Life

Sometimes life just gets too busy.

Lesson planning
- Math
- Writing
- Grammar
- Unit of Inquiry
Running
- Week 5 Day 2 of Marathon Training
Teaching (which includes but is certainly not limited to)
- Corralling, herding, and rounding up my students
- Helping my students learn the value of knowledge
- Loving, loving, loving them
- Listening, disciplining, soothing owies, giving hugs, sorting out problems, mediating between friends (or enemies), fostering an environment of unconditional love, acceptance, and love for learning
- Pouring forth every ounce of energy I own for my exuberant and energetic students
Driving
- i.e. taking my life into my hands!!!!
Cleaning
- Dust
- Dust
- And, yeah, more dust!!
Post-Grad courses
- Videoed Observation
- Hypothetical unit lesson plans
- Professional Development Webinars
- Written Responses
- Collaboration, collaboration, and more collaboration
Eating
- Oh right, I need to do this...
Sleeping
- Zzzz

So today, when the power went out after we got home from school, I walked into my still cool apartment and set my school bags down.

It was quiet.

My computer was dead.

My treadmill wouldn't work.

Disconnection from the world accomplished!

Two hours of blissful silence reigned

As I rested my weary head

Then whir, hum, pop, stir

Life returned again.


Moral of the Story:  Next time I need a two-hour nap, I'll just call the electric company! :-)

 

Urban Homesteading and Syllabus Shock

Urban Homesteading

There has long been a part of me that loves the idea of homesteading.  If ever I had a chance to take part in one of those "reality" shows where they stick a family on a rural farm or ranch, I'd grab my hat off its hook, lasso from my bedpost, and tug on my boots.  However, given that I live in a city five minutes away from two grocery stores, and have no need for those aspects of homesteading which I find so fascinating, you might think me a bit silly to not only ponder the idea but endeavour to fulfill it. 

I do find it rather amusing that at no time during my stay in the the beautiful, soul-inspiring and rugged west, where my neighbors owned cows and pumped their water from the river, did I even try to tackle this idea.  Rather, I began to feel out the process of doings these things when thousands of miles from appropriate supplies and anyone who knew what "canning" meant.  Here, try as I might, there are no "pressure canning" supplies, no canning wax, and rather little I can do in the way of gardening.  But I have prevailed!

I began this year by canning my own pear jam.  I had far too many pears that were becoming ripe and decided, 'It's time!'  So mush, mush, mush and into the pot they went.  One heavenly-scented house later, I canned the most yummy pear-cinnamon jam ever.  Rank: Beginning Homesteader ;-)  In the following months, I canned my own pickles, garlic, and onions, made salad dressings, cleaning supplies, makeup remover, face masks and even made my own cheese! 

My latest project?  Yogurt making!  This is my first attempt and if it works, I'll never buy another container of yogurt again!  I'm using what has to be the easiest recipe for yogurt making ever and if you're interested, you can find it here. I bought jello moulds to put the finished product in, that way I can freeze half the batch in perfect portion sizes for smoothies.

What about you?  Any "urban homesteaders" out there? 

Syllabus Shock

Ahh... syllabus shock.  Something I had long forgotten about and find myself facing yet again.  As a full-time teacher of 40+ students, I give homework, read homework, give grades, enter grades, create tests, think up creative ways to keep my kids challenged and interested in their school work, differentiate, group, individualize, separate, pair together, create goals, share objectives, plan, assess, communicate with parents, administration, and coworkers and otherwise use up every minute of every school day until the bell rings.  When I go home, I'm glad to be there, and typically say 'ahhh' as I pad around in comfy clothes.  But not any more.  Now, I must take a full year of online courses to appease the powers that be in the glorious state of California.

Yesterday was the day of doom.  My online courses came online - and so did the syllabus.  If only those little pieces of emailed paper were policemen, I'd simply run away and be done with it.  Alas, they will be my constant companions for the next 8+ weeks.  Read me.  Hey!  I said READ ME!  Do this, do that, post here, record your learning there.  Look at us - we demand your time!  We do not ask for it, we demand it!  That is what those 27kb pieces of paper clouded with ink say to me.  Not very friendly. 

