Chew on snot
Yup. Sick sick sick. Brain caked in snot and my breathing rasping like Darth Vader. In fact, the whole office is down with it.
The conversation always starts with, “Yes, everyone is sick. You know what it is…” And then everyone completes the sentence differently. Blame is ladled on everything from it being the Saudies to constantly walking between air-conditioning and sweltering temperatures, some wind that always brings disease, the humidity that brings the germs up from the pavement to our nostrils, or smoking.
Today I had to pull our feature about Google because the government has blocked Google Earth. Last night I had nightmares about trying to find an interviewee for our profile article. My colleague was horrified to discover that I dream about work. I told her I dream about everything, even the Lebanon-Israel war and all the skyscrapers going up in the city (then I become really really big and start climbing over them like King Kong).
The weekend was mostly spent in snotty self-pity. On Friday some Indian colleagues took me on the first of a series of dinings aimed at educating me about Indian food. They tried their damndest to dislodge my snot with their hottest curries, but alack my tastebuds were already numb.
The night before that I went to that party but fell into one of my silent moods – not conducive to making new friends, but it was tough anyway being four hours behind in terms of drinking. Also noted that I was the only girl in the room not seriously overweight and recalled someone’s warning that Bahrain makes you fat.
Did speak to one pretty cool chick who said “don’t settle for the first social group you find in Bahrain”. Okay. Also swapped numbers with a Saffir from da East Rand who wants to go exploring the rural areas of the island (he’s also new). During my lift home I bombarded my dear hostess with slurred, ernstige questions about Bahrain and she kept answering “I don’t know”. I kept on. Agh, it wasn’t my finest hour.
Oh, and then on Saturday I charmed a business man in the hope that he’d organize me an interview with his famous brother. (Hmm. Actually it was quite a busy weekend). The charming went well and his eyes twinkled, but he can only help me out for the next issue.
He also told me something rather interesting: Bahrain is one of the few places in the Middle East where the locals actually work. Apparently there is some indigenous wheel shouldering in Oman, but that it’s mostly window dressing. AND an interesting piece of economical history: In the early nineties, Bahrain was the top Middle East location, Dubai only a pile of dust. After the Gulf War, Iran or Syria – can’t remember – tried to claim Bahrain as theirs. Although they didn’t succeed and that was when the US army base pulled in for Bahrain’s protection, it gave Bahrain some really bad press and that’s when Dubai overtook Bahrain.
Watched Motorcycle Diaries. It inspired me again.
The conversation always starts with, “Yes, everyone is sick. You know what it is…” And then everyone completes the sentence differently. Blame is ladled on everything from it being the Saudies to constantly walking between air-conditioning and sweltering temperatures, some wind that always brings disease, the humidity that brings the germs up from the pavement to our nostrils, or smoking.
Today I had to pull our feature about Google because the government has blocked Google Earth. Last night I had nightmares about trying to find an interviewee for our profile article. My colleague was horrified to discover that I dream about work. I told her I dream about everything, even the Lebanon-Israel war and all the skyscrapers going up in the city (then I become really really big and start climbing over them like King Kong).
The weekend was mostly spent in snotty self-pity. On Friday some Indian colleagues took me on the first of a series of dinings aimed at educating me about Indian food. They tried their damndest to dislodge my snot with their hottest curries, but alack my tastebuds were already numb.
The night before that I went to that party but fell into one of my silent moods – not conducive to making new friends, but it was tough anyway being four hours behind in terms of drinking. Also noted that I was the only girl in the room not seriously overweight and recalled someone’s warning that Bahrain makes you fat.
Did speak to one pretty cool chick who said “don’t settle for the first social group you find in Bahrain”. Okay. Also swapped numbers with a Saffir from da East Rand who wants to go exploring the rural areas of the island (he’s also new). During my lift home I bombarded my dear hostess with slurred, ernstige questions about Bahrain and she kept answering “I don’t know”. I kept on. Agh, it wasn’t my finest hour.
Oh, and then on Saturday I charmed a business man in the hope that he’d organize me an interview with his famous brother. (Hmm. Actually it was quite a busy weekend). The charming went well and his eyes twinkled, but he can only help me out for the next issue.
He also told me something rather interesting: Bahrain is one of the few places in the Middle East where the locals actually work. Apparently there is some indigenous wheel shouldering in Oman, but that it’s mostly window dressing. AND an interesting piece of economical history: In the early nineties, Bahrain was the top Middle East location, Dubai only a pile of dust. After the Gulf War, Iran or Syria – can’t remember – tried to claim Bahrain as theirs. Although they didn’t succeed and that was when the US army base pulled in for Bahrain’s protection, it gave Bahrain some really bad press and that’s when Dubai overtook Bahrain.
Watched Motorcycle Diaries. It inspired me again.
posted by Nadine at 12:18 PM
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