Musings on Bahrain

Slightly more than 2 weeks in Bahrain and we're feeling rather settled. Alot has to do with moving into our permanent accommodation and being able to unpack and do mundane stuff like grocery shopping and searching for a clock etc.

I love the East meets West diversity here-reminds me very much of Singapore in many ways.

Seef Mall makes me feel as if I've never left the UK. With Marks & Sparks, Debenhams, BHS, La Senza, River Island, Assecorise, Claire's, Topshop, Oasis, Mango and Zara all under one roof, it's like having the best shopping streets of Edinburgh and Glasgow combined. The only thing the mall lacks is a big book store like Waterstones or Ottakars. There is Bookplus, a tiny one that sells only a meagre selection of paperbacks and hardbacks, presumably the more popular ones that sold in the Western world. There isn't much choice there, and I like my choices in shopping for books.

At the upper level of Seef Mall, there are two food courts, one at each end, which is a huge feature in most malls in Singapore. Great selection as well-BK, KFC, Maccy D's, Subway, Fuddruckers and an amalgamation of Middle Eastern, Asian and American cuisine.

On the other end of the scale, a five minutes car journey away takes you to the more traditional Souq district, where most locals and foreign labourers feel more at home. With its dirty back alleys and shop owners beckoning to you, Souq exudes even more charm than snobby malls with big brands without even trying.

Yes, a woman walking in the area not dressed in the traditional black garments attract a lot of unwanted attention, but in my case, RJ stares them all down, so it's ok. On Fridays the Souq is chocker blocked with indians, and they very blatantly stare down your chest. When I fix them with an icy stare, they meet your eyes then quickly dart down to the cleavage again.

All the same, that aside, Souq offers so much more for so much less money, in terms of both food and clothes. A typical meal for the local - pratas, curry and a drink (if you even opt for a drink. Most locals take advantage of free tap water. And tap water is not portable here) - costs you no more than 800 fils, which is just over a pound, and it's both yummy and filling.

Similarly, compared to paying 19BD for a mass-produced pair of simple black trousers from Zara, you can get choose a fabric of your liking and get it tailored for about 6BD. Great workmanship, and you get so much gratitude from the shopkeeper and tailor.

However, that's not to say I'm willing to forfeit my fondness of shopping in the highly consumerised Zara and paying more than double what I would pay for a shirt to have it tailored at the Souq. Nope, I'm still shallow and I like shopping in air-conditioned comfort brandishing a Zara paper bag. However, I'm not daft enough to be caught up in spending good money on top brands like Gucci, Prada, or even Guess. I just like my high street shops.

I'm glad that I am able to wear whatever clothes I buy on the outisde without having to shroud them under a layer of black. Speaking of women in black, while I was walking along the corridor outside a mall a few days ago, I received a nasty, nasty shock when a figure covered head to toe in black (yes, all over, as in you can't even see the eyes!) suddenly emerged from behind a wall and thrusted an arm out to me. Imagine Darth Vadar-only not in metal but fabric-you catch my drift. I was so shell-shocked I was shaking, and needless to say, the fact that she was asking for money didn't even sink in till much later.

You don't see many able-bodied beggars here at all. So far, we've seen only a handful of beggars, mostly disabled. We're partial to helping out disabled people here, simply because we do not think the state here provides half as much benefits for them as they do in the UK.

There was this one time (in band camp...) when we were having dinner in a food court and through the window saw this disabled beggar begging outside the mall downstairs. We later saw him in the same foodcourt and wanted very much to give him some cash, but I was afraid that since he was having his dinner and was begging no more, he may feel offended if we do put some money on his table. So we debated about it, spent sometime loitering around his table and in the end, on the pretext of buying a drink at the stall near him, neared his table, made eye contact and gave him some money after we received good vibes. Later, we wondered who benefited more from the gesture-our conscience or his purse.

