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Driving, and other forms of assisted suicide 9/25/14

There may be 1,000,000 ways to Die in the West, but in Bahrain you only need one.

Sure, you could jump off a building...but it is awfully hot outside.  Why sweat your way to the ground?

Pop your head in an oven?  Things are in Celsius here.  I don't even know if mine works.

Maybe hang yourself?  The only place to get rope is Manazel and by the time you get there you'll buy 100 BD worth of stuff you didn't need because you've forgotten why you went.

Looks like we are down to one option: Driving.

We will start with the roads.  They are great!  Honestly, tip top shape!  Since the country itself didn't even have any known addresses 20-odd years ago, the roads are still new and fresh.

They still have that "new road" smell.


A young traveler smelling one of Bahrain's many roads

The issue comes when you have to go somewhere that isn't on one of these roads.  The highways here are fairly easy.  However, to actually get somewhere you almost assuredly have to turn at some point.  Here is where the road, while still a road, is much less the textbook definition.  In some cases, the roads are clinging with their fingernails to still be included in that demographic.  For the sake of this post, I shall refer to them as "roods" because "craggy uneven rock garden of cobblestone death" takes too long to type.

Don't get me wrong - I don't hate traveling.  I don't fear these roods.  I enjoy them.  Just like I like my favorite sports teams, I am allowed to bust on them.  It is out of love and respect.  I understand this is a desert island and it is just starting to become itself, and you can't pave every cart path.  Hell, back home I know how to get to the store via road or cow path.  I feel ya Bahrain, I feel ya.

Back to where I was before I interrupted myself...

Oh yes, roods.  They don't have names here.  So if you want to, oh I dunno, go somewhere, for instance, knowing the address is usually a big first step.

Don't bother.


My place?  Yeah, you take Issa Bin Salman to uhh, then 71st street is in there somewhere.  Make a left at the camel poo and it is two blocks...if you'd call them that...to the left of the tall flag in the distance.  See you never.

Yes, some roods have names.  Catchy ones like "Road 3556" or "7" so I am not saying there are no rood names here.  I am saying there are about 20 rood names total.  So if you want someone to visit, you had better strap on your sandals because you're gonna have to meet them.  Google Maps does tries its little heart out, but even Google Maps sometimes just says "fuck it" and uninstalls itself from your phone while trying to navigate.

Landmarks, buildings, flags, "those tube things" are all valid ways to describe where you live.  Being from where I am from, having someone describe directions as "the third rusted out Camero, make a left.  Then drive til you smell the dog food factory and go right.  If you run into the tobacco fields, you've gone too far" this isn't so bad for me.  But I can understand the frustration of some.

Next up, the police.  I have a hearty respect for these guys.  Seriously, it is a billion degrees outside and these guys are in full military get up and just hanging out at check points or in their cars.  Mad respect, yo.

I don't think they do much to assuage the traffic or the drivers that are replaying all three Mad Max (soon to be 4...I don't wanna talk about it) movies as they go to the store for milk, but there they are as a reminder not to dick around.  I don't believe you can get a ticket here actually...they just remember your car and charge you for it when you eventually come in later to renew your registration.

It can often get so hot the police will light a fire on their SUV just to cool it off.

Every now and again you will come up to a checkpoint where a very intimidating military Hummer will be parked and a gentleman in a dark red beret will be standing there making sure you "get the hint" and behave.  Proactive...I like it.

Why yes, I will drive safely.  Thank you.

The last part about the driving I will comment on, is the driving part.  People often ask about getting a license here.  I wonder what for?  They have lines on the road, and people often stay in them.  Well, until there is a roundabout or any sort of hold up in traffic.  And then, much like a a fart in a drafty apartment, the rules right out the window...the cars, however, will be going right off the rood.  I have been passed by a pickup truck doing 120 km/hr in the sand shoulder of a rood.  

Was I mad?  HELL YES I WAS MAD!  My stupid car will barely do 80 km/hr off a cliff.  I want what he has.  I want to feel safe when I disregard my safety and the safety of others.

The driving here isn't governed by rules so much as it is governed by suggestions.  Here are some lines and a few signs, they say.  And then they slowly turned around and walked away leaving people with oil money and fast cars the keys to the biggest race track in the world: the Bahrain highway system.  Now, much like anything else, a few ridiculous examples make it seem like everyone drives like a maniac.  That simply isn't true.  Some have no idea how to drive, let alone drive like a maniac. 

U-Turns from the right lane?  Go for it.  

Don't want to wait for this light?  I don't think anyone will mind...off you go!

Headlights and blinkers are for pussies.

I should interject here one important point: I LOVE DRIVING HERE.  I am a habitual rule follower so I don't (car won't let me) speed very much etc.  I do, however, get a thrill knowing at any moment that dump truck could just take me out.
Me

I love the driving and the drivers are amusing.  Very often you just have to sit back and enjoy the show and hope they don't hit you.  Go ahead and make a turn down a rood you don't know.  You will eventually see something you do know and have a story to tell about that time you went and made a right on "Road K" which was in actuality a stairwell in the lobby of a large building.

Don't like traffic?  Go see the Tree of Life.  You won't be seeing anyone else out there.  Bring water and gas and a gun with a single bullet in case you break down.  Drive on a Friday morning while the country prays and/or sleeps off a long work week.  If you don't want to drive and risk you life - you can pay a guy a few dinars to risk your life for you.  

The land of opportunity.

Everyone saw the opportunity at once.





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