I was rather stressed out when all those bits of ink pounced their way through my inbox and demolished my yearnings to run barefoot through the tall grass (wait, grass?  What grass?).  But I have come to recognize my reaction - one I used to have every quarter while going through college.  And now that I have diagnosed my problem, syllabus shock, I can thankfully say, this too shall pass.  I still have thoughts like, "Hey, syllabus, I teach full time.  I have kids who depend on me and colleagues to plan with.  I have lessons to create and things to do.  Don't you get that?"  And then I think, "Oh yeah, that's why you, my online syllabus, was created." 
 

Run Away!

During the drive home today, I was talking with a coworker and was reminded of a funny story I wanted to post.  So here it is :-)

Two days ago, I was merrily driving home after school ended when I came up to a round about.  Now, many of you, my American readers, have yet to experience one of these pieces of ingenuity.  Instead of a four-way stop sign or a stop light, the designers of this fair country plopped a cement circle in what we know as the intersection and decided to contribute to the rat race by making us drive in circles (because running in circles during our work day wasn't enough).  Idealistically, it works like this.  In reality, it works like this with lots of these hanging out at each one.

I waited for several minutes while traffic streamed past me, too thick to even think about entering the fray.  Then, just as I was wondering if I would make it home, preferably prior to my 9 o'clock bed time, the clouds parted and a brief spot opened up.  A green van pulled up to my left and decided that he had enough time to venture out as well.  I instantly surmised I'd be safe, due to the rather self-serving fact that if there was a problem, he'd get hit first. 

Well, as it would happen, the green van gunned his engine a little faster than I and darted out into traffic while I merged just after him.  All of a sudden, I saw two things.  1. A police car.  2. A car rather quickly approaching.  With no choice but to follow through, I pushed my little Toyota Yaris to it's limit and popped into the open space. 

Instantly red and blue lights started flashing behind me.  

My first thought?  FASTER!  Take the alley and ditch them!  I can't get a ticket for what I just did!  Are there even any rules for roundabouts? 

WHAT??  Yes, my friends, those were my thoughts as I rounded that roundabout just ahead of the car which I apparently cut off.  I had to laugh all the way home.  If I were in the states and a police car flipped on his lights due to my actions, I'd mentally kick myself, dutifully pull over, and wait for him to hand over a ticket along with my license and registration.  But here?  Oh, no.  I would never do that.  The first thought that goes through my mind?  Run away! 

Side Note:  I never did get a ticket.  The police car apparently decided simply making his presence known was enough.  But just in case they had come after me, I had a few alternate routes up my sleeve. ;-)

 

Questionable Ethics and Maybe Just a Little TMI

Questionable Ethics

When living overseas, in the midst of a different culture and different sets of ethics, you can quite easily find yourself in the midst of an activity that might be considered questionable.    Such as buying DVDs... from the DVD man on the corner...who pirates them. 

Upon first arriving to the Island, I couldn't find my way to the grocery store down the street let alone make it to a proper store that sold proper non-counterfeit versions of the entertainment product (I'm not exactly great with directions).  So, rationalizing my purchase, I began to buy from our friendly neighborhood DVD man.

Recently, I was involved in a... confrontation of sorts... regarding an item which was not rightfully owned by the person who had it in possession.  This incident, during which the person realized that they were in the wrong, prompted me to examine my own pile of not so rightly-owned items.  I am very aware that some people reading this will probably roll their eyes and say that I'm making a big deal out of nothing - and what about all the bad ethics of the people who make movies in the first place?  But to you, I simply say I cannot account for the people behind the DVD industry, I can only account for my own actions.  So, to wrap this short story up, I took each one of my wrongly owned DVDs and made them unusable.  Amazon.com digital copies, here I come!

                 Scratched, broken, cracked, microwaved, and no longer wrongfully owned DVDs.