Poor people here do something, anything about their situation, which is more than what I can say about the homeless in the UK, who sit their able-bodied arses on manky blankets on the streets, hardly begging cos that's waay too much effort, simply putting a paper Starbucks cup alongside their poor mutts subject to starvation and the harsh Scottish cold while their owners reward them by tying them to the bollard outside the pub while they spend their change and benefits at the pub on Rose Street. No, poor people here loiter on dividers on the roads, selling their wares - bottled water, flower garlands, newspapers, fruits - to passing vehicles. They have more dignity than simply sitting on their arses expecting spare change from passers-by.

I will be starting work tomorrow, and I'm sure I'll run into many an interesting situation with clients from the Middle East. I'm looking forward to being a professional again. Being a kept women is so not for me.

Working World, Here I Come Again

I was offered a job on Day 16 in Bahrain! Technically, that was not the first job I was offered, but I had the foresight to turn down the first offer from a dodgy pharmaceutical products marketing company, who offered a laughable pittance they termed salary.

The contact RJ's colleague provided, Betsy, got a rave reference for myself from Dave (yes I owe him a big one, and I promised to sit him next to a hot bird at my wedding reception in Dec), invited me for a 'business lunch' on Thursday to meet Jojo, the other colleague. I was taken to Zoe's, a posh restaurant that served great food at low, low prices (5BD for a three course meal!). We ate too much, consumed too much wine and chatted away about life in Bahrain. I was given the low-down on where to go and what to do as expats here. Two and a half hours later, Betsy dropped me home and I headed straight for the pool armed with a good book. RJ joined me minutes later back from choosing the colour of our new 4WD, and we promptly fell asleep on the deck chair. I was woken up after sunset by a call from Betsy saying she had my contract ready.

When the inital joy of finding a job died down (which was very soon), I wondered if they were ripping me off with the salary. It was decent by local standards...but if was a UK based company, and I seemed to be getting an expat contract, with a return flight home a year. It's a lot more than what most locals get here, but compared to UK standards, it was pathetic. Should I compare it at all? I really don't know what the market rate is here, and I need advice.

I'm come to the conclusion that I will stick it out on the salary for a while, prove my worth, and then demand more. The commission structure is brilliant, and if I pulled my socks up, I could be heaping it in.

To celebrate my new-found employed status, RJ and I went to the Crown Plaza for brunch on Friday. It was a fabulous spread-plenty of seafood, roasts, and best of all, free-flow champagne. We were properly inebriated.

It's great being an expat here. We've moved into our permanent apartment, and everyone treats us like royalty. We get great food for a fraction of the cost compared to the UK. I just need to get working and expand my social circle. Then, I have a feeling I'll get to like it here too much to leave!

Onward, Soldier

It's Saturday aka Monday of the work week in the Middle East, so RJ's back to work while my hunt for a job resumes.

I've had a few interviews a couple of days ago. I had a call on Wed night while I was having dinner from some guy with a heavy Arab accent.

"Hello, you apply for job with us. Can you come for interview tomorrow at 1030am?"

"Right. Can you tell me who this is, and what job this is you are calling with regads to?"

"Ah you apply for job you cannot remember. This is Lati and we are at ktfkstfstfdtfksfbnbc va,dg (??)"

"I'm sorry-where did you say you are?"

"ygdlifaughvb."

"Erm, can you spell that out for me?"

"Kuwaiti Building. Kuwiat big country you don't know!"

The cheeky git. Like I could understand him with his think Arab accent. And how rude.

But this is the typical attitude of alot of Arabs, as I have experienced in my short time here. One guy literally pushed past me to get into the supermarket this morning, and being used to chivalry in the UK, I was appalled and very offended, so in turn, I pushed past him on the escalator. Humph.

Anyway, it turned out that they weren't located in Kuwaiti Building after all. It was in some dingy building adjacent to it that doesn't even have a name. I went for the interview not knowing what the company does, but upon stepping into the office, I knew the job wasn't for me. Besides being situated in a dodgy area of town, the office itself was quite run down, with 80s furniture. I was ushered into a room with 3 Arab guys; none of them bothered to stand up nor introduce themselves when I entered, so I took the initiative to introduce myself and shake their hands. This further reiteratered my initial gut feel. Two of the guys didn't even introduce themselves back when I shook their hands.

