southern India. I just read an article about it (read the Saudi Aramco World article here) and learned that it's full of ruins and restored architecture dating from the 16th and 17th centuries. It is a luscious mishmash of Hindu and Muslim style, with creeping vines and 300+ year old baobab trees. And get this: in Bijapur is one of the world's largest stone domes: a little smaller than St. Peter's, a little bigger than Hagia Sofia's. 

Say what? 

 

Gol Gumbaz in Bijapur, Karnataka, India. Photo by Ashwatham at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons

I've seen the domes at Hagia Sofia and St. Peter's. Those are major tourist deals (quoth MOTO, Master Of The Obvious). It is my opinion that organized religion has done more harm to the world than any other single thing. (Well, now I've veered a bit off-topic, I suppose.) That said, the architecture and art that religion has inspired is undeniably awe-inspiring. Learning about world history and the art of any era necessarily involves visiting important churches and mosques.

 

Inside the Hagia Sofia, Istanbul. Photo by Kim Kash

St. Peter's dome. Oh, sorry, no, that's a solid gold skeleton enfolded in a pink marble drape, at the entrance to a crypt in St. Peter's Basilica. Photo by Kim Kash.

Here it is, a slice of St. Peter's dome. Photo by Kim Kash

Of course, these domes aren't the only reason people go to Istanbul and Rome, but they are very important pieces of architecture by anyone's estimation. Why isn't Gol Gumbaz in Bijapur on the same list? According to the article, "The city of Bijapur lies far off the usual tourist itinerary in south-central India--so far, in fact, that it was only connected to the nation's standard-gauge railroad network in the last decade."

I want to see this. The 2014 wish list has begun. Other travel suggestions? 

Clandestine Piano Concert

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Note the location listed on the ticket: "The Usual Venue"

A respected European pianist with numerous first place international awards came to our fair city last weekend and played a selection of pieces from Beethoven, Chopin, Scriabin, and Ravel to an enthusiastic audience.

In a school gym.

We drove through side streets and arrived at the back gate of the private school. Other people from international compounds around the city arrived unobtrusively. Once inside the gates, men in dress slacks and women in tasteful casual evening wear mingled over cups of coffee and tea and then made their way to their seats.

The chairs were a bit uncomfortable, designed as they were for school children. The stage was expertly lit and miked, but it was impossible to conceal the basketball hoops folded up against the ceiling.

The pianist took the stage in the requisite tuxedo with tails. He played a superb concert, elevating us and the humble venue to something very special and rarified. The Ravel was particularly interesting. He played three pieces inspired by Aloysius Bertrand poems, which were read before he played each selection. It was truly beautiful and felt very high-minded. But the fact is, all of us--men, women and children--sat together. We listened to music. Secular music. In the dark. 

It is my understanding that this is frowned upon here. That is why the concert organizers don't advertise the location of the concerts, and why my husband's employer only rarely sponsors such things. All sorts of cultural events happen in this country, as one could only expect with the tens of thousands of western expats living and working here. But out of respect for the conservative culture, they're all kept quiet. Venues divulged on a need-to-know basis. 

A German friend and I talked about the fact that in the west (and in the past) we have been to raves and word-of-mouth warehouse parties. But this was the first underground piano recital we'd ever attended. It was a bit thrilling. I've never been so excited to hear Beethoven.

How Our Garden Grows

The front garden, looking lush a year later.

Lots of new cactus growth in the front garden

Thunder is rumbling and the sky is clouding over for more rain. More rain. By some accounts, this has been the coolest, wettest spring for 25 years in the Eastern Province. I don't know if those accounts are to be trusted. The Arab News (known to expats as "The Green Truth" because it is printed on pale green newsprint) reports that the Saudi government urges people to ignore foreign weather reporting. “Individuals shouldn't take any notice of such reports no matter how credible the sources are,” government officials say.

Night-blooming jasmine, which blooms day and night. But it's nighttime when the scent comes out.

I don't pay much attention to any weather reports, foreign or domestic. Sticking my nose out the front door works fine. Could be there are major weather pattern alterations. Or maybe, as my host country suggests, this is an insidious case of fraudulent international meteorological reporting. Either way, it's out of my hands. All I know is, my garden is loving it!

When we moved in last spring, I took full advantage of the generosity and expertise of our company's gardening staff and had major landscaping work done. Even one year later, the difference is amazing! If you flip back to last year's garden pictures, you'll see what I mean.

New lemon tree

Bug's eye view of the new fig tree.

This year I'm adding to the lushness of our little plot. In the past couple of weeks I have added lemon, lime, fig, and mango trees to the yard.

Hibiscus

Dried hibiscus from the farmer's market.