Maybe Just a Little TMI

Today while discussing a story recently read with my students, one of my darlings piped up and said that kissing on the lips (shock, horror, gasp!) was "haram" - wrong or forbidden.  She went on to say that it was "haram" for Muslims to kiss.  Period. 

I found this rather amusing and quipped, "What do you think your mother and father do?  Shake hands?"

At which point my sweet little student's jaw dropped and her gaping mouth was accentuated by her bugging eyes.  She then stated for her friends who were now listening, "My mom and dad have NEVER kissed!"  I laughed while another student whispered that she had seen her mother and father kiss once  while they thought no one was looking.  The little girl who so adamantly affirmed her parents' chastity looked downright shocked to think of her parents committing such an unheard of act.  I had to laugh but also wondered if I had just mistakenly crossed the invisible line between classroom discussion and discussion of the sacred.  I think for that little girl, those few minutes contained just a little Too Much Information.

 

F words, Semantics, and Desert Beauty

F Words:  My kids are great.  If  you continue reading this for any length of time, I'm sure you'll be regaled with numerous accounts of my students' antics, quirks, and qualities that make you go "awww."  It's usually the kids who make me laugh, but occasionally the tables are turned and they get a pretty good hee-haw out of something their teacher did or said.  I love laughing with my students - it creates such a camaraderie.  A shared joke, a knowing look, a laugh-out-loud moment - those are things we can store away and share with each other.  Grades don't matter, home-life fades away, and schoolyard bullies become nonexistent in the warmth and joy of shared laughter. 

My students are working on an ABC book project for their language unit.  These kiddos of mine are third graders, so picture something like this: Alice's Alphabet.  Each group of four students is given a letter of the alphabet and as a group must create an alliterative rhyming poem to go with their letter.  Overall, they're coming up with some very creative writing pieces.  One group, however, didn't quite catch the idea at first.  At the time of my viewing their poem, it went something like this:
F is for Francis who went to the zoo and ate a hamburger and went to school and had a good day.  I briefly reviewed the need for alliteration in their poem and succinctly told them, "You're getting the idea, but you need more F words."  Both boys looked at me with widened eyes and mouths agape.  Their rapidly growing grins turned into outright laughter and I joined right in! 

What would this world be without laughter?

Semantics:  On another language note, semantics play a very important role in communication.  One of my students has a one-on-one aide to help her during the day.  A recent writing piece turned in by this child was far higher than her ability level and made me question the ownership of such a fine piece.  I asked my sweet student whether or not they had, indeed, written the piece.  This student affirmed that yes, they had written all of it.  When I asked the aide, she, too, said that the child had penned the piece.  After a few go-arounds of questioning similar to this, I decided to change my tactic.

 I finally asked the aide whether she had told my student what to write and, lo and behold, her answer was a sheepish yes.  Both student and aide had been truthful in their answers to me for the child had, in fact, written the words with her own hand.  What they missed, however, was the deeper implied meaning of what I asked - who created the story.  Semantics!

Desert Beauty

Finally, here is a lovely picture to end on.  It's taken me three years to find beauty on this island.  Though it doesn't come close to the beauty I have known and loved from home, it is there if you look for it.  This island has a lot of dirt, a lot of sand, a lot of cement, and very little beauty.  Even the beaches (what few there are) pale in comparison to those I know and love from home.  But beauty is there.... if you look for it.

 

I'm Back! No... Forward!

While browsing through my favorites bar, on pure happenstance I landed upon my blog and read what I had written long ago (I know, usually people land on blogs other than their own - that tells you how long it's been!).  I read post #1, thinking back to my first impressions of this tiny dot of an island on the map.  I read my second post, then third.  Memories of students, crazy driving incidents, and a desire to understand my new place of residence all came flooding back in wonderful succession. 

It wasn't until I looked at the "stats" of my blog that I decided to do something various people had urged me to do in the past: keep writing.  My stats told me that, though I thought my blog was long dead, people were actually still reading it! 

