Author: Robin Chartier

Feast or Fast

We are more than 1/2 way through the month of Ramadan — praise God! Next year, I’m going on vacation. No, I’m not fasting, but the food, drink and dress restrictions basically confine us to our house during the day. It’s much too hot to be outside (even the dog resists going out for potty breaks), especially without food or water. We have been able to go to friends’ houses (now that we’ve made a few) and that helps break up the monotony of the days, but in general the boys lie around watching Netflix on the iPad and I eat chocolate in bed. Believe me, it gets old.

We were at church the other day (a different church, not the dual worship one) and Calvin had a bottle of water that he started drinking out of as we were standing around before service began. One of the pastors saw him and joked, “Is this a Ramadan free zone?” I replied, “It better be!” and we laughed.

Later in the service they served communion and I realized how different the Christian faith is in this area. While Muslims are fasting all day for these 30 days, I go to church and am told, “Eat! Drink! This is my body, broken for you!” God isn’t requiring me to fast to earn his approval . . . he’s the one providing the food and drink through his own sacrifice.

Instead of being irritated that their religion is impinging on my freedom, I should be feeling compassion for those that haven’t discovered that we can “taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8)

Moving day

We are packing up and moving out. The house is not quite completely furnished and our stuff isn’t here, but I’m ready to be settled in our semi-permanent residence so I can get on with the business of figuring out what our life in Bahrain is supposed to look like.

Oh yeah, and we’re picking up our new dog today. Minor detail. Today looks like a feat of juggling many trips in our tiny car — transferring all our suitcases and the other minutiae that has multiplied to the point that it doesn’t all fit in the suitcases, bathing and de-ticking a strange dog, unpacking and settling squabbles (over who’s working more, has the better bed, or what to name the dog), scrubbing out the refrigerator and freezer, all while trying to figure out how to feed everyone in a house with no dishes or cooking utensils in a country where it’s illegal to eat or drink in public until the sun goes down. It’s my Olympic heptathlon. 

 
home 
cooling off

Micah, the dog that came after Jonah

Stupid GPS tricks

This one’s for you Mom, the woman who blessed me with her sense of direction . . . Happy Birthday!

I really shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house. My GPS either doesn’t like me or isn’t very good at her job. Invariably we end up somewhere other than where we are trying to go. It only happens when I’m driving, but I know it couldn’t possibly be user error. 

The other day the boys and I planned to go to the SPCA to look at dogs because, as we have established, I am insane. The current plan is to get a dog the same day that we move into our house because I want Josh to be around to help make the final decision and the day we move in is the only day that he’ll be able to do it. We could wait, but that means waiting until the kids are in school and since this is all for them, gosh darn it, they better be around when we bring this thing home from the shelter.
I had BSPCA already tagged in my favorites in the GPS so I selected it and off we went. Over the bridge and through the desert . . . hey wait now. We didn’t go over this bridge when we went to church or the animal shelter last time. And why am I seeing signs for Sitra, which is near the resort place where we went to swim? That is not near the animal shelter . . . I zoom out and see that I am nowhere near where I’m supposed to be going, even though I swear I programmed it correctly at the beginning. 
started at orange, SPCA is somewhere near the other orange spot, but we drove to a completely different part of the island (pink).
The boys suggest selecting “Church” instead, since it’s in the same area. We’ll be able to find our way to the SPCA once we get to church. Great. I can do that. So we backtrack and start heading in the right direction.  
We’re seeing familiar landmarks and know we’re getting closer when the phone rings. It’s a friend who has run out of gas on the other side of the island and needs me to go pick her up.  
I have to figure out how to get to Amwaj, while she’s stuck standing in the heat on the side of the road with her 2 kids. 
Since she’s new too, I know that I am (unfortunately for her) her only hope. But how to get from where I am to where she is? I have no clue since I barely know where I am. I get off the freeway and try to turn around, but in the roundabouts and things I end up going further into the city and am not making much progress. I have to get back to the freeway. What would be marked in the GPS that would get me headed in that direction? I scroll through the favorites and see “Lulu’s.” Oh, good! Josh must have marked it the other night when we were there with the kids. 
We start driving, I call Josh and tell him my change of plans and thank him for marking Lulu’s. He says he didn’t mark Lulu’s. Maybe I did and I don’t remember? How else would Lulu’s get in my GPS? Wait, where are we going? None of these city choices on the freeway are going in the right direction. It’s like wanting to go to San Francisco and the only signs are for Sacramento, Walnut Creek or Pleasanton. Where is this crazy thing taking me? 
I’m on the phone with Josh, telling him that I’m crazy lost and the GPS he bought for me is possessed. He tells me I need to zoom out to see where I’m going and then select the right place on the map and go there. He doesn’t understand that I don’t get maps. At. All. Even after looking at these map pictures and drawing all over them, I only slightly understand where I was/am. Being in my head and driving around is like one big surprise after another. I imagine where I’m going and then I come upon a landmark and realize the picture I had in my head is totally reversed and I’m heading exactly opposite of where I thought I was.
I may have started screeching that I couldn’t zoom out because I had the phone in one hand, was trying to drive with the other hand, and couldn’t pull over because I was on the freeway, but he couldn’t hear me because it was chaos in the car with all the kids trying to tell me where to go. 