The hibiscus bloomed its first red bloom a few days ago. Speaking of hibiscus: Yesterday I went to our community's farmer's market (local organic farmers are popping up in the Eastern Province!) A vendor was selling dried hibiscus flowers. I had no idea what to do with them, but I bought 'em. Checking on the internet, I now see that it's commonly used for tea. If you've had Celestial Seasonings' Red Zinger, then you've tried hibiscus tea. A sweet/tart simple syrup in a rosy pink color is another typical use for dried hibiscus. I found some other, weirder recipes too. Hibiscus enchiladas, anyone? Some poor sap's going to give those a try at my table soon.

Bougainvillea

The bougainvilleas are blooming hysterically in my yard and all over the compound. Truly, this is a gorgeous Saudi spring.

And that is a credible piece of news, straight from a local source.

A Home Back Home in Maryland

Our Home Back at Home

For the last several months I have been MIA from my new "real life", and ensconced back in my old Greenbelt neighborhood, in a Maryland suburb of Washington, D.C. We bought a house there! We're not permanently moving back to the States--that's years off yet, Inshallah. But now we have a place to call home when we go back to visit family and friends.

Check out that roofline!

The house, a split level built in 1960, is a model of atomic age streamlining, with an asymmetrical roofline and smartly painted wood-panel trim. I love the look--and I love the location even more. It's on the same quiet residential block as my sister's house, as well as the homes of several other close friends. We had Sunday dinner with friends at the end of the street every week for years before we left the country, and will continue to do so whenever we come back.

Newly fabricated HVAC ducts ready to be installed

We purchased from the original owners, who lived in the house for over 50 years. It was essentially a very solid house, but it needed some updates and we wanted to add our own stamp to it. We also wanted to add air conditioning (which it lacked.)

Emergency tree removal

I arrived in Maryland right before Hurricane Sandy. Luckily, Couch Cut Tree Service was able to divert a crew to come out the day before the storm hit and remove several dead or dying trees from around the property. (I recommend them, yes.)

Builder's blueprint for "The Capri"

The original owners hung onto the builder's plans for the house, and passed them on to us. Imagine our delight to find that the name of this model is "The Capri"! I need to have cocktail napkins done up with "The Capri" in some space-agey font.

Distressingly solid construction

The biggest surprise during the renovation, though, was the discovery of a cement block wall bisecting the INTERIOR of the house. This was, of course, a wall that needed to come down....  

Safety Red cabinets, for safety

My mother-in-law and I sanded and repainted the original kitchen cabinets a glossy red--Sherwyn Williams' "Safety Red." That, along with new sink, faucet and countertop and a new set of Ikea upper cabinets, gave the kitchen a modern feel on a (relative) shoestring.

Our home within our home

We made a small apartment for ourselves in the house, so that we have a place to stay in Greenbelt during the years that we live overseas. Others will live in the main part of the house.

Two generations of Gervasi Construction

Renovations continued through the fall and winter, thanks to Frank Gervasi and Gervasi Construction, Joseph Lynch for heating and air conditioning, and also We Love to Work. The latter did the outdoor jobs, including concrete work, moving and installing a shed, and leveling and seeding a new front lawn. Both contractors are excellent; I recommend them. Meanwhile, I was making design decisions and hardware store runs on a near-daily basis. This kind of detail work drives my husband crazy, but I love it. So it worked out well that I was in the States taking care of the house, while he stayed back in Saudi Arabia, trying to earn money as fast as I was spending it.

My Rolling Valentine

I had the luxury of not having to live in the house while it was being renovated. (I don't see how that would have been possible, but I guess if I'd had to, I would have done it.) I'm lucky enough to have a dear, kind, patient friend--the fabulous Kim Rush Lynch--with a big house and a comfy guest room. She and her husband kept a roof over my head for four months. While I was there, we did our best to drink all the wine in the tri-state area. 

Kim is a retired DC Roller Girl who skates every week at Laurel Skating Center. I bought a set of skates so I could join the fun. A lot of the same people go to the rink every Thursday night, and it was fun to belong to that little weekly party on wheels!

Girl Scout presentation board on Saudi Arabia for Thinking Day

I also spent some good time with my family, and gave a presentation on Saudi Arabia to my eldest niece's Girl Scout troop. They were so curious about life in the Middle East! Many of them had misconceptions about Islam and about everyday life here--as most Americans do. But it was refreshing to hear the girls just blurt out the questions that I know others want to ask but are too polite to bring up. Why can't women drive? What do you have to wear when you go out in public? Why do women have to cover? Can you vote? Is the food any good? Do you like living there? It was fun to answer these questions posed by 10 and 11-year-old girls.

All that's left is for the grass seed to germinate

Renovation of the house finished up in early March, with new topsoil and grass seed laid, and a new, modern door and house numbers.

Happily, we found some great people to stay in the house while we're gone. So others will get to call The Capri home year-round, while we get to enjoy our little slice of the house during our trips back. 

Now I'm back in the Magic Kingdom, thrilled to have such a great house in Maryland, but ready to turn my attention back to the wider world.

Where to next?

