ME

I spent the last two years of my life living in The Kingdom of Bahrain, I turned 30 over there. I can devote an entire series on life in Bahrain.  Share my adventures of adopting two cats, braving the heat, the time I spent as a financial manager working at a remote deployment site, or the call to prayer, visits to the souq and carpet shop, and my love for the food.  Bahrain is a land of perfect imperfections.  It’s dusty and dirty with little grass and even less clean air.  The date palms and a few pockets of green are the closest you’ll get to agriculture.  There’s a Farmers’ Market and green houses, but they’re in the desert. 

There’s also the Tree of Life, another marvel and mystery because it’s a 400+ year old tree in the middle of the desert as well, featuring it’s own snake.  But I have to admit it’s also a land of opulence and taste.  People drive around in luxury cars, Bentleys, Maseratis, Mercedes and the occasional Lamborghini.  You’ll encounter one or two adrenaline junkies popping wheelies on their motorcycles as the speed down Awal Avenue.  On Fridays the streets are empty, so unless you’re headed to the Mosque or one of many establishments hosting Friday Brunch, you’ll be hard pressed to find any traffic. And that’s great if you need to be somewhere and don't want to deal with bumper to bumper traffic, irate drivers who put a death grip on their horns or the resourceful driver in his Toyota Trailblazer who actually blazes his own trail over the median and through the unpaved shoulder to bypass a long line of traffic. There are unpaved roads next to high ways leading to brand new architecturally appetizing buildings.  The World Trade Center looks like a giant set of sails, and boasts a luxury mall featuring designer brands such as Gucci, Versace, and Louis Vutton.  But a few blocks down the road and you can practice old world haggling in the modern souq, with a labyrinth of shops featuring perfumes, scarves, carpets, trinkets, Turkish Lamps and spices.  If you want to look like you stepped off the Runway, run over to the Moda Mall or look in a Vogue catalogue, rip out a picture from the most recent Fashion Week and hand it over to one of countless tailors who will take your measurements and make a suit that will make the Sheikh stare. 

And speaking of Sheikh, anyone who can appear as remotely wealthy or influential as royalty will, even to the point of paying for a lower number license tag to give the impression that their in or connected to the royal family.  Women wear Abayas and men Thobes.  And on a clear day, you can see the women walking along the path outdoors in any number of parks in the Capital Governate of Manama, their abaya’s catching under the wind concealing their figures like a ghostly cloak. There’s always the impression of mourning and while the abaya is worn by choice and to communicate modesty, I have seen several women walking down the streets of Adliyah’s restaurant district with a modern robe like abaya that shows off the outfit, a pair of canary yellow slacks or a sharp pair of blue Christian Louboutin’s with the red sole.  Bahrain is whimsical in a way.  

When I first arrived I felt out of place.  I knew I was not of that world.  And the biggest indication was the fact that people were wearing heavy jackets, ear muffs and gloves in 55 degree weather, something I would later come to understand after surviving my first summer.  The rain was dirty.  Yes, because of all the dust and dirt in the air, a rain storm wouldn’t wash the dirt off your car but remind you that not even the strongest and most able cloud could filter out the particles in the air.  The heat, when it arrived and without fair warning, slapped you senseless and forced you into your air conditioned hole. And you couldn’t help but empathize with the workers, the majority of whom were Indian migrant workers who helped build the 30+ new high rises from apartments to businesses and the two extra malls that were being built before we moved. And things were built in record time.  None of this U.S. Federally funded multiple deadline extension mess. Nope, if you saw a plot of empty land at the start of 2016, by October or November of that same year, there was a grand opening sign and ribbon cutting ceremony and countless cars lined up to access the vicinity parking all sorts of wrong, further contributing to the traffic jam. The malls were grand, featuring prayer sections, Western stores and Souq themed local flare.  The movie theaters, which I regretfully never attended, featured U.S. films, though I heard most R rated films were edited but they featured Arabic subtitles. 

Despite my love for pork, bacon, pork chops, etc. Some of the best and internationally celebrated cuisine could be found in Bahrain, so I didn’t have to long for pork, and even if I did, I could go to a Filipino Restaurant or hit up the Non-Muslim section of the grocery store to purchase a slab of bacon or baby back ribs, which were usually much more affordable than anything sold at the NEX mart on base.  

