Istanbul...its cool, it only happened about three months ago

I would be completely remiss if I didn't devote a proper blog to Istanbul. Istanbul was the one big city that actually managed to capture my heart. It captured it in the same way that my college friend turned Istanbul resident, Jenn had several years ago; through copious amounts of anise flavored alcohol.

...well, there was much more to the city than raki, just as Jenn is much more than my favorite sassy lil' sot.

I reached Istanbul via bus from Izmir. Thankfully, there was none of this passport loosing which I am prone to. Izmir was lovely, and I was able to stay with the Durmaz family there, who were so incredibly kind. The mother and father did not speak a word of English, but we figured each other out. It was also just nice to be in a family unit after several months of travel. I owe Nalan (and Eray for introducing us) more than I could ever repay.

Jenn and her Nietzsche-lovin', Anatolian boyfriend, who I absolutely adore in spite of myself, live in Beyoglu So the first day in Istanbul (8/23) was spent ambling down the Istiklal Caddesi. The giant pedestrian mall that continues down towards Galata Tower, eventually branching into a number of alley ways lined with music stores. I was followed home by some fellow that fancied himself a gentleman I believe.

I spent pretty much all of day two wandering the Grand Bazaar, which is an beautiful covered market of more than 330,0000 sq feet. There are several streets clearly for tourists, but as I continued to wander I noticed shops and restaurants with a few locals perusing goods. A man also sang an Usher song to me while trying to convince me not only to buy some fancy Turkish tile, but that fate had brought us together. Lets just say I didn't buy any tile....and I was followed home...again. Different fella' same idea.


The following day was spent at home, cooking with Jenn, chatting like little teze. It was nice to just catch up...chuckle and cook. I will stop now before I start sounding like the salty moose from Eat, Pray, Fuck myself. Since I didn't really leave the house, I was not followed home.

My fourth day I spent walking through the Mosques of Istanbul. I entered the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. Words can't describe how massive these buildings feel. Nor can they do justice to the amazing artistry inside. History will tell you the Mosques meld a variety of cultural and artistic traditions. All I know, is they were rad.





Since Jenn and Aras were off the next day, we did a tour of the Bosphorus, and dinner/ drinks to follow near a small fish market. In Turkey, they really really know how to do food. Sooo good. This is the view from our plastic lawn chair table, where I had some kind of whole fish served to me on a huge tray. Since we were with Aras, I was not, in fact, followed home that night.


My final day was spent at the Basilica Cistern and Sulthanamet Palace. The Basilica Cistern was my favorite site in Istanbul. The subterranean structure feels very....ethereal. I have no word to use properly here. I am sure there is one, but I don't have it. Think Moria from Lord of the Rings. The place feels massive and hushed, despite having a few hundred tourists in it at any one time.


I left Istanbul that night, but I will be back.

Neglectful

"So, what was it like?"
I get asked that question about travel more than anything else. Tonight Hamad gave me the answer. For everyone that wants to know what it is to hop from culture to culture this is the answer:



Over the past month I have been neglecting my journal. Mostly cause I figured with the fancy traveling around the world being over, I would have little to say. I thought a few follow up entries would suffice and this book would close.

Then I realized I am still traveling. I am, a month after returning to the United States, still a tourist. I am in Denver now, which presents itself with a whole new experience worth exploring for me.

I owe Istanbul about 12 entries...but after that, a peek into learning how to live a completely different life.

Turkey: Worst case scenario.

The travel gods had been nice to me. Too nice...I was within my budget, had accommodation arranged for all but three nights of the trip. Family cooked meals, amazing friends from around the world, great deals on souvenirs, and sick only once.

…I should have known disaster would hit.

Anyone who travels knows that worst case scenario aside from getting kidnapped and sold into the sex trade is the loss of a passport.
…and a wallet
…and your debit card
…on a bus
…that is going god knows where
…and you have no more phone credit
…and you have no idea where you are
…all you know is that you don’t speak more than three words of the language.
AWESOME

What do you do?