Greenbelt Lake, on my pedestrian commute to The Capri

Leaving Los Angeles

There are people I love who live in Los Angeles. But after seven days there, I'm calling it quits. Seven days of freeways and strip malls and angst and donut places and tire warehouses and freeways and mini-marts and traffic and ugly, flat, junked-up streets stretching in every direction to the horizon.

Smirking hipsters. God.

Freeways, and 12-level parking structures with squeaky concrete floors and no empty spaces. Muzak blaring from speakers in the shrubs on Santa Monica Boulevard. A homeless guy squatting at the crosswalk, chatting and laughing into his hand, like there's a cell phone embedded in his palm and his agent's on the line.

Every year I fly to Los Angeles from the East Coast, or from the Middle East, because there are people there worth the trouble. I land at LAX and I rent a car and I drive around this city that is not a city at all but just a sticky web of car washes and burrito places and breathtakingly expensive purveyors of ironic clothing and shoes and musical instruments and food, a relentless net of ugly that inches across the length and breadth of LA County, connecting Pasadena with Burbank with West Hollywood with Santa Monica with El Segundo with Redondo Beach, smothering all of these diferent cities into one homogenous, never-ending suburb.

By the end of my weeklong stay, I was starting to think like my overcommitted and wrung-out friends. My friends have it figured out. When I am in town, I go to them. They do not come to me. I understand. This time, I really understand. No, I don't want to drive across this wasteland city any more, not even once more, no. I'll sit alone in my rental place and send you text messages. 

Adios, Los Angeles. We're through.

Livable, Lovable Amsterdam

Parking in Amsterdam

Whenever I visit a city, I give it a thumbs-up or thumbs-down vote as to whether I'd want to live there. It's a wildly unfair survey, based on whatever I happen to stumble across in my often disorganized travels. Would I live in Paris? Thumbs up. Calcutta? Thumbs down. Rome? Thumbs up. Los Angeles? Thumbs down. Bilbao? Thumbs up. Bangkok? Thumbs down. Istanbul? Thumbs up. Chicago? Thumbs up except good grief, it's cold in the winter.

Now I'm just back from a week-long stay in Amsterdam and I can easily imagine a happy life there. And I have more information than usual on which to base my opinion. 

Shutters in the old city

That's because my husband and I were traveling with another couple. The wife of this couple plans their itineraries carefully and they hit the ground with fearsome efficiency. Leave it to the library sciences type! She had everything sorted. 

Symphony orchestra preparing to rehearse three Debussy pieces

She knew the right day and time to show up for the free symphony orchestra rehearsal at Concertgebouw (Wednesdays at 12:30, September through June).

The National Maritime Museum, as seen from the deck of the three-masted Amsterdam

She knew it was a better deal to buy the Museumkaart because we'd be visiting more than three museums.... 

EYE Film Institute

She had studied the various forms of public transportation, and read up on which neighborhood to hit for the best restaurant choices (De Pijp).

De Hortus Botanicus (botanical gardens)

Our friend is considering a post-retirement business planning European trips. I hope she does it because I'd be her most loyal customer.

Amsterdam-style dog crate

For all the excellent pre-planning, some of our most pleasurable experiences were completely unscripted. That's one of the best things about travel. We set off on foot every day through the old city, and came back charmed. Completely smitten with the good cheer and small scale of the neighborhoods, the easy efficiency of the public transportation and the bike traffic, and the beauty of the clouds and light reflecting in the ever-present canals.

Gorilla in the park

For all the urban density, there were flowers spilling out everywhere, and pockets of greenery softening the edges of the old city. The gorilla, above, was one of several creatures made of rusting metal odds and ends in a very small triangular pocket park. The installation of sculptures was clearly a neighborhood's whimsical labor of love.

My husband said aloha to a ukulele in Amsterdam.

One afternoon we wandered through an indoor antiques market, and then stumbled upon the Uke Boutique, where my husband couldn't resist this baby blue Makala beauty. As George Harrison said, "Everyone should have and play a uke. You can't play and not laugh."

Airbnb Dinner Party

My husband and I rented a great flat, and I swear this is a completely unsolicited recommendation. Our friends rented a room in a shared apartment nearby. Their hosts were so charming that we invited them to dinner at our place. We shopped at the Albert Cuyp Market (the oldest open air market in Amsterdam, an easy walk from the flat), and cooked a fall vegetable stew. They brought a cheese plate that included a Dutch green cheese--made green with the addition of pesto. At least, that's my recollection of what makes the cheese green. But the cheese course comes after dinner, which included a lot of wine, and dinner comes after pre-dinner drinks. So I can't swear to the pesto thing, only that the cheese was green and it was tasty.

Look at the cheese in the second floor windows!

All told, Amsterdam is a beautiful place to spend an autumn week. It's fun to see with old friends, and now we've made some new ones! I'd like to see it in other seasons, too. Survey says: Thumbs way, way up.