Middle Eastern Foreign Clash

Jane Austen once said, "If adventures do not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad."

As an avid Jane Austen fan, I have always read that quote with a sense of agreeable fondness. I used to take pride in the fact that perhaps I understood who Jane Austen was. After all, hadn't I feverishly read all of her novels multiple times over? Coupled with my love of Jane Austen and the meaning behind the words, acutely written three hundred years ago, I naively thought I understood what that quote meant. That was, up until I moved to Bahrain.  

Everyone has their worst case scenario when living overseas. You see, there are definitely certain fears that one learns to live with. For me, it was the fear of being deported or having a run in with the authorities. Anyone who knows me well, understands that I possess a very vivid imagination. It was pretty easy to let my imagination run away with these "worse case scenarios." Even though I was having the adventure of a lifetime, I still knew I was a foreigner walking amidst a foreign land.

So, here we are at the end of my time in Bahrain. I had spent almost two years living in the Middle East.  I had established myself in a new location and I felt hesitant about leaving. I was lucky enough to met the most intriguing, loving friends while living there.

I was down to the wire. Only a week left. It was time for packing up and saying my goodbyes.  My roommate could tell you that I pretty much failed during that week.  My friends would come over "offering" to help me pack, and it would wind up being a long talking session with nothing accomplished. My suitcases remained unpacked until the very last second.

One last night. One last night out with my girlfriend.  She used to joke that she brought out my wild side. Well, she was probably right. So, it was supposed to be a goodbye sort of night. You know, where we could go let our hair down, drink a glass of obligatory wine, and say our goodbyes. It was scheduled to be a perfectly normal night. But, isn't that the funny thing about "normal?" It's those normal nights that always creep up on you.

After having a nice dinner, we decided to go dancing, one last time! After all, weren't we the queens of the dance floor? So, yes! We danced. We lived. It was just like old times. That is, up until we got into our car to go home!

My friend Isabella was driving. She's a sassy Dominican who knows how to dance and has a fierce presence about her. Yep, I love her. With my lovely lady friend in the driver's seat, we were simply driving away from our crime scene.

After we made the first turn out of the parking lot, we were intervened by an unmarked vehicle. It was a white car with two men in it. They passed us and started waving and making faces at us. One thing is for certain, as a foreign woman, you learn to ignore these encounters because they are most often just some obnoxious male, trying to get your attention. You can never be overly cautious. So, you learn to be fierce.

They continued to follow us, even when we took the back roads home. We thought that we would take the detour home to maybe ditch them along the way. Sure enough, after every stop light and every turn, it was clear that they were there stalking us. After a mile of this torture that we started to get seriously concerned.

They started getting aggressive. Passing us, yelling out their window. Making gestures and flashing their lights. We couldn't shake them and it was nerving. What were we to do? We had learned not to stop for anyone! It was far too dangerous!

Finally, at a stop light, they swerved in front of us, blocking our ability to turn. Out the man clamored from his vehicle. I cringed as he aggressively ran towards our car!

"This is it," I thought.

"My life is over!" (insert vivid imagination here)

He motioned for us to roll down our window. At this point, there was a traffic jam behind us and people were honking their horns!

Through the language barrier, we concluded that he was probably traffic police in an unmarked vehicle. He was off duty though. Well, I guess we had a light that was broken and he claimed that he was trying to inform us of the broken light. Really? Stalking us? Almost running us off the road to tell us this? Nearly killing us! It was clear that his pride had been wounded because we wouldn't stop! His behavior was unconstitutional!

He wanted us to get out of our vehicle. We refused! After all, we were two foreign women not about to jeopardize our lives. He could have been anyone! He could have conned someone into getting a fake ID! My friend Isabella told him this, which escalated the situation as he seemed to drown in rage! Oh man, he was beside himself!

We closed our windows, after telling him we were calling the police ourselves. After we notifed the authorities, we voluntarily drove to the police station. We wanted this situation solved once and for all! He followed us closely the entire way there.