My answer was to walk towards the city center, until I found a travel agency (the travel gods do pity us mortals from time to time) A few calls later, Can Akdogan, (great name, huh?) the general manager of Apandana Travel Agency had located my wallet and offered the use of their transport vehicle for a reduced cost to pick it up.

At the bus station, we picked it up….with everything exactly where it was left. Amazing. That means I still have a debt to the travel gods. They will collect, but not today.

No Cairo Blog

...for the past several days I have tried to collect my thoughts on Cairo to form them into some type of prose half worth reading. Unfortunately, my heart was never belonged to the city. I stood in awe of the Pyramids, and was glad to stay on the island in the middle of the Nile (yes there is one)...but it never felt...right.
So I leave you with photos...

Ramadan Kareem

A few days before Ramadan the wind came alive in Egypt. Silvery streamers cris-crossed from building to building and rustled according to the demands of the sea breeze in Alexandria. Much like Christmas in Christian culture, people decorate for Ramadan and Coca-cola makes special packaging for their beverages. My favorite decorations, however, are the the lanterns hung over crowded streets.



Several days after the streamers and lanterns are put up a man appears at 3:30am wandering the streets banging a drum as he yells Allah knows what in Arabic. Anywhere else, most people would be asleep (please note in Egypt, no one sleeps...ever)...and that is exactly why he is out there. Apparently, it is his job to wake everyone up at least an hour before prayers so that Muslims during Ramadan can eat (Sahoor) and pray in the wee hours of the morning. I heard him in Alexandria, then another fellow in Cairo and a scary drummer in Turkey. To me if a person embodies Ramadan, it is him and his drum.

Fasting during this time is supposed to re-direct minds from the superficial activity of daily life to a more...elevated state of self-control, humility, and empathy for others. I see a lot more fights between strangers during this time of year. Almost saw one guy go crazy in the checkout line a Carrefour in the Hong Kong bus killer kinda way. At the same time, it really is beautiful to be in Muslim countries through this month and I am glad I got to celebrate it with the Akl family.

Ramadan is also the time where 20% of all food is consumed in the Middle East. Crazy considering that no one eats or drinks during daylight hours. Night time comes alive and the new tv season starts during this time.

In Turkey, it is quite a bit different, but since life seems to go on as mostly normal, I thought it would be more interesting to relay the culture of Ramadan from an Egyptian perspective. (God forbid the West starts realizing that the Muslim world is not homogeneous).

Regardless, Ramadan Kareem everyone!

Two blocks from the Canal.

The thing about guide books is they never really explain that native Alexandrians probably won’t know where their world cultural heritage sites are located. They also won’t mention that the craziest shit you will see in Egypt appears when your native Alexandrian friends get lost in Carmous, the area around Alexandria’s world cultural heritage sites

…Of course, Simi and Kareem were lost because they relied on my directions…

Regardless, on the trip to Pompey’s pillar I saw Street Chickens....though they weren't nearly as impressive as---
Street Ducks AND Street turkeys


Now, it is “normal” to see people using donkey carts to pull fruit…but I thought this was kinda cool


…..but I would like to also mention (and I am sad I didn’t get a photo of this) that I also saw a guy pulling what was either petrol or possibly kerosene by donkey as well while we roamed around Carmous

Pompey's pillar was pretty rad though as well...Simi tried to convince them I was his cousin so I would get the Egyptian price. It failed miserably...
Anyway, wikipeadia says this about the pillar:

"Pompey's Pillar is a Roman triumphal column in Alexandria, Egypt, and the largest of its type constructed outside of the imperial capitals of Rome and Constantinople.[1] The only known free-standing column in Roman Egypt which was not composed of drums,[1] it is one of the largest ancient monoliths and one of the largest monolithic columns ever erected.

The monolithic column shaft measures 20.46 m in height with a diameter of 2.71 m at its base.[2] The weight of the single piece of red Aswan granite is estimated at 285 t.[2] The column is 26.85 m high including its base and capital.[2] Other authors give slightly deviating dimensions.[A 1]

Erroneously dated to the time of Pompey, the Corinthian column was actually built in 297 AD, commemorating the victory of Roman emperor Diocletian over an Alexandrinian revolt.[2]"

The coolest part of the pillar was that it was built on top of the "temple of the Serapis, once a magnificent structure rivaling the Soma and the Caesareum. Nearby are subterranean galleries where sacred Apis bulls were buried, and three sphinxes. After his defeat by Julius Caesar in the civil war, Pompey fled to Egypt where he was murdered in 48 BC; mediaeval travelers later believed he must be buried here, and that the capital atop the corner served as a container for his head."

