Whew!

I can breathe a sigh of relief. Today I am 37 weeks pregnant, meaning that there is no chance I will need to go to the government-run, Arabic hospital. On this island, if your baby comes early, no hospital will admit you except for this particular one... and it is a hospital that I visited when I first moved here. I quickly decided that I didn't want to use this place. Everything was written in Arabic, and no one manned the nurse's station in the maternity ward. I stood around for a long time, with nurses walking past me not bothering to acknowledge my presence, because I was not Muslim.

This hospital does not allow epidurals or any men in the delivery room. Meaning, I would have to deliver without any options for pain relief and without my husband. It is the only one on the island with a neonatal ICU, so that is why women delivering early get funneled here. (They also have a policy of not disclosing the baby's sex to expecting parents at the sonogram appts, for fear these families will abort the girls)

I must admit the prospect of delivering in a place like this made me very nervous.

Life Revolves Around the Weather

It's strange adjusting to living life around the weather. I met some people for lunch today, so my car sat out in the midday sun. When I got in to leave (around 2pm) the temperature gauge (which reads outside temps) read 54 celsius (that's 130 F!)

There's a lot of construction going on here, since Bahrain is modeling itself after Dubai and really wanting to expand its tourism industry, as well as just the general influx of expats wanting to live in Bahrain vs. Saudi. Because of the weather, construction pretty much halts in the afternoon. Therefore, we hear construction noise at 5:30am! What a rude awakening. They work at night until 11:30pm! So you pretty much cannot sleep, day or night. I guess this is good practice for when the baby arrives.

People have told me not to go out during the afternoon. Most have adjusted to either doing things in the morning (although most stores don't open until 10am, so you can't start too early) or after 4pm.

Also, daylight hours here are so different from Seattle. Sunrise is around 4:20am, sunsets by 6pm. You'd think it'd cool down by dark, and yes, it does by around 20 degrees-- although that still leaves it 90 degrees at 9pm!

The Liquor Store!

I wanted to take pictures, but wasn't sure if it was allowed. We made it to the tucked-away liquor store in Bahrain! This is a big deal because even though alcohol is allowed on this island, it is not readily available in every restaurant or hotel. Also, it is not stocked by the regular supermarkets. This liquor store is not well-marked, small, and located behind a petrol station. At night the white corrugated gate goes down the front door and you can't even find it. In the daytime, for the first-time visitor, you can't even find it until you spot the emptied out liquor boxes by the Dumpster.

Inside, the store is cool (temperature-wise) and immaculate. It's stocked with a lot of goods, everything lined up so neatly with no holes in the displays.

(I've noticed this about retailers here- liquor store, supermarket, or coffee shop open fridge- they spend a lot of effort to quickly refill stock on display so that you never see any "holes". If you take out a soda, someone always mysteriously shows up to replace the one you took.)

I really expected to just see white faces in the store- thinking this store was only for ex-pats. But surprisingly (or maybe I shouldn't be), there were many locals in there, many of whom I'm sure were Muslim. I'm sure there are many degrees of how strictly you adhere to the religion, but I still think it's so crazy that this huge country of Saudi is dry, but Saudis can drive just 40 minutes to a miniscule island and go to a liquor store.

Ultrasound, Schmultrasound

I was so excited to go to my first ultrasound in the States. I was 5 months pregnant, and I brought the VHS tape the nurse recommended I bring, so that the technician could make a recording. I was crying when I made the appointment, because Jeff was in Casablanca and would not be able to sit next to me. My mom came with me instead, and it was so exciting to see this little being moving and kicking and sucking its thumb. We saw the little feet and ribs and fingers and alien-like head. My doctor told me that this would be the only ultrasound for me. Barring complications, in which case she would order another one around 8 months, I wouldn't need a 2nd ultrasound. The ultrasound tech printed out two pictures for me, each of which she put in a pink and blue keepsake paper frame. I pressed these in a notebook to bring to Saudi to show Jeff. Again, very exciting and special.

When I got to Saudi and started seeing the doctor there, she informed me that I would get an ultrasound at every appointment. So my first appointment in Saudi, Jeff stood next to me and got his chance to view the little alien on the screen. It was really exciting again.

I've now been in the Middle East for about three months now, and have adjusted to seeing my new doctor in Bahrain, and still get an ultrasound at each appointment. Each time he prints out keepsake photos and I dutifully take them home to store.

Just today, I was cleaning out my handbag and crumpled at the bottom was the sheet of ultrasound photos from last week's appointment. I threw them away. Am I terrible mother? The novelty of the ultrasound has completely worn off for me. I asked the doctor if it actually was necessary to have an ultrasound each time, especially since I'm now at the point where I visit the doctor weekly. He smiled and said, "No, it really is just for impressing the patients. You will find that public hospitals in the Middle East will rarely do ultrasounds."