Though I would like to say, "I'm back!" I'm not going to officially commit to anything that grand.  Rather, I'm forward. :-P  I'm looking forward to posting stories about the past two years of life, looking forward to catching you, my reader, up to this point in time.  And I'm looking forward to posting stories, pictures, and "snapshots" of life as it is being lived today.  Please read through the past few posts (there aren't many) and get ready for new ones to come!  I am looking forward to sharing this journey with you!

Found at last: Bahraini Culture!

Happy New Year my blog readers!

I know it has been a considerable amount of time since I have posted something on this site but I do have an excuse - for half of this month I was living outside of my overseas home and spent time instead with my family for the holidays. 

But!  I am now back and so are the blog posts.  I will endeavor to post more often than I have, so be sure to check back for more posts about life in Bahrain.

Shortly before I left to go home for the holidays, a friend of mine took me to the local souq, or outdoor market, where one needs a guide to find all the good spots and shops that aren't purely for tourists.  It was in the souq, down winding alleyways and apparent dead ends which led to more alleyways, that I finally got a glimpse of real Bahraini culture.

One of the first shops we stopped at was a spice shop.  It was run by a father and son and offered everything from dried lemons to Spanish saffron.  We asked about the price per kilo for unshelled peanuts and promptly received several for our sampling.  When our order was bagged we again received several as a 'thank you'.

Our next stop was a more touristy shop which had T-Shirts and other assorted Bahraini paraphernalia for sale.  Here as I was deciding which of the items to purchase for family members I was given an effusive "Welcome to Bahrain!"  The shop owner relayed his wishes that I would find Bahrain an enjoyable place to stay.

After only two shops I had finally found what I had been looking for since my arrival: Bahraini culture.  The specific aspect of culture which greeted me in the souq was warm Bahraini hospitality. 

Much of the Middle East is known for its hospitality which dates so far back the concept is no longer merely tradition but is practically a part of the genetic make-up of all Middle Easterners.  Bahraini owners in shop after shop greeted me warmly and repeated the wishes of other shop keepers that I would find my stay in Bahrain to be a pleasant one.

On the way out of the souq we took one last stop.  It was a jeweler's shop and when we entered, the owner was quite happy to show us his wares and speak to us about aspects of the jeweling trade.  Concerned that he might think we were there to purchase something, my friend told the man that we were just looking around and that this was my first trip to the souq.  He smiled in understanding, looked at me and said, "Do not worry.  You are like my daughter." 

Hospitality given by complete strangers, warmth, friendliness, and a short lesson in the jewel trade from a man I had never met: this is Bahraini culture at its finest.

A Middle Eastern America

After only a month since last posting, I have had my questions and quandaries concerning Bahraini lifestyle and culture confirmed!  Two days ago a good Arab friend of mine, who happens to have lived here since 1953, told me, "This is a Middle Eastern America.  You will not be homesick here." 

There it is!  So like America, this little island is becoming known as the "Middle Eastern America."  Shopping malls in abundance, any American food/restaurant you can imagine, all conveniences Americans have come to rely upon, and MORE - any other food from nearly any other culture you might wish for, free to-your-door delivery of almost anything from any store, and a freedom that is virtually non-existent in any other country in the region. 

Though satisfied that my suspicions were correct, I am still rather baffled by the lack of Bahraini culture.  Just as America is a "melting pot" of people, cultures and customs, Bahrain also has its degree of "stir the soup" mentality - there are far more expats than nationals, and the expats come from all over Europe, America, India, the Philippines and parts of Africa.  While this is definitely a Muslim country, Christmas trees and Christmas decorations have been put up in all the major Hypermarkets, malls, and hotels.  Half of my students, though they are all Muslim, celebrate Christmas.  Some Bahraini families celebrated Thanksgiving and a few stores had Halloween decorations up in October!

I must say the longer I live here, the more baffled I become by this country.  I think this is honestly one of the strangest places in which I've ever lived. 

