While eating what would be our last lunch together at a restaurant in Bahrain for a bit, I sleepily asked my mom, dad, and sister how they would describe the country in one word. Mom took a spoonful of her spinach soup, my sister, a sip of her spiced tea, and dad shifted his water glass on the table (I was watching you (: ). "Island," said the tea drinker, "Laura," the Spinach eater (oh shucks, mom), and "pearl," the glass shifter. There you have it: words from wise globe-trotters that I love.
A view of the Gulf through the doors at the visitors' center of the Bahrain Fort.
Two Cities: Ruins of the Dilmun and skyscrapers of Manama, Bahrain's capital city.
The desert island didn't feel so deserty a lot of the time during their visit. There were some chilly, refreshing rains and clouds to keep us cozily together.
My attempt at snowflakes and cranes. Thank you for helping me learn how to make the cranes again, Adrianne! There is a crane that is so small on the table you cannot see it. It belongs in a museum.
I made us stockings, some peace on earth (a paper kind), and a swirl of lights.
A visit to the Al-Fateh Mosque. Wonderful tour guide and talks about how we are all people who usually teach young people to love one another, speak and listen to one another, and to realize we are a small part of a whole.
Camel smooooooch. Mom was close to starting a "Free the Camels" campaign or undoing their short chains. This stud was her first member.
Two teas with milk, one black coffee, and lemonmint juice (mom was thirsty) at Saffron in Muharraq.
Many people here have told me that as a vegetarian, I will miss out on Bahrain's best foods. Not at this Bahraini breakfast, oh boy. I can't tell you what the Arabic names for these breads and spreads are, but I can tell you that they were all vegetarian and they were all DELICIOUS! One was egg and tomato, one was white beans and spices, and the middle was basically baked beans with spices. The dish with the noodley stuff is a dish of noodles with sugar on them and two square fried eggs. The woman next to us kindly told us all of the names of the dishes and introduced us to her three beautiful daughters. She then continued to show us to an exhibit of a special Bahraini weaving nearby. #hospitality #welcoming #human kindness
Cheers! The single waiter in the whole restaurant brought these little cups after we ate. The woman next to us informed us they were juice from the heart of palm with some saffron mixed in. Okay. Smelled it. Gagged. Johanna swigged it back like a champ. "It smells like soap," my brain kept saying as I held it to my lips. Mom knocked it back. No problem. My hands started to sweat. Dad took a look at his and down his went. I couldn't. "Mom and Dad did it, Laura. Just gulp it down," says Jojo. Mmmmm...don't know. It's a shot of soap, it's a shot of soap, I keep thinking. The woman at the next table and her three girls are watching. Pressure. Okay. Here it goes. Tip it back. It goes down and almost comes back up. When I open my squinched eyes, Johanna's are squinched, too because she's laughing at me so much, and the three little girls and their mother are hiding a smile. "It wasn't that bad," Johanna says. My gag reflex would say otherwise. But, still. Cheers, and thank you for such a marvelous breakfast, Saffron Coffee Shop!
That's mom in the bottom middle of the photo, and Johanna next to her. Just kidding. These are artisans who weave for three hours each day in this traditional art form of intricate weaving of tiny gold thread border designs on their traditional clothing. Our neighbor at the coffeeshop told us that the silkier abaya (the loose dress-like body coverings they are wearing) are the older form of abayas. She also told us that the hijab (the head-covering) was not traditionally black in Bahrain. The black color came from Turkey. They used to be more white than black, and the trend is coming back. It makes sense with that sun beating down during the summer.
A photographic gem from the trip. At a "vertical garden," which is a garden growing on a wall in Muharraq, mom was trigger shy with the camera, and so I made this face while thinking, "hallas" (finished). Johanna was more patient. Thanks for the photographs, mom. I just don't think I'll ever outgrow my stubborn attitude when you see a good pose to strike and it must be perfect. However, you DO get good ones, don't you. And, that iPhone camera was confusing, I know.
The king says "hi" in Muharraq.
A cat on vacation at Jazayir beach. It knew where life was at. It didn't swim, but it enjoyed the sun. Just like us. We eventually went in, but Bahrain's wind made it a perfect day for just chillaxing on a sheet on the sand. And finding treasures along the shore, in dad's case.
The tree of life. No one knows where it gets its water from. Yes, it is fairly near to the ocean, but that is salt water. Look at those branches and that sky. Beyond this point, there is a sign that says "no entry." Who knows what all is that way, but this tree is in lots of twist and turn sandy unmarked roads in the middle of oil land.
We climbed the tree of life to get a view from there.
Dad kind of helped me down. (: It was a nice thought, but a sandy, not quite stuck landing. I enjoyed it.
A'Ali - a city with many pottery making factories and an adventure to be had. The smoke is from a kiln with art a-cooking.
Do you see the square hole in the ground? The bowl? The blue piece of cloth by the bowl? This was a seat for the potter to work at his wheel. He was at lunch (we would soon discover). The factories just remained open to the world, for anyone to walk through. Hello, Bahrain.