This also made me think about the difference between healthcare costs in the US and the Middle East. Why, if these hospitals all have sonogram machines, do the costs vary so greatly? My ultrasound in the US was $804.09, part of which I was responsible for out-of-pocket. My ultrasounds in Bahrain are free. I pay the co-pay for my consultation with the doctor, which is $7.95. Does this discrepancy make any sense?

By the way, for many weeks now the baby's head was consistently measuring larger than its gestational age. Only last week did its femur catch up. The doctor thinks it will be a tall baby. Yeah, a tall baby with a huge head!

Larger than Life

Huge billboards of two of the three main guys in Bahrain- the King and the Prime Minister. I can't imagine a presidential billboard of this size being erected anywhere in the US. It would be defaced and torn down within a day!

Excess Gas

Gasoline in Saudi Arabia costs $0.36/gallon. Yes, that's right. Not much motivation to carpool or walk. It's also 91 or 95 octane-- higher than what's used in the US.

Gasoline in Bahrain is sooo expensive compared to Saudi. It is $1.00/gallon!

Gimme a break

I am a problem solver at heart. I seek information. When I don’t know something, I look it up. I ask someone. I like to know about things.

This has been immensely helpful in our relocation to the Middle East. There is so much conflicting information everywhere, and we have had no support from the company. I am still sorting through visa and residency issues…which is technically the company’s responsibility. After a bit of floundering, I am quite proud of what I have accomplished in terms of getting us settled down in Bahrain. Jeff works very long hours; often there are flight delays, so when he comes home, it is either 3am, or 7pm and he has been awake since 3am. So whichever shift he is doing, he is exhausted and therefore pretty useless when he comes home. This is a new job, a new career for him, and I can imagine it is pretty overwhelming, so I take care of everything else so that he can focus on it.

What this means is that I have become the source of information for relocating here, being the first to do it. I understand that all the other pilots families have not arrived yet, so they’ve yet to deal with the day-to-day issues of moving to another country. A couple of wives have come to visit, and a few pilots planning to relocate here have visited. We’ve had some overnight guests, many daytime guests, and each one is bursting with questions. This is understandable—I am still bursting with questions, although I’ve already found many answers. But… I am a little resentful. They are getting their answers so easily… from me. I am so tired of answering the questions about how much things cost—housing, internet, phone, groceries, furniture. Of course people want to know—you move to a new country, you have no frame of reference. I did all the legwork and comparison shopped for everything—you know how long that takes? I worked my butt off to learn about this place and didn’t know a single soul in this country. I didn’t have the advantage of having a friend who could show me the ropes. Every answer I have was hard-earned through each false lead, each dead-end I ran into, every drop of sweat, all the kilometers logged in the rental car while my back ached from driving with this big belly!

I have about 6 weeks to go before the baby arrives (if it is on time) and I’d like to concentrate on preparing for that. In the meantime, I am entertaining guests and being a counselor to nervous wives and a cheerleader to a husband who is going through a rough time and exploring Bahrain and researching for resources. I am exhausted. Everything is coming at the same time. Ordinarily I love being the hostess. I love helping people and if they have questions or problems, I love helping them find answers and solutions. But not now. I am just too tired. (Would you like having a grown woman dumped on you at the last second, babysitting her for two days- someone who is very nervous about moving here- who is scared of the “black-colored people” and Indians? Get over it, lady! Oh how Jeff owes me…)

I really wish I didn’t feel resentful. It feels like I’m being selfish. I’ve even suggested that I be the relocation liaison for the company since I’ve already done all the work, so that at least something positive can come out of this. This being a screwed-up company though, this was seen as an outrageous proposition. I am a big believer in being honest with yourself, and at the end of the day, and these are the feelings I have. So be it. Now it is off my chest and I can be done with complaining.

Forever Shopping

So there was an interesting article in the NYT today about Forever 21. I’ve always liked this store. It’s cheap, cheap, cheap in both prices and quality, but for trendy items it can’t be beat. I’ve always noticed their offerings of designer knockoffs getting in store a lot faster than any other retailer. I like to visit the store before going on vacation, because you can get very cheap sundresses and t-shirts and other novelty items that are good for the beach, and I don’t care if they pill or come apart in the wash a couple of months later. A stuffed shopping bag will only set you back around $75. (Although in LA, visiting the huge new Pasadena store, I noticed they have a warning sign at the registers that say something like, "These materials have been known to have lead and cause cancer- I'm paraphrasing but it's equally spooky. Turned me off a bit- as much as I like cheap clothing, it's no longer cute if it puts my life in danger)

Forever 21 is very popular in Bahrain. It is always packed with young girls, wearing abayas or not. I’ve noticed the girls and women here are very fashion-forward. Most of the stores in Bahrain (and Saudi as well) carry the latest fashions and the females who don’t choose to wear the abaya are decked out in the latest trends. I’m sure the same outfits are underneath the abayas as well. In Bahrain however, Forever 21 is not cheap! Same with Topshop. Same with Zara. Places I could count on for cheap fashions are no longer cheap over here. It takes all the fun out of it.