So one of the guys started uttering away in speedfire yet unintelligible English. I got the gist that they wanted me to draft a letter to a UK company asking if we could represent them to market their new medical product in the Middle East. And alot of this was speculation, cos I honestly had difficulty in understanding him. I was whisked away to a computer and expected to carry out the task, without knowing what the company does etc etc. I had to ask the guy who showed me to the desk what the company was all about, and he was kind enough to oblige.

I blagged something out about blah blah market share, blah blah market leader, and injected some totally fictatious figures and percentages, printed the thing out, handed it over and that was that. They asked me to think about what sort of salary I wanted and get back to them. I had half a mind to quote something ridiculously high, since I didn't want the job, just so I could see their reaction, but thought better of it.

Second job interview was much better. The office was located in a reputable building in the CBD area, and the lady was lovely. She sounded Filippino, and she's an expat from the Dubai office. Some kind of security/payment solutions provider, waay over my head. She seemed to like me enough, cos she called me a few hours later just as RJ and I were heading back from the off-license with out loot going to unwind over a few beers, and asked if I could go back that evening to meet with the senior engineer. So I did, and it went fine.

Speaking of off-licenses, this must be the only one in Bahrain, and they actually have a drive-thru!! It must be for those Arabs who don't want to be recognised stepping into an offy to get contraband goods. The offy had no windows, and all goods bought are put into unmarked black plastic bags. Hehehe. Prices are similar to the UK, but the wine selection was very disappointing.

Anyway, third interview was more like a chat with a Bahrain based UK recruitment agency. The lady was a contact from RJ's colleague. She just had a huge contract come in recruiting for over 150 positions for one of the Big 4s who incidentally was one of my clients in Edinburgh, and she needed help. All sounded very appealing until she hummed and hawed that resources from the UK have dried up and she has to check if they have sufficient funds for a salary, and if I don't mind I could work on a commission basis. Hello, I am not a charity case, so she'd better get the funds thru or she won't see me again.

RJ and went to a the Sherlock Holmes pub at the Gulf hotel, a huge expat hang out. There were soo many yanks there, and they are easy to spot cos of their no.2 haircut. There's a huge army/naval/air base here and they arrive in droves.

One would've thought they were in the UK in there, if not for the 'Bahrain is shite' conversations taking place left right and centre.

We left the work colleagues after a few drinks and went to JJ's, Bahrain's only Irish pub, or so they claim. Again. very typically British expect for the SPGs out on the hunt. Reminds me of Singapore.

Both pubs we went to had the cheesy trademark red telephone box at the entrance. Maybe it's local knowledge for 'expat hangout'.

On Friday after monging about watching DVDs in the morning, we took off in search of the beach, and we found it after a 45 min drive. It was roasting, but the sea breeze was very welcome. We dipped our toes in the sea, and we just wanted to jump in cos it was so warm. We saw an Arab family playing about in the sea and honest to god, the women remain in their full black garb in the sea!!! They emerged soaking wet with their garb clinging to them, and to them it seems the most natural thing to do. It was seriously bizarre.

On the other end of the scale, we saw 2 skimpily dressed local girls with their friend who was covered in black out for lunch one day. It really seemed so incongruous. These two girls were wearing seriously low hipsters which was too tight for them with their belly hanging out, and my trademark handkerchiefs. One of the waiters was so obviously staring at them, and who can blame him. It was a rare treat to see flesh of the local girls. He was still staring unabashedly as we were leaving the restaurant 30 min later.

As I'm typing away right this moment, there are 3 men cleaning the apartment. They do this everyday-I'm getting used to getting fresh sheets and towels everyday! We are moving to our permanent apartment very soon though. There will still be maid service, but no fresh sheets.

The Search for Employment

Recruitment is not at its peak at this time, with people going on their summer holidays and ramadan approaching. Still, I'm trying my best, buying the local papers everyday looking through the classifieds and checking out websites of every recruitment agency in town-which isn't all that many at all compared to Edinburgh.