Which...was wrong. Anyhow, it was these galleries that were the coolest/creepiest. They were filled with a thick chemical smelling fog. Simi wanted to pass the "keep out" sign, but with no way of see where we would be going, Kareem and I persuaded/dragged him out, cause the rest of the way looked like this:

Can we take photo with you?

They point to you….then to the camera. I think, “sure, I will take a photo for you.” I reach for the camera, but they hand it to someone else. Suddenly, I am in the picture.

Fleur, the Dutch woman I am staying with explains that people in Alexandria always take photos with Western European-Looking people. As I think about it, I haven’t really seen any white people, and as the day progresses at Fort Qaitbey we end up taking photos with at least ten different groups of people. It is not just hormonal teenage boys, in fact it is mostly women and families that want to take photos with us.

…it is so weird. Grinning little girls say, “Hello” and go deer-in-headlight when you respond, “Hi, How are you?” The look on their faces says, “wait…it talked back..”
Kind of adorable for now, though it could get kind of annoying if I lived here…

Aside from taking photos with a million people, Fort Qaitbey was super interesting in its own right. Built around 1500, the Fort was placed on the site of the former Lighthouse of Alexandria (which had been ruined in an earthquake), using some of the same materials.


These are the fishermen that you see around alexandria. I took this from the fort, because it was a great angle to really view it.

From Dubai to Oman

I should have known that Oman would hold a special place in my heart when I bought my bus ticket in a stationary shop in Dierda, Dubai that doubled as a bus station.


More amazing than the “stationary bus station” (I don’t know if that is a pun or a double entendre or what….) was the bus itself. Here I am pictured with the “castle” that delivered me to the magical land of Oman. I am pretty sure Howl’s Moving Castle was not a Japanese anime, but rather, a different bus that went from Dubai to Oman.




The ride was just fine, except that I had an Omani guy that was trying to be overly helpful sitting behind me. Not a problem just a bit annoying. At the border, we all had to get out of the bus and stand around our luggage while dogs inspected it. It must have been at least 50 (120) degrees outside…but other than that, the castle was less of an experience than I expected it to be.

Since it is such a small world, I had a friend from University in Oman, and I was able to spend time with him. I also met Issac, a recent graduate from Ohio in Diplomacy and International Relations. He mention to me that he wanted to live in every continent before going to grad school to pursue international diplomacy. "I think you have to live everywhere to understand where people are coming from, you know?" I hadn't thought of it before...but yes, it makes perfect sense. Probably more sense than most international relations.

I loved Oman...with the exception of the men. Walking anywhere, I felt the penetrating stares. It wasn't the stare I get in other countries cause I am a random white girl--- it was a lusty, depraved stare. I assumed the stares would be as far as it would go...till one day I went to Mutrah.

Everyone else was at work, so I wasn't going to sit at home. I decided to embark on a walking tour of Mutrah. I began at the fish market and walked along the Corniche. I wandered around the souq and found it a bit more intriguing than those that I had seen in Bahrain or Dubai, and climbed up to the fort.







Around mid-day I went to a restaurant. Normally, I don't worry about sitting in the family section (a special area of a restaurant where only women and their families are allowed to go) but I decided it would be a good idea in this case. So I walk into the family section, sit down and begin writing postcards to my family. Some fellow has the gall to follow me in and begin asking if he can practice his English. I politely mention that I am writing to my family, and don't have much time. He finally admits, "I saw you walking and I though you are the most beautiful woman I had seen."
Four. Hours. Walking. In the blistering Oman heat. Bull. Shit.

Before I go any further, I would like to clarify that the riskiest clothing I wore covered everything but my forearms. That still didn't deter Ahmed.