Once there, we waited for what seemed like forever! I ate an apple that I had stashed in my purse. Opps! I like food too much! We watched as the officer on duty issued the man into his office. There were glass doors so we could see the entire, dramatic scene unfold. Arms flailing, fingers pointing, yea the works! We were eventually issued in. By this time, it was 2 in the morning.

"Don't say too much," my friend Isabella said as we went into the office. "Okay," I thought because I was already scared out of my mind. "I'm going to wind up in prison," I thought. 

The man in the unmarked vehicle was allowed to stay in the office as we were questioned. We basically explained our situation to the officer on duty. We told him we absolutely didn't  know that he was police. His vehicle was unmarked. He didn't have any sirens or lights!  My friend Isabella was sure to point out all of his violations! She definitely intimidated the officer on duty. I don't think he was used to a woman speaking so passionately. He was very sweet and understanding. He told us that he wouldn't want his sister to stop for an unmarked vehicle either. He was on our side.

I could only pick up bits and pieces but my friend translated to me in quiet whispers. The man who had followed us earlier was furious! He wanted us to apologize. He ranted "these women have disrespected authority, etc." He said that we owed him an apology. He wouldn't leave until we said that we were sorry! Well, we weren't about to do that!

The story and the questions seemed to last forever. Both parties had to be appeased. Finally, in the very morning hours of daylight, we were released. No consequences. Thankfully! I felt like I had dodged a bullet! Only a few more days and I would be headed home!

Foreign Propositions

There are certain things about living in the Middle East that a Western woman will never get used to, one of them is the fact that men think they can "buy you." Over the past six months, I have mentally recorded each of these encounters and have even given names to each of my perpetrators. I used to be afraid of these confrontations. Now, each time I am propositioned, it makes me stronger, more defiant, and aware of my surroundings. I am no longer shocked by these men's suggestions. However, I have decided it's time to expose the truth. Here is the catalog of my encounters. I have broken them down into two categories, “One Time Offenders” and “Common Offenders.”

One Time Offenders

Danny Zuko (from Grease):

While walking back to my car at a convenient store, this man proceeded to pull along side of my car. He asked if I "needed a ride." He continued to haggle me by suggesting, "I can take you anywhere you need to go." Even after I got into my vechicle he waited along side of my car. I shoed him out of the way and drove off. Sure buddy! I really need a ride! LAME!


Donald Trump:

This guy was a real charmer. After I left McDonalds, he had the audacity to ask me, "HOW MUCH?" I must confess, I had already had a long week at work and was not in the mood. This one got a vicious answer and I spurted back repeatedly in a booming voice, "I AM NOT A PROSTITUTE!!!" At least this one apologized. Like he could afford me anyway! Ha!


Casanova: 

This scrawny man tried to convince me that I was a princess. "Pick Me" "Pick Me" "Pick ME" he kept saying.
 Dude! Calm yourself!

Mr. Chivalry:

This charmer paid for my meal at KFC. I should have known not to accept favors. He gave me his business card and said, "please call me, I am free tonight."


Car Stalker #1:

This past summer my bloody car broke down so I had to walk to and from work. One day, this guy pulled along side of me in his car and asked, "How much?" I didn't respond and kept walking forward. Then he tried a different approach, "Do you need a ride?" I told him to bug off!
 I had to walk with him pestering me like that for an entire block!

Car Stalker #2:

This time, I was walking to the grocery store to get some milk. FYI, If I am going to walk somewhere by myself, I always take the busiest streets. However, on this day, even the crowded streets didn't keep me from harm. Same type of situation, this guy sees me while driving down the street. He slows his car down and propositioned me. This guy wouldn't give it up so I yelled at him, "LEAVE ME ALONE." Finally, he drove off. The creep was still looking at me from his rear view mirror.


Common Offenders

(too many to count)

Taxi Drivers:

These guys aren't really taxi drivers. They pull up and ask if I "need a ride." As if?

