Hear ye, hear ye

My, my, it certainly seems as though I have invoked the wrath of many on my last entry! Honestly people, there is no need to get wound up around a bit of ranting and raving on one's blog. People go through good and bad patches - have you heard of post-holiday blues? I am certainly no colonial master. Bahrain, just like the UK, has a few things that don't agree with me, that's all! Trust me, I have complained loads about UK while I was living there - the weather, the NEDs, the exhorbitant taxes we have to pay, their decision to go to war on Iraq, the price of an egg mayonaise sandwich in M&S.....the list goes on.

I appreciate that many of you are being defensive of your motherland, which is understandable. I used to do the same to buggers who complain about my country until I came to the conclusion that there can be no one united view on things - that is just utopic. People are allowed to have differing views and being defensive would not help matters and would simply serve to highlight one's xenophobia. So guys, cut me a little slack. If you cared to read previous entries I do write about positive encounters as well.

There is no need to be hostile. If my blog really does infuriate you so much, then you most certainly have the choice of not reading it. There are millions of blogs around, so please do both of us a favour and take me off your favourites list. And whoever put my link onto the Bahrain blogger website can kindly take it off - I never asked to be put on it.

Now that I've got that off my chest, I shall resume blogging on my experiences in the Middle East (and yes, you can expect both positive and negative things as seen by a foreigner, so there is no need to jump at my throat each time I complain about something I don't particularly agree with.)

Last night, RJ brought me to this tiny local restaurant not too far from town, and I have to say, the dining experience was such a lovely one, and might I say in terms of novelty factor, it even rivalled the Ritz. No, it's not some fancy five-star restaurant with polished marble floors and silver dining ware. From the outside, it looked like the typical kind of prata restaurant we would frequent at the Souq, but the distinctive feature of this particular restaurant was this carpeted room adorned with nothing more than rugs and a few Turkish style cushions.

Dinner was a huge metal plate of biryani rice and mutton that was cooked so slowly the meat simply dropped off the bones. The shy waiter, perhaps unused to women in the restaurant, was more than uncomfortable when I smiled at him. He placed a plastic sheet on the floor in front of us that was our placemat, which I thought was an ingenious idea - cheap and non-fussy. He simply grabbed the 4 corners of the plastic sheet with all it's contents and voila, the 'table' is cleared.

To top off the whole arabic dining experience, the mosque nearby started blaring the prayers during prayer time, and there we were sitting crossed legged stuffing our faces with the yummy food in such quaint surroundings - it was rather surreal. We have to take visiting friends to such places.

Leaving the restaurant, I did get a few disapproving stares from a few local men. I don't think they are used to women sharing the male-dominated dining space!

Back to Earth with a Bump

Or rather, it’s back to the Middle East with a sinking feeling at the pit of my (taut) belly.

I’d really hate to be one of those disgruntled expats living in the lap of luxury and moaning about how life sucks…but, a) I’m too young to be lumped into the category of typical expats (I think you have to be at least over 35 and slightly pudgy) and b) I don’t think I earn quite as much as the archetypal expat with their allowances ranging from furniture to pets.

So anyway, the month out of the Middle East has been heavenly. RJ and I have finally tied the knot amidst a picture-perfect beach wedding in Phuket under the watchful eye of 45 guests from all over the world. It was everything I have ever dreamt I wanted in a wedding and more. The day was perfect – the sunset, the stars, the best men speech, and all the merry-making and boogieing on the dance floor. It was magical, having our dearest and closest family and friends from different continents gathered on a postcard-perfect private island to celebrate the special day with us.

After spending 3 weeks in a villa with maids waiting on us hand and foot (no, we didn’t demand the treatment. It all came with the package. On the contrary, we felt weird having someone cook us breakfast in our villa every morning and a driver at our beck and call everyday), and another week of frantic feasting with friends and family in Singapore, it’s back to the humdrum of work life.

At the airport checking in for the Bahrain-bound flight, simply seeing women in the queue in hijubs and hearing the familiar Arabic language, the first stirrings of the sinking feeling started. After 5 months in Bahrain, I still cannot call this place home. I remember the warm fuzzy feeling of coming back to someplace familiar whenever I hear Singlish, or the soft Scottish lilt, or even the singsong Belfast accent – but hearing the harsh vowels of the Arabic language only fills me with a sense of dread, and remind me of arrogant and rude people, manic drivers and the lack of gender equality.

Yes, I know it is terrible to be feeling like this, and yes, I am striving to change this dogmatic and somewhat unfair view I hold of this region. This totally defeats the purpose of travelling with an open mind and experiencing the region for what it is.

I certainly have no illusions that I might still feel the same way at the end of our stay here, but for now, I have to keep reminding myself to keep an open mind, earn and save as much as I can here before scooting off to a much more pleasant, not to mention cheap region bursting with opportunities, Asia.