A beautiful green and blue tiled mosque piqued our interest and we walked into its sunny courtyard. Pretty soon, a man with white whiskers and a belly came and invited us to follow. We were reluctant, but dad was interested. We followed. "He will be your husband!" Another man with the old man said with a huge smile and laugh. It was the first time I felt like something of this nature was said in complete jest, and it was so fun. The old man patted his belly and pointed toward a hall. We followed. We took off our shoes and put them with all the other shoes at the entrance of the hall. The two older men leading us were smiling and laughing and welcoming us the whole time. When we entered, there were probably a hundred men all sitting on the floor in smaller circles, eating and talking. The smell was delicious, and the mixed feelings of confusion and welcome were overwhelming. "Are you sure?" We kept asking? They insisted. We sat down at a table they pulled up for us near couches, with new chairs. They laid a plastic table cloth over the table. And then - the food came. So much food. Plates full of rice, vegetables, and lamb. Salads with lettuce, carrots, and lemon. Dates. Little oranges.
I looked at the plate, and was unsure what to do. I had not eaten any form of mutton or beef for over ten years. Was this a situation where I must break that streak? I began to dig into my rice, sopping with lamb juice, and smiled and "mmmmm"ed over and over. So good! We all kept telling them. As we were eating, boys, teenagers, and men continually came over to the table to take pictures with us. I had never experienced this before, and it was hard to know whether these hospitable people were happy we were there, were just completely enthralled that we were there, or were laughing at us because we were there. I chose to just enjoy the hospitality, camaraderie, and conversation. "This is SO good," I told the man in white. "It looks so good! I just haven't eaten lamb in 10 years. I'm a vegetarian." I said. "Oh! It's okay. Whatever the doctor tells you, it's okay to just have it one day." I smiled and looked down at my plate. Dad ate a lot of lamb at that lunch. I couldn't do it. "Could we have a parcel?" I asked. "You want more? Why didn't you say so before? They have eaten everything." Because of some sort of misunderstanding, they felt badly that I couldn't have more lamb, and I was happy when they brought the containers to put the kindly prepared lamb into them. I knew that not accepting food in this culture is very disrespectful, and wasting food is looked down upon (rightfully so). So, I was glad for the option of the parcel. My belly and heart were also very thankful.
Pictures continued and continued. These are the sinks where we washed after lunch with our new friends.
After we washed our hands, arms, faces, and mouths (Johanna - tee hee), our new friend insisted on taking us in his car back to his car. We were thankful for the invitation, but were a bit overwhelmed with all of the hospitality and attention, but we thankfully accepted. He fetched a Christmas card that was in his car and filled it out to our family from himself. He has a son who studies in Boston, and so he said we would meet up when he graduated. He also said that any time I wanted to see A'Ali again, he would be the tour guide. Now, I've got connections. What a day. The hospitality that everyone has talked about in Bahrain had formerly only appeared in the form of western restaurants and the quick clearing of any table at any food shop because this is really all I had explored. Here, in A'Ali, I experienced, full on, the hospitality that is deeper than any label of any sect of people, than any generalization about a certain place on a map, or of different eating habits. We shared that day, and it was great.
Night walk at a Corniche (a path near the water) near Muharraq. Lit dow ships (fishing ships) in the background, with the skyline of Manama.
We found swings along the Corniche, and we both didn't get sick. The set almost fell down, but it was no big deal.
My bedroom. Not really. Wouldn't that be sweet? This is a room at the Jasra House, which has been preserved from 1907. We didn't get to jump on the bed. It's okay, though.
Johanna got a shot of the school where I work from the road from the car. A note about the car: car rides were a big part of this trip. I am not a seasoned Bahrain driver (as my crash the day I borrowed the car from Rhonda would show), so a lot of our time was spent figuring out the spiraling roads of the island. Luckily, Katrina and Joe Ladwig let us borrow their gps device. The woman in the box made us laugh many times with her directions, as she would sometimes say in one breath: "keep left, stay right, bear right, turn left.....recalculating." Construction is so constant on the island, that the poor woman was quite confused whenever we couldn't go a certain route. By the second day, we had come up with a new programmed phrase she should say, "I don't know...good luck." But, really, she was extremely helpful, and we would not have gotten anywhere without her. Thank you Ladwigs!!!
Another room at the Jasra house. I want this to be my dining room when I grow up.
Our New Year's day dinner. Oh my gosh. SO good. Another restaurant where we were the only white people, which I found to be one of my favorite environments to find. The restaurant was called Al Arisha, and I have never had so many dishes in front of me made with so much love at a restaurant. They kept wanting us to try new dishes on the house, and so much of it was so gooooood!
The dessert they brought us for free. Do you want any dessert? We looked at him, the food we just ate basically bulging out of our eyeballs. Okay okay, he said. No dessert. But, let me just bring you a Lebanese dessert, a very small sample. It is very good. It was good. Crispy noodley things with sugar water that you pour over it, and creaminess inside.
Happy New Year! I love my family SO much.
And here's to my seal-eyed prince, who has been such a comfort and shepherd for the past 13 years. This was a heartache across the ocean to not be able to rub his paws and say goodbye this past week. It was nice to have the internet to get updates on his health, though. I also have parents who are so caring and loving, and it was good to know they were with him as he passed. He had a good life, but passage is still so hard. Love you, Meeshy!
I am eternally grateful for the love around me, for my students, for talking, for friends, for memories, and for adventures still to come.
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