I usually referred to Bahrain as Saudi’s playground.  Where Dubai is the Vegas of the Middle East, Bahrain is like Reno or a few steps away from being Atlantic City but just not there. And Bahrain had this interesting identity complex.  As a Muslim nation, it honored and held true to, Muslim customs.  The call to prayer occurred 5 times a day as was customary.  We didn't eat, drink, chew gum or sing in public during Ramadan. Most if not all restaurants didn’t serve pork.  Alcohol was restricted to certain locales and you definitely had to pay to drink.  Women, while not required, wore Abaya and the majority of the people I saw going to Mosque were men, not women, though we’re told that women were allowed and often worshipped in a different part of the mosque.  

There was definitely an appreciation for the old world culture of Dhow fishing, pearl diving, souq haggling, and walking camels in the back desert or riding mules down the main street. 

But for all the attempts to hold true to old world flavor, Bahrain never failed to remind me that it was and will always be the first nation of the Middle East to strike rich on its oil reserves. While driving through certain sections of Bahrain, one will see a highway of well constructed pipelines, oil derricks and giant petroleum holding vats.  These are juxtaposed with the palatial homes that adorn the highway and other spaces throughout the country.  There are homes with two living rooms, 6 bathrooms, a maids room and two kitchens, one outdoors for the cooking of food to keep the house from smelling like food, and the other to prep the food and store the items in the fridge. 

I miss it in a way I didn't expect.  It grew on me and living there challenged my assumptions of Middle Eastern culture.  Prior to arriving, I remember the mounting anxiety in response to peoples’ reactions.  At the check out counter or in other public places, I would mention that I was moving to Bahrain. Not just to tell folks, no. Mainly because the cashier would ask if I wanted to sign up for a rewards program or I would ask if a certain favorite product was sold overseas, to which the person would have to confirm if they shipped or had retail outlets in Bahrain. Most people didn’t know where that was, and when I described it, pointing out its close proximity to Saudi Arabia, a lot of people just looked at me, as if it were speaking Arabic.  Only when I talked to other Navy spouses or service members and contractors did I feel a little more comfort.  They would get excited, share how I would LOVE it there, and talk about all the fun things to do in country.  I didn’t expect to see the glitz and glamor in the middle of the desert.  It’s like that scene from Aladdin where the magic golden scarab battle comes together and a giant sand tiger emerges from the sand, inviting a brave soul to enter if he dare, and not to touch anything except that for which he entered.  But of course Aladdin couldn’t resist, and like Aladdin, I ended up with several magic carpets and trinkets. I failed to take advantage of the Gold prices, but I bulked up on perfumes and spices.  Maybe we’ll find someone to help us with the Gold or just make an excuse to return to Bahrain. 

I knew I would miss Bahrain when, one night while back in the U.S. eating dinner at an Afghani restaurant in Baltimore, I overheard two guests speaking Arabic next to me.  In that place, with the worn Afghani tribal rugs and the delicious dishes, my heart sank because I knew that my days of hearing conversations in full Arabic were coming to an end. I knew that I would no longer see the most random things in the "Land of Not Quite Right" (NKR) and that some things truly happened "Only in Bahrain". I would not enjoy a nice fresh stemming hot pot of karak with my friend Jacqueline or sample a new breakfast spot with Alessia. I knew I would soon be leaving the place where cranes were the national bird, and Formula 1 Race Car driving was a national daily event. I would miss the calls to prayer, Ramadan, despite not being able to eat or drink in public, and the humor and hospitality of the folks who showed love once they let you in.

I would go back to Bahrain to visit in a heart beat.  I would go back just to say thank you for introducing me to a culture and community that is full of flavor, diversity, mystery and grand surprises. A culture that is not unlike my own, with pious yet impatient drivers, dancers and hagglers, a love, no a grand adoration for children and a unique perspective on social hierarchy and interaction. The world of Bahrain is unlike any I had ever experienced and while it’s not perfect and I don’t ignore or celebrate its flaws, I’m grateful that I got to live and eventually fall in love with the Sandcastle.