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.

My unedited take on the smell of putrid, rotting chicken zombies... 9/23/14

This past week has been a blur - even before accounting for all of the alcohol and the burst of light from cars that pass you doing 180 km while doing a U-Turn at a red light.

It all started last week - Wednesday maybe, who knows?  You don't.  That's for sure.  So let's make it Wednesday.

Ahh Wednesday...

I can teach you.

My kitchen has a dual sink - quite lovely - and while the water was often slow to drain, it had reliably gotten the heck down the drain eventually.  However, this Thurs...wait...Wednesday would be different.

The water behaved as water would, pooling up and slowly sliding down the drain.  As I stepped back from the sink and into the new pond in my kitchen I was taken aback that the water I had just sent down the drain had sneaked back into my house through the drain in the kitchen floor.  All of it.  It was a delightful demonstration of the conservation of water.  One drop in the sink equals one drop coming up through my drain.  Science had rarely seen such confirmation of proof of theory.

I informed the person one would inform about such things on the way to get my medical...

That reminds me...if, in Bahrain, you happen to be - ohhhh I dunno - as pale as me, for instance, be prepared to be the belle of the medical ball as you and 40 of your excessively tan brand new brethren take your shirts off for the chest X-Ray the doctors will promptly lose.  I swear if they stared any harder my image would be burned into their eyes for all eternity like a TV you left on the DVD intro screen too long and the image burned in...

Pale people are also delusional.

Anyway, the drain was clogged.  I had told the guy you tell about such things - and it is the weekend.  So I don't expect speedy delivery of service.  But I can't use my kitchen now.  The sneaky water prevents me from cooking since I can't wash any dishes.  Water in - water out.  A real pickle, if ya know what I mean.

Hello.  I love you.  Let me stink your place.

Hello.  I love you.  Let me give you gag face.

Sunday comes at work and I am assured through the guy you tell about such things that my place would be fixed immediately.  It was now a priority as fleshy bits had started to rise up through my drain and into my sinks, filling my house with an aroma that can only be described as "poisonous" if you were being kind.  It induced headaches and I was not keen on having any sparks or open flames around.

Sunday came.  Sunday went.  Monday for sure!  I was promised by the guy you tell about such things that today is the day!  I will go home to a...nooooooooope.  The smell was worse.  Adding to the awesome, the humidity crept into the billions which made not one, not two, but three air conditioners turn into the most delightful zen waterfalls.  So it was not to be on Monday.  I tried to isolate the small on the first floor but as we all know, zombie chicken smells are a fowl mistress indeed.  I woke up with the same headache and the same horrible taste.  

BUT TODAY WAS THE DAY!  I was double promised by the guy who you tell about such things and it was definitely going to happen.  He went to my villa and called it horrible and unlivable.  SCORE! Haha!  Soon I would be home and not see things in double through a green haze!

You'll never guess...

Oh.  You did. 

I came home to the putrid.  I came home to the haze.  I came home to the smell the guy you tell about such things assured me would not be there.

I was honestly depressed at this point.  I laid down, but was too upset and decided to go to the store for a few things.  When I returned, I did not expect to see the director of my school in a 3 piece suit standing in my driveway.  I had sent him an email earlier, and he apparently wanted this fixed.

The bog boss.  The head honcho.  The big easy.  The greasy palm.  I don't know sayings well, but here he was.  He was on the phone with not one, but two companies.  He brought in the guy who you tell about these things and he was there working on my drain with his friend.  Soon after a whole van full of the 6 stooges rolled up with pressure washers at the ready.  I am fairly certain at this point in time I have the cleanest pipes in the Gulf.

So, not only did my boss take notice, he showed up, supervised and ran calls for two hours while he was supposed to be attending a dinner, and when it was all done...he rolled up his sleeves and mopped my floor.  Then, sleeves still a-rolled, he wiped down my sink and told me if anything else happens, to let him know immediately.

I have had a lot of bosses in my day.  Most average, a few good, a few worse than slamming your fingers in a car door for 20 minutes after running steel wool over them and taking a lemon juice and salt bath.  

I have never seen this before - hell I have never heard of this before.

So I take dumps on his lawn less frequently now.  Just goes to show you what a kind gesture and really doing a bang-up job cleaning someone's sink can do for your relationship.

As for the guy you tell these things to, I knew I recognized him from somewhere...

First Impressions 8/25/14

A lot of people that I thought didn't really care about what I did all of a sudden had a very large interest in my landing in a new land.  Especially the (insert scary music) Middle East!

**gasps**

**Wilhelm scream**

So what were my first impressions?  Well, funny you should ask because I was just thinking about what I would write if someone actually asked me that and here we are.

What a coincidence.

I came from the UK and had some fun over there with a few guys I know that are stand up comics.  They showed me a good time, complimented my ability to drink more than what would kill a mortal man, and also told some jokes.  Laughs were had.

Oh, and if you ever go to Edinburgh, visit that castle.  It is easy to find, just go up.  It was a real highlight of the trip.

