---

Visiting Kuwait was a huge milestone for me. For the first time I'd be travelling alone; something I'd have never entertained just a few years previously. On the short hop from Qatar, I was in the midst of two contrasting emotions: excitement and apprehension. I was excited at the prospect of visiting a brand new country and seeing what it had to offer, but I couldn't shake off the underlying feeling of nervousness at being by myself. How people did this for months on end I could not begin to imagine. With the seatbelt sign chiming, I looked out of my window seeing the sand finally giving way to the urban development’s of Kuwait City. A few minutes later we were on the ground.

After checking into the Oasis Hotel, I unpacked a few things and decided to bite the bullet. It was time to hit the streets with only my camera and guidebook as companion. The extremely friendly staff organised a taxi for me and I was soon off.

Kuwait City seemed similar to other Gulf cities I'd visited. It had big shiny skyscrapers, big shiny 4x4s, and a long stretch of corniche fringed with palm trees. It also had patrols of Asian men in brown overalls doing all the menial jobs that the locals couldn't be bothered to do. Troops of them toiled over the attractive flower beds and gardens that added colour to the otherwise lacklustre highway central reservations.

I was heading to the most famous of all of the city's sights - the iconic Kuwait Towers. My driver was an affable fellow who informed me he was from Kerala, India. He also told me he'd lived in Kuwait for fifteen years. “There is nothing to do here, though,” he added. “But the money is good and the work is easy compared to what I'd have to do in India.”

I asked him how often he returned to his home country and he told me it was every year. “And when I get to India I drink Kingfisher beer!” reminding me again that Kuwait was a completely dry country, with not even the top hotels serving alcohol. “I have heard of people who have managed to get bottles of whiskey into the country which they sell for 200 dollars each!” the driver explained, smiling. “But for that kind of money you could fly to Bahrain and drink all day!”

Kuwait Towers were located on the tip of the corniche and did indeed look striking, comprising of three towers with two huge spheres attached to two of them, both filled with water. The tallest tower had an observation deck and restaurant and after paying the entrance fee I was soon at the top, having the place more or less to myself.

The views were impressive, spanning the whole of the city on one side and the Arabian Gulf on the other. The observation deck also housed a set of photos showing some of the damage caused by the Iraqi invasion of 1991 when the 'barbaric invaders' had used the towers for target practice. After finishing my free cup of tea, I caught the elevator back down and headed off along the corniche.

It was damn hot, of that there was no escaping. As I wandered along, taxis would occasionally beep me, beckoning me into their air-conditioned interiors, but I waved them away, wanting to walk and take in the city at a slower pace. Kuwait City's corniche was actually very nice - the azure water of the Gulf providing a seamless backdrop as I headed along the well-kept pathways. Some sections of the corniche had good beaches too, which in the UK would have been packed with sun seekers, but here they were all empty. Juice bars and cafes were also conveniently located along the corniche and it was in one of them that I decided to stop for lunch.

“I'd like a spicy chicken sandwich please,” I ordered, “but without mayonnaise.” The waiter nodded and repeated my order. As he walked off I sat back and mulled over my day thus far. Since the visit to the observation deck of the Kuwait Towers, I had settled down somewhat. My unease levels had not completely disappeared though especially now that I was sitting in a cafe by myself. To take my mind off things I began to read an English language newspaper I'd picked up earlier.

Whenever I'm in a foreign country I always try to peruse one of the local papers and this one turned out to be quite good. One headline read: Street Violence on Rise, which seemed at odds with the common perception that street crime was very low in the Gulf States. The report described numerous incidents of fist fights, beatings and brawls, all involving local men, all of whom had been arrested. But the most alarming bit of violence was discussed in the article's closing paragraph. It described how a security official had arrested 'a young transvestite for hitting his car.” It didn't mention what the transvestite had been beating the car with but I could well imagine.

I looked up from the newspaper just as the waiter arrived with my food. He looked apologetic even before he spoke. “I am sorry sir, but the chef has put some mayonnaise on your sandwich. But only a tiny bit!”

Damn, I thought. It reminded me off a recent trip to Kosovo when I'd been in a similar mayonnaise-induced situation. How the horrible white sauce had taken over the world was beyond me especially since even the smallest of amount of the stuff in my mouth would induce a gag reflex. The waiter stood waiting, a hopeful expression on his face, but it was no good, I looked in the sandwich and saw large glistening globules of mayonnaise everywhere. There was no way I could eat it and I told the waiter so. He nodded in resignation and removed the plate, saying he'd get me a spicy chicken sandwich with no mayonnaise.

Incredibly, the next sandwich contained no spicy chicken! Surely this couldn't be right! But it was even worse than that. Instead of chicken it contained only mayonnaise! Bugger in Hell! What was it with mayonnaise? And how could my simple order of a chicken sandwich with no mayonnaise turn out to be a sandwich containing just the cruel condiment itself?

It was a hideous joke and I was about to leave when the owner of the cafe noticed my discomfort. After explaining my plight, he nodded and apologised. “It is our chef,” he explained in deferential tones. “He doesn't understand English! But I will make sure you get the sandwich you want, and then I'll beat the chef to death with a stick covered in mayonnaise.” I thanked the man, only wishing the last part had been true.