After lunch, I decided to go to the beach, but needed a taxi to do so. We agreed to go to Qorum beach for 500 Baisa. It was on the way home for the folks with whom I stayed. They could drop by and pick me up....or that was the plan until I let Ahmed the cab driver convince me that I should go to Qantab beach instead. "Ahmed welcome"

Ahmed seemed nice enough...but we were going pretty far from the city and winding into the mountains. Not a big deal...I have my cell phone...I kept thinking to myself...

He asks if I need anything to eat or drink. "Ahmed welcome" I politely mention that I just ate lunch and have plenty of water. So when we stop at a gas station. I am a little confused....is this normal?

Ahmed walks out with a snickers bar and guava juice for me. What the hell? When I remind him of the refusal he starts making angry leaking air sounds. "Pshhht" "Stttttsss" "Ahmed welcome" So, I provide an obligatory swig of Gauva juice.
...I am pretty sure that means I am married to Ahmed according to Omani culture...
Each moment was getting more and more uncomfortable...I was still in the mountains, with a semi-pissed cab driver heading god knows where.

Suddenly, one left turn later I see possibly the most beautiful beach I had seen at the time....and then we make a right. And stop at the top of a cliff. He points and says we should go down there. Down there is a valley that curves around a boulder so the beach is not visible from the road. I tell Ahmed I want to go back down to the beach with people. "You decide." He motions for me to follow him out of the car and into the valley. "Ahmed welcome" At the same moment, a black car with tinted windows pulls up next to us.




This is how human trafficking movies start. Screw this. "You decide" he keeps saying. I HAVE DECIDED, asshole. I grab my stuff and start walking to the beach. He pulls up next to me....makes the same angry, leaking air noises, and agrees to take me back down to the beach. "Ahmed Welcome" It was as if he couldn't believe that I would feel uncomfortable..cause he was there to welcome me. He plops down on the sand, and tells me to go swim. He will wait for me.

Like. hell. I will prance around in a bathing suit in front of this guy. So I make up some excuse that I need to leave cause my friends are leaving the office early. It works. Thank you Jesus...and Mohammad too.

The next day, we went back to Qantab...without Ahmed

Um...Dubai...

Back track....(circa July 2nd)

FlyDubai was gracious enough to provide me a ticket to Dubai and back for 50 BD ($125), and the visa officials in Bahrain were insistent that my visa had expired. So I did what any person would do.…I went to the United Arab Emirates and Oman.

An extra 40 BD later, I was on a plane to Dubai with Tima. We arrived early afternoon, exhausted and homeless. The AIESECers were in Abu Daubi for the day, and wouldn’t be home for some time. So, we did what any normal budget traveler would do….go to the mall. We grabbed some food from Carrefoure (my favorite grocer, maybe ever) and plopped down in the food court. That day, I experienced one of the greatest cultural fusions ever conceived in Carrefoure----the veggie puff. Indeed it is a combination of the veggies and spices in a samoosa wrapped in a french puff pastry. Delightful.

After lunch, I feel into the arms of Morpheus in the middle of the food court. One of the things I do best in this entire world is sleep in public places.

So after a nap, we began fulfilling my dream of learning the Dubai public transit system....and Tima came too. All public transportation throughout the Muslim world has a separate car for women and children, which is more for the comfort of the women. All I know is that it smells much nicer than the other cars/areas, and I don't have to worry about being stared at constantly. After Tima and I became masters of our own universe and the Dubai transit system, we dropped by the public beach and saw the fanciest hotel in the world...from the outside. We would spend another several days there, mostly in the company of some delightful AIESECers on the national staff.



Dubai was just a kind of....unexpectedly....not impressive. At one point a guy handed me his business card and told me to call him and ask him out....a bit later in the gold souk I got to haggle with a gem merchant and bought some loose stones---two sapphires and a garnet.



In all, the area near the creek in Dubai is the area I would suggest spending time. There is also the Gold Souk's bus station, which is by far the most helpful place for a traveler to get their bearings and learn how to get around the city. Their customer service is excellent. The area in general feels alive still, surrounded by an indiscriminate international-ish culture. Everywhere feels like a caricature of somewhere else...it is the Chinese place in the Midwest that is operated by Mexicans...all with one exception---the huge abandoned car lot.