Edinburgh Castle

But I digress...or I have already digressed...guess that is up to your discretion...

So wheels down in Dubai for about 2 hours gave me my first taste of the gulf area.  First of all, Dubai is so far and away larger and more western than any airport over here.  It was huge.  Gigantic.  Great duty free shopping also, good deal on Bacardi and I even used my American Credit Card for the first overseas transaction.  Worked like a charm, (until I saw the international surcharge, of course).

There were what you would expect - a lot of tan, middle eastern men of all ages.  Older men having perfect Ron Swanson mustaches, and the younger men in skinny jeans and aviators.  There were some in the white robes and head dress, some in shorts and a t-shirt.  Women were ranging from completely covered to tank tops and flip flops.  There were also a lot of Australians because that is a big hub for them or something.  I wasn't listening because all I could think of was an article I read where Australia got drunk and drove through the Panama Canal into the Atlantic because they were tired of being ignored.  What? There were white people and black people, tan and Asian.  Oh...My...GAWD!  And they are all walking around and interacting like they don't hate each other! I wasn't sure what to make of it to start - was I or wasn't I in the Middle East?

After Dubai gave me a reality check that things here may not be exactly as portrayed in your favorite fictional TV show, be it FOX News or MSNBC or CNN, but it may be something much better.

I landed in Manama, the capital city, (and let's be honest, probably the only real city in Bahrain) and I was met outside the gate by a lovely women with a sign.  The sign had 4 names, mine, and some very long Indian names.  After working through the three long names she came to mine and we agreed that it was me after all.  She smiled a hurried "let's get your pale ass through here so I can find these other three people" smile, and off we went.  She helped me through customs - which was actually quick and painless. The worst was waiting for the luggage - a lot of traveling families and they all were loaded with luggage.  I had never seen so much luggage.  4 and 5 huge suitcases per family plus carry on, three of the luggage trolly's per group, and the luggage came out at such random intervals I thought for sure it was lost to the great luggage cloud in the sky.  But after a long wait out my bag came.  I would like to point out I didn't own a suitcase before I flew here, so I have no real gauge of how long it should take.  I just like to complain.  But there was my glorious bag.  Beat up, but there it was in its entirety.

Manama International Airport

I was met by my new secondary principal after clearing customs and applying for my residents card, and we walked outside.  Now, they tell you it is hot here.  They put up stats.  They convert Fahrenheit to Celsius.  Let me tell you something: fuck, it is hot.  When the humidity is high enough to take a drink of water that is in danger of boiling.  That first week was outrageous.  I can't even use hot to describe it.  I feel like that would be like referring to a lion as a pussy cat.  The lion will mess you up - eat your face and wear your pelvis as a festive attempt at being hip.  A pussy cat will probably ignore you until it is your tune to sleep in.  The same...but different...see?

This is the kind of hot you don't take home to meet mom and dad.  The kind of hot you read about in dirty magazines, (No, YOU'RE old!) and then one day there it is.  And it is hotter than you ever imagined.  You grab it but and feel its heat just pou....what was I saying?

Oh right...dirty magazines...

I don't know if I mentioned it, but it was hot, but we got to the car and we left in a haze of glory.  I was tired but alert as my boss-guide pointed out a few things.  What burger joint is okay, yes the tattoos are okay, people here drive like maniacs, the usual.  

My first impression of the country after the heat donkey punch was this: Tan.  Everything is tan.  The building are concrete and tan.  There are also lots of buildings being built - these will inevitably be tan as well.  See that building over there?  Is it tan?  No?  Then keep driving because you're not in Bahrain.  

Now that I have ventured out I know this isn't the case, and in fact the biuldings here are can be painted in quite a array of colors, but coming from where I was, tan was worse than wearing white after labor day.  Wait...before labor day?  Whatever it is, tan houses back home were like that.

Juffair Houses

The roads were nice, (it is still a "new" country so they haven't gotten boogered up yet, and the snow plows don't do near the damage as back home) and the scenery was very pleasant.  People walking and biking despite the fact that someone left the country on "BROIL" and went out for the summer.  Birds and palm trees not bursting into flames even though I am fairly certain the country touches the Sun in places.  Nice cars and beautiful mosques and skyscrapers - and a lot of construction.

The Grand Mosque

My first impression was not as radical as some have had, but it is an impression.  My Robin Williams impression may not be the same as yours, either.  No big deal.  As I started to make the way out of my villa and into the island I discovered a lot more.  But in all honestly, apart from the buildings, Bahrain reminded me of parts of Texas...but where everyone had traded in their pickup truck for a Nissan Tilda.

It's a small island, and 20 minutes later I was inside my new house.  I must admit my school really did supply their employees with a very choice setup.  I got home and got some food in me that didn't come in airline vacu-sealed packaging, and promptly got some sleep.

My Villa

As I was falling asleep I didn't have any thoughts of "What are you doing!?" or "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" like some said I would.  I was happy.  I was looking forward to it.

Everything was going to be just fine.  As soon as the Sun stopped hugging the island, everything was going to be just fine.

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