I went for a interviews with a couple of recruitment agencies yesterday, not working for them, but for them to assist me. It was funny being a candidate again, having being on the other side of the table in the past 1.5 years. And to be honest, from what I've experienced, the recruitment consultants here aren't anything to scream about.

The first girl Nadia wasn't too bad, apart from her less than professional appearance. She studied in London, and we had a chat about differences between the UK and here. I noticed she her interviewing techniques weren't the best. She didn't find out much at all!! However, she was very encouranging, saying that I wouldn't have a problem finding a job here with my experience. I'm not that naive to believe every word. Come on, all recruitment consultants are lying shite, and I know cos I was one myself!!!

I knew the second recruitment agency was a mistake as soon as I stepped into it. A shabby office which consisted of even shabbier looking staff lacking in professionalism. Nima who interviewed me was nice enough, but I was the one asking all the questions. I set through copy typing, Excel and PowerPoint tests, only for them to tell me afterwards that they only specialise in secretarial vacancies, and they do not have anything suitable now with the market being so slow. Yup, the usual recruitment consultant spiel I recognise so well.

I was going to meet RJ for lunch after the second interview as he was going to be in town, so I set down with a hot choc in the mall waiting for him, when a turbaned sikh approached and looked as if he was going to sit down next to me.

"Can I talk to you?" asked he.

"Erm...I'm actually expecting someone," said a somewhat uncomfortable me.

Not that the Turban listened, cos he plonked himself next to me and open his leather briefcase, and proceeded to explain that he saw me at the recruitment agency and was wondering if I knew any other as he was too looking for a job.

Ah.

So, I told him what I knew, and he provided the number of one which he went to. Seeing RJ still haven't arrived, I called the number and a voice with a familiar accent answered. She was Sarah, who also relocated to Bahrain from the UK, and who was in recruitment for 6 years prior to that. She told me from her experience that recruitment here is much less popular than the UK, and salaries for a consultant is way inferior. She also said that consultants here aren't very helpful, and advised me not to bank on them coming to me offering jobs on a silver platter. In the end, she did ask me to send her my CV and she will see what she can do.

It was nice speaking to Sarah.

It was unspeakably hot and humid yesterday, and I wasn't allowed my trademark minis and handkerchiefs, and was instead in smart trousers and dress shirt. Walking out of the mall I wanted to cry. Sweat and oil just oozed out of every pore, and I was incredibly uncomfortable.

Oh, find of the week: RJ and I stumbled across a small streetside stall that served - get this - prata!!!! How chuffed was I!! The locals were looking at me incredulously as I squealed excitedly over the prata and mutton curry.

We have settled for an apartment at the great place we saw on the edge of the sea-the one with the tennis, squash and tennis courts. Not that being next to the sea has any other perks other than the sea view, cos in this part of the world, one does not wear a bikini in public. Suntanning is confined to the poolside. Still, our apartment on the 8th level offers a great view out to sea-can see cannot touch. The apartment as yet is unfinished, so we're due to move in in about a week.

Culture Shock

I've been lucky enough to travel a bit in my time, but I have to say, Bahrain is the first country where I've experienced what one might call a Culture Shock. Not a huge one, but one all the same.

On Day 2 after a much needed good night's sleep, I was raring to go explore the city, so after breakfast, I put on a what I'd term a conservative skirt (waayy past my knees. Mid-calf length, in fact) and a sleeveless top that wasn't showing any cleavage ( a rare entity in my wardobe) and skipped down to the reception to find out directions to the bus stop and bus information.

"No, you cannot take bus with skirt. I call taxi for you" I was swiftly curtailed by the surly receptionist.

"Right, I'll go up to change into a pair of jeans, but could you tell me how to get to the bus stop from here?"

"No ma'm, you cannot take bus. You don't know Bahrain, you get lost." Irritation was seeping through my system. I wasn't used to being refused directions. According to the Lonely Planet, there is a bus service to town!

"I will ask people for directions. Please just tell me how to get to the bus station."

"Ma'm, you don't know Bahrain. The Bahrainis are good people, but in Bahrain there are many people-from Gulf, Saudi. You cannot trust people here. You wait, I call you taxi."

