The age old question.....Is common courtesy only a Southern thing?

I have traveled to many countries and experienced many different cultures, but nothing compares to Arabic culture.  I'm not going to say that EVERYONE here in Bahrain (or in all Arabic countries) is rude, but dang!  I feel like many people are lacking what I like to call the "common courtesy gene." When I visited France, everyone said "Oh...the French hate Americans." No....most people were extremely nice and helpful.  When I went to Spain, they said the Spanish were stuck up. No..they were some of the happiest and friendliest people I have met (that might be because of the massive amounts of tinto verano they drink). I've traveled all over Central America and I would actually love to call any of those countries home one day.  But Bahrain....I cannot adapt to the culture.
It's the little things that you don't have to think about in the States that seem to stare you so blatantly in the face here.  I guess coming from the South has tainted my view of a lot of cultures.  I'm not saying that Southerners are the most friendliest (we do have some racist rednecks in our mix), but we are known for our "charm."  I tend to smile at people as I pass them in the street, saying "hi" many times.  I don't cut in line or jump in front of people at restaurants....I was brought up to believe that that was rude.  It appears that here anything goes.  Should I cut you off in traffic without using my blinker going 90 mph? Sure. Should I cut in front of the line of 30 people at the DMV because my business is much more important? Of course. Did I block the aisle and then roll my eyes when you asked to get by? Heck yeah!  I find it interesting that people seem to lack common courtesies and everyone acts like it's okay....how did this happen?  Here's a prime example:  A few days ago I had a minor emergency at my house. I was supposed to go pick up my Captain America because his car wasn't starting, but, of course, my car wouldn't start either.  I didn't have my cell phone, so I tried to call CA on my Skype account.  No internet. (This was also the same day that we had no water for over 24 hours, but I digress.) What to do? Well, in the States I would just pop over to the neighbor's house and ask to borrow their phone.  So that's what I did.  Because I live in a local neighborhood with not many other ex-pats, I made sure I was covered up (jeans and a sweater in sweltering heat) and walked next door.  As I rang the doorbell, I had a feeling that this wouldn't go well.  A man about my age came to the gate and let me in to the courtyard.  I explained the situation and he told me to wait while he got a phone.  So I waited until The Situation happened.  No, not the chiseled abs, fist pumping Situation, but the Big Mama situation happened. Through the open door, I heard a woman yelling angrily in Arabic (Arabic always sounds angry to me anyway).  Around the corner comes this very, VERY large woman with very bad teeth in a mu-mu.  When I saw her, I knew it had gone down hill so I started backing towards the gate.  As she walked towards me yelling God (or Allah) knows what, I realized that I was not going to be asking to borrow a cup of sugar, more or less a cell phone.  I got the heck out of there rather quickly, slamming the gate to my house as I went.  All I could think was that I hope that I never have a real emergency because I definitely can't count on my neighbor to help me out in a time of need.
Many people would get angry and just say "When in Rome...," but I don't want to lose my common courtesies.  It is frustrating, and I doubt I'll understand it, but it is what it is here.  So I just keep smiling on and not let anyone get under my skin.....but I do make sure to give my neighbor a stink eye every time I pull out of my garage.

This just in.....American girl up the creek without a Volvo.

One of my worst nightmares came true this week. Well, sort of.  How scary is it to be stranded some where with no one able to help you? Well...I can now relate.  A couple of days ago I took a nice little trip to one of the fabulous malls here in Manama before I went to a much dreaded orthodontist appointment.  Upon completion of my little shopping excursion, I hopped into my car, turned the key, and *silence*.....nothing happened.  Of course I could have panicked, but I did what any normal girl in America would do...I called my boyfriend.  After Captain America calmed me down, I decided to hightail it to my ortho appointment...in high heels....down the highway....in 100 degree heat.  I know....not the brightest idea in the world, but for the past month I've had a broken wire hanging out in my mouth and wanted that sucker removed!  I made it to my appointment on time and an hour and a half later....after much drilling and a new permanent retainer installed.  I decided to wait for my knight in shining Civic to come pick me up.  Please remember that it gets dark early here...as in 530pm.  As I waited for him to show up, I stood waiting on the corner of the block...in the dark (not another bright idea).  Shortly there after, I noticed an SUV flashing it's lights at me.  The SUV slowly approached...with my heart beginning to race....and a man rolled down his window.  Before he could ask "How much?" I was saved by the Captain.  It was then that I realized that the lovely Russian women that I had noticed walking around the building probably weren't residents...and most likely were "ladies of the night"......and that man thought I was too!