As I look forward to the holidays and spending a few days at home, my thoughts on the oh-so-common "reverse culture shock" are thus: I'm going to feel like I left America and am living in a country that does not lay claim to that name.  For, instead of exulting over all the missed items I couldn't get here, I'm going to see what I can purchase every day - and then will wonder where all the items from all over the world are and why they are in places like "China Town" instead of one gigantic Hypermarket!  :-D

Internet Connection and Bahraini Culture

I have internet connection!  This is exciting for a few reasons.  First, having internet means that my CPR card, the card which officially allows me to live in the country, has arrived! :-D  (I couldn't get internet without it)  Second, I can now keep this blog and you, my readers, up to date on life in Bahrain.  Third, well, it's just great to have internet that is not temporary and borrowed!

I cannot believe it is already November.  Last night's and today's weather heralded the change of seasons by doing something every Bahraini and expat loves - it rained!!  A downpour!  The weather in general is finally cooling off, the skies are becoming clear, and the air fresh.  Winter here is like fall in California and it is quite lovely.

Now, let me tell you about America, I mean Bahrain.  

In many ways Bahrain is one of the strangest places I've ever lived in.  This strangeness is not owing to it's foreign-ness, but rather its degree of familiarity.  When I first stepped off the plane, this small island held all the aspects of any foreign home - a different language, new customs, transportation difficulties, new people, and very little with which I could compare to something familiar.  However, the longer I live here, the stranger this place becomes, not because of its initial overwhelming feeling of being foreign, but because of its growing sense of familiarity.

Let's start with the grocery stores and my first general surprise.  The stores here are huge.  Not Super Walmart huge, but HUGE, most being two stories or more (and are quite aptly called "Hypermarkets").  The first floor contains several eateries, all of which m y readers will recognize - Papa John's Pizza, Burger King, Krispy Kream Donuts, and Subway!  The second floor contains the "grocery" section which includes everything from fresh baked bread to a fish market.  They have peaches flown in from Georgia, oranges from Florida, Oreos, Chips Ahoy, Burtolli Pasta Sauce, Dryers Ice Cream, and Coco Puffs cereal.  The only American thing I've come to realize they don't have (and wish they do) is Cheez-its.  The third floor contains anything else you could possibly want from refrigerators to laptops to designer saris for the Indian ladies to clothing for the whole family.  Needless to say, the first time a coworker took me to get groceries, I was blown away!

But my shock did not end there.  It continued to grow the minute I stepped into one of Bahrain's many malls.  As with the grocery stores, the malls are big and left me wondering where in the world I was.  In one mall I could get Louis Vuitton purses, Sax Fifth Avenue items, gold and diamond jewelry that cost a fortune, Mac makeup, chocolate that was flown in from Paris, all of my groceries at the attached Hypermarket,  laptop computers, internet and cellphone connection, items I could buy in the outdoor market (without the bargaining power), coffee from a local café or Starbucks, have a snack at Pinkberry (yes they have this too!), and choose to dine on any kind of main course dish I liked from nearly any category of cuisine -  all during closing hours that make me wonder if Bahrain ever sleeps! 

Bahrain comes alive at night and right around 6-7pm the malls fill to the brim with a bustle of people that makes Christmas shopping look pretty tame.  Everywhere there are Bahrainis shopping, eating, talking, and walking about with bags and sacks and shopping carts stuffed with groceries, clothing, and any other item which they might wish to purchase.

After seeing all of this, my initial reaction was, "Where am I?  And where is your culture?"  I felt like I had taken a 30 hour plane flight all to step off and land right back in America.  Though driving may at times prove a challenge, it is not difficult for a "westerner" to live here.  In fact, as I write this, I am sitting at a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, sipping a Vanilla Late, listening to American "starbucks" music, very much in the comfort of something similar if not nearly identical to my own culture.

The longer I live here, the more I want to discover the Bahraini culture that is all around me, flowing in and through everything done and said.  I have yet to really put my finger on the pulse of the cultural beat that I know exists within this tiny island country.  But with a contract that states I'm living here for at least another year and a half, I hope to find it!  Perhaps this time next year I'll be able to tell you all about it.