So my attempt to explore the city on public transport was thwarted. Apparently, RJ later found out that no one uses the public transport in Bahrain except the the lowest social caste ie, foreign labourers, and no self-respecting locals/expats would dare venture on one. Cars is the way forward; or for people like me who can't drie, taxis.

I arrived in Seef Mall eventually, an extensive mall that spans across quite a few buildings, in which I found M&S, Next, La Senza, Mango and Zara!! Woo-hoo, I was in my element!!! I didn't buy anything however. I guess I haven't gotten over the trauma of packing my life into 40 kg. Forking out £758 at the check-in counter at the airport for extra baggage has scarred me for life. That's about 19 quid a kilo, which is ridiculous. Thankfully, we will be able to claim most of it back on expenses.

The mall is very typically what you would find in the UK or in Singapore, but the juxtaposition of the Western influence of DKNY, LV etc aganist the Muslim women covered head-to-toe in black was almost comical. I can't understand why they would want to shop in Prada when all the outside world sees of them is metres of black cloth in every shade-charcoal, midnight and coffee included. I really wonder what they wear beneath the black drabs. Kinky lingerie? Gucci labels?

The Arab men are dressed in white flowy robes with tea-towels-like cloths on their heads, secured by a black ring. There is however a large percentage of men dressed rather fasionably in jeans/khaki shorts and tees. Apart from the obvious incongruity, seeing a couple with a man dressed in cut off jeans and trendy tight t-shirt while his wife dons the traditional black garments from head-to-toe. I couldn't help but feel the injustice the female population faces in this part of the world. How come only the men are allowed to embrace the western culture while the women are expected to be entrenched in tradition?

I certainly am glad that this is not my culture, but all the same, I respect theirs. I suppose Bahrain is very kind towards women compared to its neighbour, Saudi. We were warned to be very careful when we do head into Saudi. I most definitely will have to cover up from head to toe, and I am not allowed to have body contact with men or walk with them, but stay two steps behind. I quite fancy buying a set of their traditional costume for the occasion, cos the last thing I want is to risk being whipped/caned for showing my ankles, or any other prohibited body part.

RJ and I have started our hunt for a property, and were taken to view quite a few apartments around the area by ourt estate agent. We were particularly taken by one right on the sea. It was a plush, brand spanking new apartment, but it was the facilities that impressed us. The gym was bigger than most, rooftop swimming pool, sun lounges and bbq areas, tennis, basketball and squash courts, a cafeteria and convenience store, and even a recreation room much like the one in PGP, execpt catered to expat standards with luxurious leather couches, football table, pool table, and numerous flat screen TVs in the large lounge. For all we get, the price was very reasonable, and throw in another 15 quid or so a month and you get maid service 2-3 times a week. We're viewing a few more apartments in the more uptown area today before we deicide. The sooner the better. I can't wait to unpack.

The weekend in Bahrain falls on Thursday and Friday, which I suppose makes sense as Friday is their Holy Day, the equivalent of the Western world's Sabbath Day.

RJ and I visited the Souk area over the 'weekend', which reminds us very much of Little India, where shopkeepers beckons to us, tryin to sell us wares ranging from suitcases to football jerseys to cotton buds. Funnily enough, we were the only non-Arab tourists there. I suppose the typical tourists would prefer the numerous malls scattered around the city centre which offers shopping in airconditioned comfort, rather than wandering in the dirty backstreets of traditional Bahrain. However, RJ and I revelled in seeing the more traditional part of the country. It is touristy, but there were proper street-side stalls where we could grab some yummy samosas and other local cuisine for next to nothing. The locals found it very peculiar that tourists like us would want to eat in dingy side street stalls, but we thought it was such a find, and they do great teh tariks without the tarik.

Eating out here can be alot cheaper than cooking. A mutton briyani is BD $2 (1 Bahraini Dinar approximately 1.4 pounds or 4.5 Sing dollars), which is dirt cheap compared to the UK. We made a cheapo tuna pasta bake last night, which cost the same, if not more, and tasted nowhere near as nice. Besides, the nearby restaurants all do delivery at no extra charge, so we don't even have to endure the 30sec dander across the street for a curry.