So what to do about my abandoned car?  Get it towed, of course! But, no, that would be too easy....in America at least.  After several phone calls the next day I was able to get a tow truck out to my car.  Here's how it went:
Me: Hi! Thank you for coming out here. Okay, I need you to tow my car to Volvo Motor City. Can you do that? Can you drive slow so that I can follow you because I don't know how to get there.
Driver 1: *confused look to Driver 2* No speak English.
Me: Seriously, then. WTF?!?!?!?!?
Yes, eventually my car made it to Volvo....after standing out in the hot sun trying to converse with the drivers in my limited Arabic and their non-existent English for about an hour.  So what happened once I got to Volvo? My car cranked and all the men at the dealership gave me THE look. You girls know that look....the stupid-girl-doesn't-know-anything look.  This one was almost exactly the same, but throw in some stupid-American-girl and you get the idea.  After pleading with them to at least check the car out, I left feeling dejected.  The next day I received a call from the service manager saying absolutely nothing was wrong with my car and he would come pick me up from my house to get my car. Uh....back in the states I don't climb in a car with just any man, so why would I even think of doing that in the Middle East?!?!? When he arrived to the house it was already dark outside so there was no way I was going on an adventure with the possible perv! So, I ran outside with my weapon of choice in my pocket (a potato peeler....don't knock it! they're sharp!) and grabbed my car keys from him and ran back in, slamming doors in the process.  The end, right? No.  My car still died on me again last night. What'd we do to get it running again?  Jump started it off of Captain America's car.....which promptly killed his car.

We just can't win, can we?!

Hello, Madame. My name is Chewton....I wash car.

Bahrain is definitely built on a servant society...and it's not exactly hidden behind closed doors.  Yes, we have a maid.  We could have a live-in maid because our house is equipped with separate maids' quarters, but I just can't wrap my head around the fact that someone would be doing EVERYTHING for me.  I know that servants (I don't particularly like that word, but that's what they're called here) are more common in countries outside of America, but I really wasn't prepared for just how commonplace they are here.  Upon moving into our house, a very slight, young Indian woman named Rami showed up at our gate.  She was sent my our landlord to be our maid.  At about $50 a month, she cleans....and I do mean she cleans the hell out of everything!  Our house has lots of stone and marble, so I am definitely thankful for the cleaning help, but I still like to do some of the cleaning myself (totally type-A, I know).  I thought that would be the end of the help, but I walked out into the courtyard one morning still wearing my boxers and a tank and nearly collided with a man watering the garden.  Okay, the term "garden" is used very loosely here...if you have a potted plant, they call it a garden.  Apparently we have two gardeners that come every other morning.  Nice, but being scared to death was not the way I wanted to start my day.  Car washing is another hot job here.  I can't tell you how many people have rung our doorbell asking if we need our car washed or our courtyard washed as well.  The going rate for a car wash is 1BD, or $2.66.  A lot of Americans hire the locals to come and wash their cars and courtyards almost daily....one guy down the road pays 13BD per month to have his car/courtyard washed every other day.  Ridiculous!

So what? Everyone has maids here...but that's not all.  It's funny how when you take a step back you truly do see the class system here.  Indians/Pakistanis generally get stuck with working the household chores and doing building and road construction.  Any one from an Asian country is going to be working in the restaurants or the salons.  There is such a huge population of third-country nationals here that they have started a new campaign called "Hire Bahraini" in order to decrease the unemployment rate of true blood Bahrainis.  It's weird that there are also so many Americans here as well, but if they aren't employed by the naval base, they're most likely stay-at-home moms (no offense to anyone!) because no one else will hire them. 