Perhaps the most interesting place in all of Dubai was a simple, massive car lot. It is the one picture I should have captured, but didn't. Each vehicle's shell was painted with dust. It is the kind of dust that you only find in the Gulf...and to anyone reading this outside of the Gulf...I can't describe it. It weighs heavy on everything it stains---everyone carefully removes it from buildings, cars, and clothes. But here, by the side of the highway close to the lavish Palm island, it caked these thousands of cars.

It was explained to me that these were the cars left at the airport. I still didn't understand....there were thousands, as far as I could see. During the financial crisis, these were the cars left at the airport by everyone that simply got up and left Dubai, leaving behind everything...it was going to be repossessed anyway.

To me...I guess that was Dubai. But I still got a t-shirt.

I have a million more things to say about Bahrain...

..but for now, a letter to my family about Alexandria, Egypt.

Dear Paw Paw, Mom, and Jordan,
Sometimes you walk off of an airplane, and feel like you are where you belong. It happened to me yesterday afternoon when I stepped on to the Alexandrian airport tarmac. That was until I realized there was no ATM between me and the customs official. There is ALWAYS an ATM between you and the Passport official, but this time I had landed in an airport that had one gate... Moreover, contrary to what you start believing while you live in Bahrain, not everyone speaks English. The customs guy was really nice though and shuffled me around to several different people that each spoke progressively better English. At some point, it became clear that I needed to leave the airport if I was going to get any money from the ATM. So, the very official police guy walked me out of the airport and we found Simi, who gave me enough for a visa....and proceeded to ask me if I was a terrorist.




I am a nerd, and I think the visa stamp is beautiful....much like I think this entire place is beautiful. Last night after I made friends with Customs, Simi took me to get Koshari, which is the traditional Egyptian meal. It is like an Egyptian Chili made up of pasta, rice, lentil, chick peas, onions and garlic and adding to this chili sauce. The onions are fried and slightly caramelized. Delicious.




From there we met up with the AIESECers in Alexandria at a place called Montaza, it was the last king of Egypt's beach palace. All around us were beautiful gardens and it is cool enough to walk around. People where everywhere enjoying the weather and walking around. Kids played soccer while some folks were picnicking. In one ear rang the sound of the Mediterranean lapping against the shore and in the other the buzz of a place alive with people.



One of the women I am staying with is from San Jose, the other from Holland but spent a year in Cuba, Missouri of all places. She said it was the best year of her life....and she wasn't kidding.... We are living in the nicest area of Alexandria...though it doesn't feel that way from the apartment. But I love the place. No AC is needed we keep the windows open, and I don't miss hot water here. I hear students practicing violin, people chattering, dogs barking....and car accidents.

Egypt...well, there are lines on the road, but no one pays attention to those. Simi described it as a "herd of cars" You just move with the herd, and indeed herds don't move in straight lines...so why should cars? I have yet to see a car without a dent or scratch....so I won't be driving here like I did in Bahrain (where I already thought the driving was crazy).

I don't know what I will be doing today, but I am looking forward to my two weeks in Egypt.

Much love. I have attached a photo of Koshari, the Montaza palace, and my visa stamp....cause I think it is all pretty awesome.
Send my love to the rest of the family, and Henrietta.
Elizabeth

Swap Meet me in the Middle East

June 20th through the 24th were a blur of sorts here. With the AIESEC Gala Dinner, Aldar island party, and a bizarre trip to the Isa Town Swap Meet, I believe that this blog may be the only thing that the events of the week had in common.



Gala Dinner
Much of my internship has been going to really fancy places and doing a lot of whatever I want to do. The kick off to the AIESEC conference was about the same. The dinner was held close to the top of Financial Harbor, which is pretty swanky.
I have about a million pictures from the Gala dinner, and I am beginning to think that one of the major functions of AIESEC is to increase your "tagged photos" in facebook by about 100,000 fold. Regardless, it was a good night with good people.