1,2,3s and A,B,Cs

It's hard to describe what the first week of teaching was like.  Perhaps I could say it was like a whirlwind.  Or maybe a tornado.  Maybe I could even liken it to a small earthquake.  However, no analogy will describe it quite accurately enough as this: I felt like I had been run over by a bus.  A school bus.

I reported in for work at 6:30am sharp, readied my classroom, and waited for my first kiddos to show.  Within fifteen minutes five of my students were already playing in my room; fifteen minutes after that my class population had doubled.  Most of my kids already knew each other (from attending prekindergarten at the same school) so they were comfortable and fortunately there were no criers.  By our 7:30 starting time, I had all fifteen students listed on my roster plus a new student. 

During the first day we toured the classroom, talked about standing in line, stood in line, went on break, ate lunch, played nicely with each other, learned a letter or two, sang a song, explored all the varying stations in our little classroom (art, math, reading, writing, and free play), and before we all knew it, it was time to go home already!  Day 1 down.

Since Day 1, the students have learned our class rules, faithfully charted daily weather, learned the days of the week, have begun writing letters and numbers, learned three nursery rhymes, have written their own book of nursery rhymes, had stories read to them, learned about the Ugly Duckling and Puss in Boots, visited the school library, have begun learning sight words, can tell you their colors and several of their shapes, have each spoken in front of the class, and can all do A-K in sign lanugage.  If this sounds pretty good to you it sounds exhausting to me! 

Along with the intellectual side of school, the students have also learned how to make friends, hurt each other's feelings, say sorry, share (in a definitely on-going process), walk in class, respect each other, respect their teacher, help each other, clean up after themselves, and have fun.  I have already talked to varying students about hitting each other, poking each other, trying to pick each other up, hugging each other, not sharing, being nice, standing in line, obeying the first time, listening, raising their hands, NOT running in the classroom, and learning to listen even if they're standing up (for the wiggly ones).  I think about the only issue I have not dealt with yet is biting another student (and hopefully won't have to!)

In short, I can say, now with TWO weeks under my belt, I am thoroughly enjoying being a kindergarten teacher!  The kids are a blast and are SO curious about everything!  They like to learn and enjoy it.  I love seeing them grow intellectually and in all other areas of life.  Being able to foster a classroom environment of love and acceptance with firm discipline is a huge task but a great joy.  I am looking forward to seeing just how much my little kiddos grow by the time I am writing a post about leaving for the summer!

Little things can be a big reward for a teacher, such as hearing a student say, "Thank you, Miss Sherrie, for all you did for us today."  WOW!  Now THAT brightens my day - no matter how crazy it's been!

Well, I'm heading into town (I don't think I'll get lost this time).  I've got to go pick up our class pet - mini turtles!

Driven Around the Bend

Yesterday marks a rather significant achievement in the life of yours truly.  For the first time since arriving on the Island, I got into a car and drove from my residence to the capital city - solo! 

Now, for those of you who know me, you realize what a significant thing this is.   For those of you who don't know me, let me state for all time and eternity that I am absolutely HORRIBLE with directions.  I think this is one thing that is used to keep me humble, if nothing else.  I can get lost just about anywhere.  Whenever I drive someone to a place I am vaguely unfamiliar with, that person suddenly switches from being my passenger and friend to my living, breathing, human GPS.  "Turn right in a quarter mile," can often be heard from the passenger side, rather than, "Hey so how was that movie last night?"  No, it's not quite that bad, but you get the idea. 

Needless to say, the thought of me driving alone, having only ridden into town a couple times, warranted a few warning signals in my own mind but I needed to do it and wanted to get out.  I decided to set no goal for myself other than that I would have an adventure.  This way, whether I made it to my desired destinations or not, I would achieve my goal.