I like the idea of having someone here to help me cook and clean, but I guess I was raised too well by my mother.  It actually kinda bothers me to see someone else doing all the work that I would normally be doing myself, but hey...I guess I can kick back to enjoy the Middle Eastern experience for now!

My aunt lives in the Bahrain.....

Apparently living in Bahrain is something to boast about...at least to my four year old niece, Syd.  According to my sister-in-law, Mel, Syd has been telling complete strangers that I live in Bahrain. In fact, her preschool teacher told Mel that Syd was making up stories about her Aunt Jess that lived in "the Bahrain."  Well, everyone. It is true..I live in the Bahrain.  When I heard this, it made me wonder: Is it something to boast about living here?  I guess it is!  Before I came out here everyone told me how this was a once in a life time experience.  When else in my life would I get to live in the Middle East?  Well, I'm here and I need to learn to not take it for granted.

I'm always trying to come up with words to describe Bahrain, but I can never fully express myself.  The one word that I keep coming back to is: interesting.  How is it interesting? Well, let me give you a few examples:
- It really is like the movies: women wear burqas and men wear thoubs (or man-dress as I refer to it).
- Everyone speaks English (for the most part) .
- I get lost because there are never street signs here.
- Those lovely houses you see in pictures, I swear they are made out of legos...hopefully we will never have an earthquake.
- I thought I would be going to the local markets for my vegetables...puh-leez. Only if I wanted a salad with a side of dysentery.
- The water in the Gulf is soooo beautiful....until you find out what they dump in the water (really...you don't want to know).
- Stink eye and stink lip....you better perfect it here with the amount of dirty looks that are going to be slung your way!
- I am honestly Casper the Friendly American Ghost.  The lady at the MAC counter said: I have never put make-up on someone so pale.
- I have no clue how many different animals make up the meat in a "Mixed Grill."
- Yes, they do serve camel here. No, I do not want to try.
- I did not honestly believe that that many uni-brows could survive in one place without everything spontaneously combusting.
- Censorship is king here!
- I have a maid...enough said.
- If I see another dish made with dates, I'm going to puke!
- A man can have up to four wives at a time. Now before all the guys get excited at the idea...think of all the nagging and cat fights and money you'd have to spend!
- Everything is the color of sand: the houses, the roads, the cars......
- The list could go on and on.....Todo, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!

Welcome to Bumper Car Bahrain

Driving.  It's something that I definitely took for granted back in the states.  When I moved to WarTown, I said: These are the worst drivers in the entire world.  Well, I stand corrected.  The worst drivers in the world live in Bahrain.  From the moment I first got into a car here in Bahrain, I knew that I would not like driving here at all.  It is an art form....and one that I will never truly understand.  To put it lightly, everyone here thinks that they are a Nascar driver and that obviously their cars are made of an indestructible material.  It seems that everyone has either two speeds: pedal to the metal, haulin' ass or slower than a dying snail.  I believe this type of driving stems from the fact that if you would like to have a Bahraini driver's license (which I have opted to not get) you must attend a driving school and complete over 100 hours of driving supervised by an instructor.  Because everyone has completed this course, they all consider themselves "professional drivers."  That being said, this school must be taught by a one-eyed maniac (no offense) because driving, for the ex-pats at least, is a lesson in survival skills.  In order to successfully make it to your destination (i.e. not being killed in a fiery crash) you must be able to do several things: watch out for drivers coasting into your lane at top speeds (80+mph), watch for women wearing burqas (sorry...they do inhibit the driver's line of vision!),  avoid trucks with lots of furniture and appliances precariously perched in the back, and once you have arrived at your destination you need to park as far away from everyone else as possible.  Unfortunately, we all know the law of parking physics: if you park in an open parking lot, someone will come and park right beside you. And if you're in Bahrain...they will take up three spots and open their door repeatedly on your driver's side.  You would also think that with the type of cars some people drive here (I'm talking Maybachs, Lamborghinis, Bentleys...etc) they would take amazing care of their care...WRONG! It seems the more expensive the car, the more blatantly they flirt with driving danger.  I don't have enough fingers and toes to count on how many times I have narrowly missed being rear-ended by a Rover or being hit crossing the road by some dummy talking on his mobile while driving his Maserati like it was 1995 Mitsubishi Galant! If you were to film everyone driving on the highway from above, you would believe that everyone was heavily intoxicated by the amount of swerving and weaving that goes on!