Are you Russian?:

I have gotten this line a few times. Guys ask me if I'm a Russian hooker. I guess I do have blonde hair and my grandmother was Ukrainian. I can see how they would get confused.

Giggling School Boys:

Here’s a shout out to all of the Pakistani and Indian Men. They see me and start whispering and pointing in my direction. Often I hear giggles as they stare my way. They remind me of little boys. Luckily, these types of men never approach me!

Whistle in the Wind:

These are the type of men who will slow down, roll down their car windows, and whistle at me while I am walking down the street. It even happens at stoplights when I am in the safety of my car. Just the other day, I caught a group of policemen, riding in their work vehicle, smiling, winking, and waving at me. Seriously! What's with these people? It's irritating! 

The Truth of the Matter

My friend Jody, AKA Joseph, thinks that someone will one day make a book out of my crazy travel adventures! Who knows? Maybe he's correct! Between my personal life and my travels, I certainly have enough drama to make a best seller!

Now to my friends and family reading this from back home. Please don't worry about me. I don't walk around in mini skirts and I don't show any cleavage (not that I have it anyway). But, you get the picture, I dress modestly. I have learned to fend for myself over here. With everything going on back in "America," I often wonder if I am in a safer location than you guys??! 

Lunch Break in Iran?

Who doesn't enjoy eating lunch, right? If you are at all like Miss Amy, a lover of food, you look forward to kicking back, slipping your shoes off, and eating something delicious during your lunch break at work. Miss Amy is the type of person who starts thinking about lunch within an hour of her arrival to work. Her co-workers often chide her for being able to eat like a man. But Miss Amy is from Dutch ancestry and we all know how they like good food, especially cheese and chocolate.

So one Thursday in November, Miss Amy set about her normal schedule. Having stayed up a little too late the previous night, she arrived to work without her lunch bag, which had fortuitously been left on the kitchen counter at home.

Like clockwork, the lunch hour arrived and she was food-less and ravenous. As a teacher of English in Bahrain, Miss Amy found herself rotating back and forth between two tutoring centers. On this particular Thursday, the monumental day that she forgot her lunch, she happened to be at the remote center, located near the Saudi Arabian border. 

Surely, she concluded, if she ventured into the nearby walled village, she would be able to find a suitable place to appease her appetite. This is how she found herself in her car, headed away from the safety of the tutoring center, alone. 

As she drove down the narrow, half hazardous, unpaved streets, she noted the black flags flying from each doorway, ominously reminding her that it was the week of Ashura, which marks the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali (the grandson of the Prophet Mohammad). In the Islamic religion, there are two sects, Shias and Sunnis. After speaking with her students, Miss Amy had discovered that Ashura is solely celebrated by the Shi’a population. In some countries, like Bahrain, this holiday is often observed by self mutilation, as a way to avenge the death of Husayn, the last true blood line to the Prophet Mohammad. The black flags posted on every corner, signaled to Amy that she was entering a Shi’a neighborhood and it was clear that the people of this village were in mourning. 

Spurred on by her growling stomach, she carried on down the narrow street in search of food. She located a sorry looking cafe with a sign that read “Hot Burger” and concluded that this was no time to think about gourmet food; it was simply “business.” This was going to be, “as good as it would get.” 

She parked the car, locked the door, and strolled up to the cafe take-out window. The man at the counter, stared at Miss Amy with wide, buggy eyes. She concluded that little eye contact would be best and she thanked the heavens that she had worn a long skirt that day.  After several attempts of asking for a menu, she was given a crinkled looking sheet of paper with words written in Arabic and English. She placed her order, or so she thought, and was shooed inside to wait. 

Shocked to see that she had been issued into a small waiting area with a frontal view of the kitchen, she waited. And she waited. And she waited. One, two, three men came in after her. All of them seemed to know what they were doing. Order, wait, get your food. Feeling her stomach growling, she sighed a simple sigh of frustration. Why was no one looking at her? Why wasn’t the cook saying something like, “your order will be next.” 