They just opened Gap here in Bahrain. In the States, Gap is crap. I’ve purchased things once they get marked down to $6.99, but it’s because the low price overrides my derision of the bad sewing and fits. Over here, a $24.50 men’s pique polo from the States costs $60! It’s ridiculous. Unfortunately Jeff and I ended up here because he was looking for some lighter weight pants and polos. (It’s reaching 100 degrees every day now). In the end we purchased his clothes from Banana Republic, more expensive than Gap, because it was the only place that had his size! We tried local Arabic stores but they really don’t make clothes to fit American (read: large size) men.

A true tale: At Gap, we asked the salesperson for a size, and she looked in the stockroom but they didn’t have it. She came out with one size smaller and said, “These might work- they follow American sizing which is huge.” Jeff replied, “I am American and I am huge, but these won’t fit.” Oh, she was mortified... tee hee...

The British Invasion

So there’s a supermarket near our house, which we refer to as the “pork store.” It is one of two stores on the island that sells pork. We are lucky one of them is near us. It has a completely separate room in the store that exclusively sells pork products. (They even sell the Jell-O in this room, that’s how strictly the pork is segregated)

My first impression of the expat population here is that it is overwhelmingly British. I don’t know if it’s true, but 9 out of 10 expats I’ve met are from the UK. This store is completely geared toward people from the UK. There are rows of baked beans, spotted dick, and a million kinds of marmalades (yeah, however stereotypical, it’s what I always thought British people eat. Apparently, so does the supermarket buyer).

My first visit there, I was surprised to see so many white faces! Every single customer was Caucasian. Since then I’ve come to the conclusion that this must be an expat grocery store. It feels like I’m cheating when I go there; like I took a trip to NYC and ate at Olive Garden or something. I feel like I should be shopping with the natives instead.

The Kindness of Strangers

I went to my new friends B and L's house the other night. They are a wonderful couple with two small children. B's mom was there also, she goes by "mommy," at least that's what she told me to call her when I asked her how I should call her.

It all started on my first trip to Bahrain, when we were still living in the hotel in Saudi. Jeff was called away to London so I spent a few days in Bahrain alone. I stayed in a hotel that was about a mile away from a giant mall. One afternoon, I walked to the mall, and walked around and watched a movie. It was around 9pm when I headed back to the hotel. I didn't immediately see a taxi stand, but I didn't look very hard since it was only a mile walk and thought it'd be good to get the exercise.

But of course, it was dark outside by then.

I started walking and realized that this is not a walking part of town. Because of the new construction, the area was deserted at night. My brightly lit hotel was like a beacon in the sea, the only "live" structure in this area. I had heard Bahrain was pretty safe, so I continued, thinking that if I walked fast, I would be OK.

I didn't count on every other car honking at me at I walked down the street. What was going on? Were they friendly honks? Menacing honks? I didn't know! I shook my head at each car, seeing as it was usually just one man in the car. Even though Bahrain allows more freedom for women compared to Saudi, it is still a conservative place, especially compared to US standards. I don't think they see many women walking alone at night. Still, I wasn't too keen on hitching a ride with a total stranger.

Another car honked as it passed by slowly. Again I shook my head. It passed me. Then stopped. Then the white backing lights lit up. It slowly made its way backwards on the street toward me. Oh no, I thought. Should I run across the street? Turn back around? The passenger door opened. The driver yelled over, "My family is with me. Let us give you a ride." I peered inside. The driver was a man, the passenger seat empty. The backseat held a woman, an older woman, and they each were holding one child. Phew. I couldn't be in danger with a grandma and two toddlers on board! I climbed in and pointed to the hotel. They dropped me off right in front of the hotel.

During the car ride, we introduced ourselves and they couldn't have been nicer. The husband gave me his business card, and said to look them up if I was in Bahrain again. When Jeff and I decided to move here, I contacted them and since then, struck up a friendship. It's nice to spend time with some "locals!"

At dinner they told me they were so worried about me walking alone! They said no one does that. They said people might mistake me for being Filipino and kidnap me and make me clean their house! Bwah! That might be a little paranoid, but I like hearing this combined with other tidbits-- makes me feel like I'm getting tutored in local mores.

Ma'am (Not Mom)

When I first arrived in Saudi, I noticed that the hotel staff would always greet me with, "Hi, mom." I always returned their hellos, even though I thought it was a little strange. They would ask about the baby, if it was kicking today, stuff like that.

After a few weeks, I mentioned this to Jeff. I said, "Don't you think it's weird, although kinda cute, that they call me mom? It's always mom this, mom that."

Jeff stared at me. "Um, they're calling you ma'am. In their accent."

D'oh!