I'll be honest.  It took me over a month to work up the courage to drive and only then because I bought my own car.  At first I was timid on the road....just barely edging out into traffic and cautiously waiting in the turn lane.  Now, I drive like a Bahraini (well...I think better, but that's my opinion).  Can my car fit into that tiny spot between two cars....why not?  Am I going to cut you off? Of course!  Do I need to floor it the 200 feet to the next stop light? Life is short! I am King of the Road here! At least until I get pulled over....

Room for one at the Ramadan

Everyone has heard of it, but not many Americans are actually familiar with it.  What time is it? It's Ramadan time! Between 11 August to 9 September it is the Islamic time of prayer and fasting, meaning that before sunset there will be no eating, drinking, or smoking in public.  But that's not all! I was recently informed that not only will I not be able to eat in public (not a hard thing to do), but I could be arrested for my clothing.  During Ramadan I could potentially be arrested for wearing clothing that did not cover my legs and did not cover my elbows.  I never thought that my elbows were sexy, but apparently they are arrest worthy.  Although I might find some of these rules silly, they are what they are and I will oblige them out of respect.  Of course, though, there are some positives for us ex-pats during Ramadan.  FEASTS!  At sundown every restaurant/hotel sets out huge, delicious buffets for everyone to partake in.  There are also festivals on the beach here at some of the major resorts.  One draw back, even though this country permits the selling of alcohol (at hotels only), there is no alcohol sales during the month of Ramadan! 
But every day here is a learning experience and I learned something about alcohol here yesterday.  I will NOT be going out, drinking in up in the bars!  The blood alcohol level here is 0.0.  I have heard too many stories of people being pulled over with a blood alcohol content of 0.01 and being thrown in jail (it also takes at least two days to test blood alcohol here..so you could be waiting in jail for a while).  They take drinking and driving very seriously here....as in no tolerance!  So, not even a one drink limit for me! I'll just dim my living room lights,turn on some music, pretend I'm in a bar, and sip my wine in the privacy of my own home!!

The girl has a mini skirt....and isn't afraid to use it.

My plane landed around 9PM on Saturday, 24 July 2010.  I had been flying/sitting in an airport for almost 24 anxious hours.  After having traveled for so long, all I wanted to see was the person who got me into this world-traveling mess: my boyfriend, Capt America.  Now, Capt America really is a Captain, but not for the Avengers, rather for the US Air Force and he had been stationed at the Naval Base in Al Manama, Bahrain.  I told him I was adventurous and wanted to have an adventure.....I was in for a surprise.

Squatting
When we found out we were moving to Bahrain, we did our homework, or so we thought.  We learned Bahrain was a tourist country; they were progressive Muslims; they liked their alcohol (but only at hotels); I would be able to wield by mini skirts; they spoke English.  I was sold.  My first rude awakening came after being reunited with my love; I had to pee.  Navigating into a confusing bathroom, I was confronted with a hole in the ground.  Was there a mistake?  I wasn't supposed to go to the bathroom in that, was I?  I checked the other stalls, much to the amusement of a snickering 8yr old girl in there with me. Yes.  They really did expect me to squat.  After having mastered that event, I felt like I was already an Arabic world professional.  Turns out, most bathrooms aren't truly like that here in Bahrain.  I think they put those squatters there just to weed out the weak.

It's getting hot in here........

Before I left everyone said, I hope you sure do like it hot.  Yes, I realized that it would be hot, but I didn't know just how hot it really would be.  Arriving to Bahrain late at night, I didn't realize just how hot it would feel.  At 9PM it was 99 degrees with about 80% humidity.  Good thing I'm not really big on makeup or we would have a serious problem.  For the next week, the low would be around 100, highs edging dangerously close to 120.  Although we Georgians pride ourselves for being able to withstand incredible heat waves, I was not prepared for that.  As I unpacked my suitcase, I left my bathing suits in their little bag: All my visions of laying out on our roof top deck were quickly squashed with the oppressive wall of heat that I was encountered with once I opened the door.