AlDar Lunar Party
From there a group of us shifted gears and went to the Lunar Island Party at AlDar. The dress clothes were stripped off in favor of beach attire. Every full moon, a party is held on AlDar island. The entire island is less than a few hundred meters in any direction, but provides a nice beach to relax among friends. Most of the
other folks there are mostly expats hungry for booze and electronic beats (everything from House to Hardcore).

One of my favorite parts is the water taxi to the island. The port is lined with empty dhows (traditional fishing boats in Bahrain) as if to juxtapose a sense of traditional majesty with the silly little white boats comprised of stumbling drunks. In a lot of ways, it also feels like I am on a boat jetting down the Mississippi. At any point I should be able to look behind me and see a family member attempting to water ski with varying amounts of success. That boat ride is the only time I feel like I am home.


Isa Town Swap Meet
Arab culture is one of consumption. At any point, the major shopping malls are full of people. We were interested in seeing something a bit more homespun. Sorry Fergie but I just don't do "Dolce and Gabbana Fendi and the Donna" The Isa Town swap meet provided just that. I just...pictures are really the only I can say about that.

Tree of Life

The real question is, who hasn't gotten their car stuck at an important cultural heritage location? It was like I was back home again, helping push out Uncle Mick's tractor. This time, however, I may have been in the desert pushing an Egyptian's SUV off of a sand pile.


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On June 18, a large group of us left Manama in the evening to see the tree of life at the south end of the island. The tree of life is a massive mesquite tree in the desert, with no real vegetation any where near by. Thanks to a 400 year old tap root, the tree survives by sucking up water from deep aquifers. It has a very calming vibe to it because of its age, but the location also set me on edge. Looking through my photos of it, for some reason it glows at night. Probably refracting the light from the flash. But cool, regardless.


I may have also climbed the tree of life. I was assured that it wasn't culturally insensitive to climb it, though I think I worried several of my Bahraini brothers. People here aren't exactly the tree climbing types for the most part.


From the tree of life we went to the jail cells in the desert. They were used to basically torture prisoners, but it was so nice to be able to climb around in open space. I loved it. Great night in the desert.

You are always a fan of US Soccer when you are outside the country

...and it was the same in Manama, Bahrain at Club Dublin. There was no home turf for the expat nation here. Even with the number of Americans that live in Bahrain, there are as many English. So Club Dublin and its television screens were divided between the two. After the hope and disappointment of an offside goal from Dempsey, the other half of the room erupted. That, well that, was a bad sign.

I sat next to Glen. I only remember his name because he was a 50 something civilian contractor, and old American men in Arab countries seem to insist that young American girls remember their names.

With around 87 minutes played he says to me, " This is why soccer will never be big in the United States. After 90 minutes two teams draw zero to zero. Americans like high scoring sports. They like to know someone won!"

Forty five seconds into injury time, he jumped higher than I did. Donovan pulled off the unlikely goal. He danced around with as much furor as Devin, the soccer player from Cornell. Because in that moment, he was as great a fan of American soccer as the people in the South African stadium.

I leaned over, begging to have the last word with Glen, "And that, that is why soccer should be big in the US"

Surreal Blender

In many ways, I have started to settle into a routine and most days just feel like another day of work. The only real differences I notice at the office are the guy across from me that wears a thoub everyday and the call to prayer I hear every morning ringing from the minarets.
It sounds similar to this...I love it

Yesterday, however, that routine was thrown in a blender with some tequila and lime. And the margarita that came out could have tanked entire collections of Ernst or Gaudi. In the morning, as unlikely as it would seem, I ended up on a high fashion photo shoot. With models standing around in couture gowns, the brand manager for Al Zain arrives. In his hands is roughly $1 million dollars worth of jewelry...and guess who got to play with it? Me! I can't help that the cavewoman-esque enjoyment of all things sparkley yet sophisticated. Would I ever buy diamonds? No. Would I wear someone elses? Absolutely, because it is ridiculous to have the value of an entire house in your hands/on your body.



In other news, I just found out that my childhood friend, Tom, has outdone me again. Apparently he just got released from a Lao prison yesterday in time to celebrate his birthday. He was arrested for building a boat out of bamboo in order to sail it down the Mekong River.

