The smell of newness
The first thing that hits you about Bahrain is the smell.
I’ve been here two days now, albeit isolated, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
It reminds me of the musty mould smell of South Coast holiday bungalows, but there’s something else, not entirely unpleasant but slightly acrid. It may be the desert, the salt water, perhaps the cooking spices or the oversized American sedans and rovers everyone races down winding alleys – 80 gallon tanks are standard in a country that hasn’t seen a petrol price change in 15 years, or the output of probably three air conditioning units per head.
I suspect it’s the latter. See, the second thing that hits you is the heat. When we landed at 8.30pm the temperature was 31C and the sun long gone. Midday at the moment is at about 40C and this is Spring temperatures – I haven’t seen anything yet, the first Saffir I met warns me.
But it’s a strange heat that hits you like a wall when I open the sliding door to my balcony in the morning. Yet, I haven’t even broken a sweat and as most of you will know, I can drench myself at a mild temperature in South Africa. Especially in Durban, which this place reminds me a lot of, only that it’s floating in the Persian gulf and is furnished by the East Rand consumers Richard and I spotted in the furniture expo at the Rand Mall – kitsch kitsch baby.
If I edit out the purple and yellow holiday block facing me from the balcony, I have a flat paradisically turquoise sea stretching out on three sides of me. It’s right there. But apparently people don’t go to the beach: Beaches are owned by the hotels and are expensive. In fact, there’s apparently only three.
So, I’m still puzzling as to what people actually do here. Pray, yes, a lot. In the bathrooms at work there are hooks on the wall on which the women keep little bags containing the required religious utensils to wash themselves for their lunchtime prayers. Fridays seem to be dedicated to prayer and the vast majority of the country works a six-day week.
Thankfully my company has “western affectations” and we get Saturday and Friday off. However, this does mean that we have to work a 9-hour day.
Their other great god is that of consumerism. Malls, malls, malls. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Today, sitting in the food court of one, I could have been in South Africa if everyone wasn’t dressed as Lawrence of Arabia. The titles of two magazines I’ll be working on: Arabian Knight and Arabian Lady.
My boss, who picked me up from the airport, told me over dinner that hardly anyone still wears this traditional dress. He was the only Arab, apart from the waiters and cooks, not in their robes. But I guess it’s what you’re trained to see. I’ve been on the look out for westerners, to try and establish the existence of this mythical expat community. I saw my first four today in the mall, that is, other than the couple I work with.
The work is heavy at the moment, as it is at any new job for the first while. But with an editor that left before I arrived (I haven’t worked out why yet) there was a pile of work on my desk before I even arrived. I do have my own office: A first. The people seem genuinely friendly, more so than anywhere before – feeling comfortable after two days is a record for me. Of course, I still have to see how deep that runs.
I also almost have my own flat. Moving on Saturday.
This is a historic post, dated June 2.
I’ve been here two days now, albeit isolated, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
It reminds me of the musty mould smell of South Coast holiday bungalows, but there’s something else, not entirely unpleasant but slightly acrid. It may be the desert, the salt water, perhaps the cooking spices or the oversized American sedans and rovers everyone races down winding alleys – 80 gallon tanks are standard in a country that hasn’t seen a petrol price change in 15 years, or the output of probably three air conditioning units per head.
I suspect it’s the latter. See, the second thing that hits you is the heat. When we landed at 8.30pm the temperature was 31C and the sun long gone. Midday at the moment is at about 40C and this is Spring temperatures – I haven’t seen anything yet, the first Saffir I met warns me.
But it’s a strange heat that hits you like a wall when I open the sliding door to my balcony in the morning. Yet, I haven’t even broken a sweat and as most of you will know, I can drench myself at a mild temperature in South Africa. Especially in Durban, which this place reminds me a lot of, only that it’s floating in the Persian gulf and is furnished by the East Rand consumers Richard and I spotted in the furniture expo at the Rand Mall – kitsch kitsch baby.
If I edit out the purple and yellow holiday block facing me from the balcony, I have a flat paradisically turquoise sea stretching out on three sides of me. It’s right there. But apparently people don’t go to the beach: Beaches are owned by the hotels and are expensive. In fact, there’s apparently only three.
So, I’m still puzzling as to what people actually do here. Pray, yes, a lot. In the bathrooms at work there are hooks on the wall on which the women keep little bags containing the required religious utensils to wash themselves for their lunchtime prayers. Fridays seem to be dedicated to prayer and the vast majority of the country works a six-day week.
Thankfully my company has “western affectations” and we get Saturday and Friday off. However, this does mean that we have to work a 9-hour day.
Their other great god is that of consumerism. Malls, malls, malls. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Today, sitting in the food court of one, I could have been in South Africa if everyone wasn’t dressed as Lawrence of Arabia. The titles of two magazines I’ll be working on: Arabian Knight and Arabian Lady.
My boss, who picked me up from the airport, told me over dinner that hardly anyone still wears this traditional dress. He was the only Arab, apart from the waiters and cooks, not in their robes. But I guess it’s what you’re trained to see. I’ve been on the look out for westerners, to try and establish the existence of this mythical expat community. I saw my first four today in the mall, that is, other than the couple I work with.
The work is heavy at the moment, as it is at any new job for the first while. But with an editor that left before I arrived (I haven’t worked out why yet) there was a pile of work on my desk before I even arrived. I do have my own office: A first. The people seem genuinely friendly, more so than anywhere before – feeling comfortable after two days is a record for me. Of course, I still have to see how deep that runs.
I also almost have my own flat. Moving on Saturday.
This is a historic post, dated June 2.
posted by Nadine at 12:33 PM
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