So today is the Monday of their week. I didn't get back to sleep after RJwent to work at 730am, so armed with shades and a good book, I took off to the pool upstairs for a spot of suntanning. Then, I took a walk to Megamart and got some breakfast and the papers, grabbed 2 DVDs at reception on the way up (they have a free DVD library for residents)and turned on MTV. And the apartment has just got a daliy clean from the 2 indian guys, so I don't even need to bother myself with menial household chores.

Much as this is a great lifestyle, I'm so ready to start work again. I'm not made out to be a kept woman, and I do like my financial independence. Maybe it's psychological, but I feel that people respect me more when I have a proper job, when I spend my own money. I can't justify my existence like this, so I'm going to try my damnest to find a job like the one I left.

Arriving in The Kingdom of Bahrain

For the uninitiated, Bahrain is a tiny island off the coast of the Arabian Peninsular, just a wee bit bigger than Singapore with 706 sq km to its name (but this is increasing at an incredible rate with so much land reclaimation taking place wherever you set your sight upon).

Aside from its capital, Manama, situated at the north of the island, the rest of the country is pretty much desert. Bahrain was the first Arab country to host the Grand Prix, and is quite well-to-do from its oil and pearl industries. There is a 27km causeway linking it to its neighbour Saudi Arabia, but it's more like a time tunnel into the past the way women are treated there. However, that is another story altogether.

So anyway, Bahrain and I got started on the wrong foot.

Yes, I've read in the Lonely Planet that Bahrain is a Muslim country and all, which is why I've kept Roger, Ann Summer's greatest creation to date, tucked away safely in my luggage. However, upon collecting our cases, we were stopped by the customs officer demanding to check the contents of our luggage, as he has glimpsed some 'irregularly-shaped' objects through the x-ray. So, while RJ whipped out two pairs of handcuffs from his case, and I discreetly pulled out Roger from amidst the tightly packed mountain of clothes in my suitcase, I silently noted that this has got to be the most embarrassing moment of my blessed life. So, giggling like two teenagers out of sheer embarrassment while the customs officer examined our 'goods' making sure no bombs were concealed within them, we didn't even bother to defend ourselves and our righteous pursuits as the officer muttered on about this being a Muslim country and such things are not right and all blah blah blah....

Welcome to Bahrain!!!!

We were met at the airport by one of RJ's colleagues, who drove us to our very posh serviced apartment in Juffair, the expat area of Manama. Walking out of the air-conditioned airport into the intense heat wasn't very pleasant. But at least it was breezy. I assume we'll soon get acclimatised.

I was bowled over by the apartment. Not used to the expat lifestyle, I was very unglamorously raving over the porter service, leather sofa suite, flat screen TV with home theatre/sound system, sliding doors separating the sleeping quarters which housed a huge bed, dressing area and a glass panel that looks out to the living room. On top of that, a gym, rooftop swimming pool and sun deck!!! We even have all the staff at our beck and call, and who are so polite and address us as sir and m'am whenever they see us. I could get used to this sort of royalty treatment you know! But really, such decadence, although very pleasant, is thoroughly unnecessary. RJ's company has set us up with this apartment for a month until we find our feet and source for our own accommodation.

Our apartment is right bang in the centre of expat land. There's a Subway and an amalgamation of tacky American-style fast food joints literally a stone's throw away from our front door, as well as Megamart, a huge supermarket-type effort. From what we have seen in Subway and on takeway brochures, food here is very much cheaper than the UK, which is always a bonus.

One thing I've noticed in the few short hours in Bahrain is that the local men stare alot. I suppose I might need to get some more conservative clothes to gain credibility. Apparently, according to Mr Lonely Planet, men are nicer to women to don't reveal too much flesh cos it shows a respect for their culture.

In this blistering heat and humidity, coupled with no sleep on the plane, I really have no intention of stepping out of the apartment just yet. I'll wait till the sun sets and I'll explore the city with RJ when he returns from work. In the meantime, I'll amuse myself with the 101 cable TV channels, the gym and the pool. Oh, the choices!!!