Settling in

I'm sitting here listening to the call to prayer from the four mosques close by. I've heard some people complain about it after they've visited Muslim countries, not for religious reasons, just that they find it strange or intrusive but I like it. It's part of the country and I find it soothing. I'm sure I'd feel differently if I heard it every day several times a day in Malmesbury or while I'm trying to get a night's sleep ready for work, but here...it fits, like the church bells on a Sunday in England. It's somehow comforting.

Apart from the heat, and I'm not a lover of heat which is why I came at this time of the year, the other main differences are also sounds. I'm used to birdsong and while there a certain amount of traffic it's mostly engine noise. Here's there's a constant background of raised voices and car horns day and night. Drivers sound their horns all the time. Drivers, and pedestrians, here are without fear and totally insane from an English point of view. They could save themselves a fortune in paint by simply not using lane markings, nobody pays any attention to them. There don't appear to be any rules other than 'survive'. Overtake anywhere you like, however you like, pull in front of fast-moving traffic without notice, take a stroll across a six-lane carriageway through speeding cars, taxis and mini-buses. I have a tremendous respect fom my friends and am quite content to leave all the driving to them. Under no circumstances is this coward going anywhere near the driver's seat!

Yesterday we drove down the Corniche to a restaurant for lunch and ate a wonderful Lebanese meal of mixed dishes where we all helped ourselves to whatever took our fancy instead of having a dish a-piece. Our table overlooked the sea with the windows open to the sea breeze.

The only little difficulty in my life just now is my friends' cat, but we all need a challenge in our lives. She's beautiful and adorable but being born feral is also highly territorial. Various grown male cousins and handymen go in fear of her, even to sitting with their feet up on the chairs or perching on shelving to avoid unseemly bloodshed. My friend's son found her in a gutter as a still-blind kitten, brought her home and hand-raised her. She was a week old last time I was here and I helped feed and cuddle her. I still think she's gorgeous but she doesn't return the feeling, especially with relation to my feet. I've given up going barefoot or in light slippers round the house, resorting to the outdoor shoes I arrived in. She's sporting enough to spit and hiss a warning, and I've learned to peer round corners before proceeding and stop dead when I hear the hiss to pinpoint her position before working out an alternate route.

She's a whole lot faster than me, and her claws are a whole lot sharper so she's won most of our confrontations to date. She's drawn blood three times now but I had a small triumph this morning when I spotted her and managed to get my foot out the way just in time and she missed. Hah! Chalk one up for the two-footed contestant.

Well, it looks as though this blog might turn into a travelogue for a couple of weeks. Saves on stamps!