Of course he is released just in time to celebrate his 24th birthday, with a special birthday present.

Looking for work in a Foreign Country

"As an American with blue eyes you can go anywhere here."

I am still trying to come to terms with that statement. I have never been confronted with a situation in which I was so blatantly privileged relative to my location. (or at least assumed privileged, which regardless, has similar lived effects) I don't want to sound like the victim here, but I am still trying to figure out how to cope.

I don't know how to combat this kind of privilege. I ask Bahrainis about it, and they usually just tell me to take advantage of it. That feels so wrong, but is so easy.
I would love a job here, but I know that I could get unfair preference....woof....

In other news, we watched the world cup game tonight at Turbo's. It was a blast, and it was followed by rock band. It is so surreal to watch three Bahrainis play rockband to Iron Maiden and Tenacious D songs....

...but so far that surreal element is what characterizes my Bahrain experience.

Strange n ights

Last night I held a sobbing Filipino hooker in my arms. For ten minutes we stood in the ladies restroom at a club as she bawled; it was the only thing I could do for her. She didn't speak English...I picked up one word, "son." That is the kind of moment you never forget-- heartbreaking...as though I held the weight of the world's injustice in my arms, and she was a 45 kilo migrant sex worker.


My night became even weirder from that moment on. A member of the national staff with my internship program and I were speaking with some facilities managers at the Best Western (the club is inside the hotel). A third man randomly enters the conversation, but is in no way affiliated with the others. We are cordial, but nothing more.

About a half hour later, our group leaves the club. They drop me at my door, and I head up to my flat. A few moments later, I hear loud knocking and the door bell ring several times. There is the random third man. I open the door enough to tell him to fuck off, and asking how the hell he found my flat...and he proceeds to push his way in saying, "I like you...I like you.." (how can you like me, when we exchanged all of five or six words?)

He had followed me home, apparently.
I didn't let him get very far before I punched him and threw him out of the building as he tried to kiss me. I let security know and I promptly walked next door and crashed in a different flat.

Woof.

Thoughts on governance in the GCC

"Past attempts at broader based regulation in terms of national taxation systems [in the Gulf Cooperation Council], enforcement of intellectual property rights, information-gathering through censuses and business surveys, residency registration, or even just the enforcement of traffic rules, have proven difficult and have met considerable resistance."

I really enjoy that this is an excerpt from an article on governance systems and renewable energy throughout the Gulf Cooperation Council. I mean...really, traffic issues are so bad here that they have made their way into a report on the state of renewable resources and governance in the GCC, which has nothing to do with traffic rules....

Hilarious.

Bahrain: A Western, Feminist perspective...

"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat, or a prostitute. "
- Rebecca West





For most of my trip, I have had the privilege of seeing Bahrain from the eyes of some amazing men. I cannot explain the debt of gratitude I owe to Diesel, Essa, Farrah, Simi, Hassan, Turbo and many many others. We have watched the sun rise over the Gulf, and spoken at length about a variety of things. However, as I get to know the females in Bahrain, I am beginning to get a clearer picture of the way things are, the way things are perceived, and the way some wish things would be.

As a strong and wordy disclaimer, I have been immersed in the culture for two weeks and there is sooo much more for me to understand. My upbringing is strongly Western and I consider myself a feminist. I will be a feminist until the day that what women look like is less important that what they do. I will work until the word "unfeminine" is gone, and women are no longer considered typically weak if they show emotion. For that, and a whole lot of other reasons that I won't get into here, I am a feminist.

With that out of the way, we can focus the attention back to Bahrain. Two days ago, for the first time in my life I felt uncomfortable sitting down in a restaurant that full of only males. It was only uncomfortable because I knew as a woman, I was not supposed to be there...not because of a few glaces from others(granted the discomfort passed immediately because I can always wrap myself in my Western-ness and say, "screw it") My entire life, I have been the only girl at a number of places like the local gaming shop, or hanging out with friends. It has never been an issue with me.