Finally, the light bulb went on, “I am a woman.” And this simple conclusion sent her racing out of the cafe, back to the safety of her car. The workers, probably not quite sure what to do, simply had ignored her because she was a woman and they could not serve her food! 

She abandoned all hopes of getting lunch and switched gears to “getting out of dodge.” Miss Amy, shaken by her cafe experience, made a wrong turn, and then another wrong turn. Each turn somehow led her deeper and deeper into the village. She passed an Iranian mosque. She passed frisky looking teenage boys moseying down the side walk. She passed several women, with pots of food in their hands. 

At this point, she lost all sense of direction and found herself stuck in the middle of a traffic jam. Cars were coming at her at all sides and people were crowded on the street corners. Panic rose in her throat and she cursed the fact that she was a white, female, lost in a Shi’a village. 

Not entirely immune to dangerous situations, she reminded herself of the time her well water was poisoned, while living in Haiti. Miss Amy and her roommate at the time, were cooped up in their house for two days, with armed guards outside. They waited until the police could catch the culprit, a disgruntled grounds keeper who had been fired six months prior. Surely, she thought to herself, if she had survived that experience, she could get through this as well. 

Just when all hope seemed lost, a man dressed in a white throbe, took control of the traffic dilemma. He parted the sea of cars, like Moses did when he parted the Red Sea and pointed Miss Amy in the right direction. All eyes were on her at this moment and she tried to give a friendly wave as she exited the scene.  After a few more turns and plenty of horn honking (not on Miss Amy’s part), she found herself on a familiar road, leading her back to work. No food. A bit shaken up. Starving! But, she had survived! Lesson learned: ALWAYS PACK YOUR LUNCH OR YOU COULD WIND UP IN IRAN! 

Road Trip Gone South

Sophie and I set out for a little Arabian adventure.

This was just an ordinary road trip to get out of the city. Destination? Anywhere the wind would take us. We ate ice cream cones, kissed a few camels, and dipped our toes in the ocean, all the while keeping an eye out for that "perfect photo." With Tim McGraw blasting on the speakers and not a care in the world, how could life get any better? Little did we know that our "road trip" would eventually lead to disaster...

After visiting a camel farm, we decided to embark on the hour long journey south to see the famous Tree of Life, which is basically a huge tree growing in the middle of the baron desert. After the tour, which included driving around the tree and performing a photo shoot, we got OUR CAR STUCK in the sand. There was nothing but sand and oil rigs as far as the eye could see. Our efforts to push, dig, and finagle the car out of the sand was futile and only burrowed the wheels deeper and deeper into the sand. 

We gingerly guzzled the last drops of water from our water bottles and started trekking towards civilization, which appeared to be an industrial building about a mile away. With the Arab sun rays beating down upon our heads, the ominous thought that we might just die out there in the desert, crossed our minds. Just when all hope seemed lost, two locals in the form of tiny specks, appeared on the horizon with SHOVELS in hand! Help was on it's way! 

The local men, offered to help "dig us out." They shooed us to go sit in the car. Even though we felt guilty for sitting in the protection of the shaded vehicle, while the men were working, we gratefully accepted their offer. At this point, we were on the verge of heat exhaustion and feeling quite delusional. 

After about 15 minutes of digging, a white fan appeared on the dusty road. Knowing that we still needed more help, I got out of the car and started jumping up and down while yelling, "Over here, over here!" The men in the van, heard our cries for help, and they drove our way. Two husky American military men, out for a scenic drive like us, hopped out of their cars and joined the rescue crew!!! The local men abandoned their shovels and we all worked to pull our car out of the sand, with the aid of a sturdy rope and the strength of the van.

We were finally free! We waved goodbye to the hansdom military men as they drove off into the sunset. As we got back into our car, one of the local men, pointed towards his house, which resembled a tiny shack, and invited us for tea. Desperate to get back to the comfort of our own homes, we declined and went on our way. This may have been a "Road Trip Gone South," but we had an adventure!

This is our photo story...