I headed toward one of the major roadways I needed to get onto and achieved both finding it and placing my little red Toyota Yaris onto it amidst the traffic.  I rather quickly developed into a defensive and offensive driver all at once, needing both skills to maintain my right to hurtle all 3 tons of metal down the roadway without getting honked at for staying behind a slow vehicle, having lights flashed at me for moving too slowly in general, or police lights coming behind me and pulling me over for going too quickly (at which speed they do this I've still yet to ascertain).

Just ten minutes into my drive I became rather excited when I neared my destination without incident of metal meeting metal or myself getting hopelessly lost.  And that's when the real adventure began.  I took one off-ramp too early.  In the states I'd just get back on the highway but not here.  I exited onto a 3-lane roundabout.  Because of the traffic, I couldn't switch lanes and ended up driving into a city I doubt I'd heard of before that point in time.  Since "all roads lead to Rome" I decided to stay on the thoroughfare, knowing it'd eventually lead to a main street which led back to the main city. 

After five minutes the nice big two-lane road reduced to a small two-lane street, then became a one-lane road which plunged into back street alleyways which probably should never see vehicle traffic, let alone vehicles coming both ways with cars parked on both sides of the "street," and sometimes double parked at that!  I was stared down, honked at, nearly hit a dozen times, squeezed, pushed, pulled, and driven around the bend.  You know those areas "they" tell you to never go into as a white female foreigner?  Yeah, that's where I managed to land myself. 

Miraculously, however, the itty bitty little one-ish lane street became a narrow two-lane street and then became a nice big two-lane road where I could actually see the sky above me and it dumped me out right back into that intersection with the roundabout!  I decided that I didn't care if I drove around the thing ten times, I was getting back onto the interstate!  Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men…

A car stayed right beside me and decided he was going to turn right whether I wanted to go straight or not.  So, stuck on all sides, I began driving into another part of Dodgy Town.  By this time, my traffic offenses were beginning to mount up and they included: nearly running a red light, driving straight through from the left turn lane, jamming myself into traffic lines which should never have been created, and driving the wrong way down one-way roads.  I felt more like a national driver than my driver's license would ever lead me to believe.  So, as soon as I realized that I was heading down another two-way street which was rapidly becoming a one-way road I decided I'd had enough.  In front of three police jeeps, a massive amount of men milling around in front of a mosque, and enough traffic around me than I cared think about, I pulled a completely 100% illegal U-turn to get back onto the more widely travelled upon thoroughfare.  I squished myself between two cars, got in their way and drove back into daylight. 

From that road I somehow found my way back onto the main thoroughfare that took me all the way into the city.  Here, again, the driving was not without issues (I missed the off-ramps, pulled near-illegal street maneuvers, and circled around parking garages twice because I missed the exit), but I made it!  I made it to my destinations! 

And finally, 2 hours later, with purchases bought and stowed in my little car, 6 hours after I had originally left my apartment (it was now 11:00pm), I headed home.  Thankfully, I managed to arrive at home after having only needed to make about 5 LEGAL U-turns and in less than half the time it took to get into town in the first place.

In conclusion, I can say thus: I know about a half dozen places NOT to go, have visited nearly all the legal U-turn spots on the island, and can now successfully drive from my apartment to the capital city (hopefully next time without incident).  So if you ever come to visit, I can probably reasonably get you from point A to point B.  But if you need a lift when I'm back in the states, you'd better know where you want to go!

Life on the Island

There are many things I want to post all at once, but for now I will limit myself to one aspect of life on the Island – Grocery Shopping.

I have yet to acquire my own transportation. This results in one of two things – 1.) Someone drives me places or 2.) I walk. Now, I am not one to mind walking. Given the chance, I would rather ride a bike, but walking isn’t a bad second choice. However, this is the Middle East where women don’t really walk alone. Anywhere. But I need food and no one’s around. I feel a tad bit stressed as I head outdoors, but I’ve got to get groceries, so out I go. It’s nearly 5pm and the sun goes down in 45 minutes, so I need to hustle.

Out the door, around the corner, down the street (avoiding any and all form of the male species), through a dirt lot (still avoiding the male species), down an alley (especially avoiding the male species), around corner #2 and I arrive at the grocery store.