Here it is different, there is definitely the correct place for women to be or not be (especially if you are Bahraini. I seem to get a pass because I am from the US). To be clear, part of that is also for the comfort of women. As a group, we frequent this one restaurant and we use the side entrance, the family entrance. There are curtains on the booths and private areas for women who may want to remove niqab (the face covering that some women choose to wear). Every restaurant has a family section. The men tend to assume it is really for the women to feel more comfortable; to prevent stares. It doesn't always feel like that to me.

At the same time, Bahrain is definitely the most open of the countries in the Gulf in many ways, including women's empowerment. But here, there is kind of an artificial sense of how open the country is; a superficial sense of "modernization" here. Women work, drive, and can more or less decide on veiling....with the caveat that it is alright according to their family and community. "My family's heart would break if I didn't veil"

Lately, I have been hanging out with more women, asking questions. "Why do all these women wear so much make-up who are also in full abaya and hijab?



"We take what freedom we can get, I guess"

English, Arabese, Engrabic, Arabic

"I am overly dependent on the English language," Allowi explained with feigned distress. Bahrain must be the worst place in the Arab world to try and learn Arabic. All of our Bahraini friends speak perfect English--to the point that they text in English because it is easier and faster.

At the same time, it has prevented a lot of the culture shock that I was expecting to feel, and more importantly, lead me to the single greatest usage of an English word in the Gulf.

Chicken nugget. Here if someone is a 'chicken nugget' it means they are spoiled. It was explained to me that a spoiled kid sits down to a meal, regardless of what it is and screams out, "I want chicken nuggets"!

Awesome, and true.

Nerd Herding

In the United States, I always fall in with groups of nerds that love music, literature, art, gaming or some combination thereof.

For the past two evenings I have had discussions about character building in Dungeons and Dragons vs. world of darkness, dispelled the myth that tons of women game in the United States, and geeked out over some metal.

::blinks::
I...I am in Bahrain.

Which leads me to a list of the most unexpected things I have found in Bahrain so far:
-Gamers: I know they exist all over the world in theory, not in practice
-Metal: Did you know that Dream Theater and Mastadon were huge all over the world, and not just in Scandinavia?
-Stray Cats: Bahrain is too cool for stray dogs, they have hundreds of stray kitties
-Chili's: Yes, Chili's has been exported to Bahrain, and for a long time the Crown Prince was there every couple of days. I am fairly sure the franchise does better in Bahrain than in Missouri.

There is so much I want to convey about Bahrain; the smells, thoughts, feelings, people, and land. There is an album of mental images that I want to distill into a worthy representation of this dynamic place. I sit down to write and hit a wall each time I try to write deeply and thoughtfully. I write but the thoughts and associations I've garnered are too complex and nuanced for my words. So I delete it...backspace frenzy.

It is with this disclaimer that I write. I write because I have to do so. When the travel is over all I have is the residual lines and photos of this blog. I have come to terms with the fact that some of it will just be pretty pictures and superficial musings. I am ok with that now, but I also hope to provide some type of thoughtful observation and reflection.



With that out of the way, I must speak about the souq or market in Manama. Any place I travel, I find that markets, marcados, malls, groceries---they all speak volumes about a particular culture. The Manama souk feels like the juncture between old and new.


The smell of local spices seemed to dare the white plastic dolls and American wrestling t-shirts to exude the same level of cultural permanence as coriander has for the past thousand years. For some reason, it was the white baby doll that stuck with me. It was an uncomfortable reminder of cultural imperialism that was interestingly juxtaposed by this doll. The incoming president of the organization, Diesel, explained that she is based on a popular cartoon. She dresses conservatively and speaks in traditional Arabic. Very cool in a lot of ways, but also a reminder of the cultural swing towards conservatism in Islamic culture.



People in the US may be very surprised to find that fewer than 30 years ago, women were dressing like most westerners; skirts, form fitting blouses, and many with no head covering. Only recently do you see so many women veiled as this relic of antiquity is revived. At the same time, there is something beautiful about the modesty of the culture (though indicative of a trend towards conservatism that I disagree with)
Oh so much more to say, and even more to listen to....

The old town

The old part of Manama is beautiful. Pictures do more than my words can.