I set off once more along the corniche, this time armed with a spicy chicken sandwich with no mayonnaise. Eventually I arrived at a large building on the seafront which turned out to contain a sprawling fish market. Every kind of fish imaginable was laid out for customers to haggle over. Sharks, rays, parrot fish and long silver things called belt fish were among the items on offer, and men armed with knives and choppers stood about ready to scale, skin and fillet any purchases made. I wandered around for a while before heading out to a harbour filled with fishing dhows and small boats, all serviced by teams of Asian men.

I'd been sightseeing for almost two hours and felt I was getting into the stride of things. For my first foray into uncharted territory, Kuwait had been a fairly good choice because it was easy and clean and above all else, safe. But when I thought of heading off to Bangladesh the next day, my stomach took a lurch. That would be a different proposition altogether.

After taking a photo of the Grand Mosque, Kuwait's largest, I had my first interaction with a Kuwaiti policeman. He was sat in his car just outside the gates of the Sief Palace, the official residence of the Emir of Kuwait. I already knew that the public were not allowed into the grounds of the massive complex, but I only wanted to take a quick snap for prosperity and so explained this to the policeman. “I'm sorry, but it is not possible at this time,” he said. “The prime minister is about to leave the palace. But after he is gone, in maybe fifteen minutes, a photo should be okay.”

I thanked the man, pondering whether to stay or not, but suddenly a third man in a red uniform rushed over towards me. He carried a gun and a stern expression. “No photo! No photo! You leave now!” To back up his words he was waving his arms leaving me in no doubt that I should move on. Just then though, the traffic cop spoke up in my defense, having a conversation in guttural Arabic. Red Cop was having none of it though and actually began to shout at the policeman before turning back to me. “Go!” he yelled. “You go now!” Raising my hands in acquiescence, I turned around and walked away. What a nice chap, I thought.

Two hours later, after having had a refreshing shower in the hotel, I decided I wanted to watch the sunset from the Kuwait Towers and was soon in another taxi about to get caught up in an exciting development. My taxi driver was an Indian man in his thirties called Amit. He seemed a chatty type and as I settled into my seat, a thick-set man decided to walk across the road in front of us. After some harsh braking and general cursing we came to a standstill. The pedestrian, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, didn't even turn in our direction and nonchalantly carried on sauntering past the front of the car. This clearly displeased Amit because he turned from friendly Indian to angry Indian in just a split second, shouting and gesturing wildly at the man. Luckily, the pedestrian didn't seem to notice and so we set off again, with Amit grumbling under his breath.

Screech! We came to another standstill and Amit threw open his driver's door. Seconds before he’d been looking into his rear view mirror and evidently what he'd seen hadn't made him happy because as I sat there wondering what the hell was going on, Amit charged back towards the man where a heated argument soon developed. I craned my neck to look and could see the two men pointing and yelling at each other. Thankfully, a few moments later Amit was back in the car and we set off once more.

“That man is a fool!” stated Amit. “Crossing the road like that! A fool I tell you!” I nodded in agreement and called the jaywalker a crazy man. What happened next took me by surprise. Amit suddenly brought the car to a stop for a third time and pressed a button which lowered my passenger window. Before I could gather my wits, he began yelling again in Hindi, who soon brought the man to my window! He looked furious and large. A further argument broke out between the two crazy men while I sat sandwiched between them trying to look invisible.

After thirty seconds or so, my window went back up and we moved on. Amit, bizarrely, began laughing and I joined in too. I asked Amit what the man had said, thinking it had perhaps involved me. “He called you a motherfucker!” he answered, “because you called him a crazy man!” We both burst out into a fresh burst of guffaws. Mercifully, the rest of the journey went without incident.

Back at the top of the Kuwait Towers, I watched the sunset and took a few snaps until it was too dark to take anymore. Amit, meanwhile, had been waiting for me and when I was back down at ground level he led me to his car. Our next stop was the Musical Fountains, a place described in the Lonely Planet as having the fourth largest set of fountains in the world. I pointed on the map to the location of this aural and visual wonder but Amit seemed confused. “I have never heard of such a thing? And it is near the ice rink? I am not sure - but we will have a look anyway.”

The skyscrapers of downtown Kuwait City were bathed in vivid splashes of colourful neon, and I asked Amit about them. “Yes they are amazing,” he agreed. “And when I first arrived here ten years ago there were no high rise buildings like this. Sometimes I find it hard to remember what Kuwait was like back then.”

The fountains were eluding us, even equipped with a Lonely Planet map and a GPS on my phone. It was as if they had been demolished or something. Amit told me that he'd driven along this road hundreds of times before and had never seen any fountains, musical or otherwise. “And also,” he added sagely, “No one has ever asked to see them before. You are the first tourist ever! Perhaps they were never here at all.” I tended to agree with him and so we called it a day. Back at the hotel I shook hands with Amit and paid him his fare. My day in Kuwait was over and it was time to get some sleep before heading off to Bangladesh early the next morning.

Strengths:
-Good weather
-Kuwait Towers (for the view)
-Friendly taxi drivers
-Beautiful corniche
-Sunny weather
-All the major sights are walkable (if you have a good hat, strong sunglasses, and a large bottle of water)

Weaknesses:
-Hot!
-Unexpectedly expensive (that 2 dinar cup of coffee equates to almost £5!)
-No alcohol!

---