In the store I can relax, breathe easy, and enjoy myself. I can stroll rather carefree down the aisles, perusing the vast quantities of Middle Eastern and imported goods for sale. I may take my time choosing what I like, and can look around to get a good view of my surroundings (without looking at any male faces, of course). Inside the grocery store, I am a happy lark. Until, that is, I look at my watch and realize with some dread that it’s 5:45pm and the sun just dipped below the horizon. That means I need to get going – fast.

I collect the last few items on my list while the call to prayer is broadcast over the loudspeakers and head to the checkout counter. I pay for my purchases, hope the person packing my things doesn’t squash my already too-ripe tomatoes, shove as much as I can in a large shoulder bag, pick up the few remaining sacks, and head for the exit.

Outside, there is just enough light to walk the streets alone as a woman and reasonably get away with it. There happen to be quite a few men out today and I keep my head down, eyes pointed just in front of my feet. Even when a group of elementary school boys approach I lower my head and gaze. I am fully covered except for a head scarf and they all pass on by, noticing that I take no notice of them. My peripheral vision becomes quite good. As does my hearing – I don’t see a car coming as much as I hear it.

Back around the corner, up the alley (always avoiding the men), through the dirt lot, up the street, around the corner, and a slight smile may be seen on my face. I have successfully reached my fair haven, teacher building No. 2, with every single item on my list!    

Except cereal.  Ugh.  Back I go! (Tomorrow!)

Marhaban (Welcome) to Bahrain!

I've made it! After 3 flights, 7 hours of layovers, 4 airplane terminals, 23 hours of travel, 1 pick-up, and 1 hired suitcase carrier , I stepped into the muggy heat of Bahrain. I was cordially welcomed by passport officials and fellow teachers alike to my new home. I was also welcomed by a power outage :-) I guess the power company got so excited to see me that it sent too much power to our building and overtaxed itself. It finally got calmed down enough to say hello around four in the morning - for an hour.

Though the trip was a tad bit grueling (I got sick by the end of it) it was definitely not "plain." Here is a list of people encountered and miracles witnessed. First the people. I met a TSA official who served our country in the Navy, a 9th grade English Intervention teacher, a senior in high school who has been living in Italy for the past year, a man who looked like he could be a pirate, and three Kuwaiti women whose seat assignment was overlapped with mine. Now the miracles. I was only charged $110 for my extra baggage instead of what should have been $400 due to a change in regulations, my cabin luggage was allowed on when another lady's whose bag was around my size had to be checked for an extra fee, I wasn't charged an overweight fee even though one of my bags was 4 pounds over, I was given an aisle seat for my last flight with an empty seat beside me and a lot of leg room, and all of my luggage arrived intact!

Welcome to Bahrain, indeed!  I am pretty well settled in, have already made some great friends, and am beginning to orient myself around the island.  Bahrain is a truly fascinating place to live and I am excited to begin sharing stories and pictures with you in the coming weeks and months.  Stay tuned for post #1 about living in Bahrain!

Plain Ride

Nope, it's not misspelled.  Here is my challenge: To enjoy the travel not just the location.  I often think of adventure as beginning when I arrive in my target location, not during the getting to it part.  As an already tired traveller who has 20 hours of travel ahead of her, this will be a challenge worth meeting. 

Travelling can be stressful, as many of you know.  Bags can get lost, someone may get sick next to you on the plane, and you're typically sleep deprived for much of the time.  That's the side of travel I think of most when I think of twenty hours of planes, airports, taxi rides, and layovers.  But what might I enjoy if I look at travelling itself as an adventure?  Maybe I'll meet a newly wed couple traveling on their honeymoon.  Perhaps I'll see a mysterious man I can write into a crime mystery.  Maybe I'll even meet a millionaire and gain an open invite to her palatial palace in the Swiss Alps.  Okay, that's a bit fantastic.  But still, my challenge is with me as I load my bags into the car, ride to the airport, shuffle through security, stuff myself into a middle seat, and travel the friendly skies.