Oh, and the Lulu’s? It was one that I had marked when we first arrived — when a friend drove me around the island and pointed out landmarks. Too bad this Lulu’s was nowhere near where I needed to be. But we got there, pulled over and told the GPS to take me to the airport since that’s near where my friend was stranded. She did her job and got us back on track and we eventually made it to rescue my poor melting friend.


All 6 kids crammed in the backseat and we went to find a gas station.

They didn’t have any gas cans so they pulled some empty water bottles out of the trash and filled them with gas. They rinsed them out with gas first (swished it around and poured it on the ground) to make sure they were “clean.” 

Did you know gas was bright pink? I didn’t either.  

The first bottle had a crack in it and started to leak so they had to use a different one. 

Ospreys flying overhead! I’ve never seen one in person before — these were really low because they were coming in to land. (They are the jet/helicopter hybrid planes)


A crush of kids in the back seat. 5 kids in a space for 2 since Camille was in her car seat. 


Pink fuel!

After our rescue mission we didn’t end up making it to the SPCA that day. Instead we went to lunch with Josh on base and we cooled off for a while in the base movie theater. We still plan on getting a dog this weekend. After getting a dog I’ll probably be too busy to go anywhere, but at least I won’t get lost every day. Yesterday after running errands I pressed the ‘Home’ button on the GPS and couldn’t figure out why she was taking me this crazy roundabout way home. I finally got tired of driving in the exact opposite direction of where I thought we needed to go so I stopped to see what she was doing. She was, in fact, taking me home. To Oman. 

A little princess?

Birthday presents have been pouring in this week for our 2 year old. And from the contents of the packages, everyone thinks she wants to be a princess. They would be right. 


This floral tutu with a matching headband.

The cutest satellite dish ever. 

 

And Tinkerbell with her very own wings!

And dolly Tink — twinsies. 

More flowery dresses — never mind the mess of cherry juice on her face.

She may be girly on the outside, but underneath her skirts, she’s ready for a brawl (wearing the boys’ boxer briefs). 

She’s also a cheerleader, but not the kind with pom-poms. Watching the US Olympic swimming finals with her brothers, cheering on the Americans. She’s quite a nice mix of flowery and brutish. I think we’ll keep her. 

Al Bandar

So far, Bahrain has been quite unattractive in the looks department (I won’t say “ugly,” but that’s what I’m thinking). I’m not going to say I don’t like it here, but sights like these aren’t going to win any awards in the beauty department. 

The Shias are mad so they burn tires and graffiti all over their own neighborhoods. It totally reminds me of the Oakland (or LA) riots. If you’re angry that you’re being screwed over by the ruling powers, why are you jacking up where you live?! Ooh, I really showed them by scribbling profanities all over my house . . . 

My understanding is that the ruling class is the Sunni minority and the majority of the country is made up of Shia. They are poor and underrepresented in the government. Their attempt at a revolution failed last year, but they continue to protest in the evenings and on the weekends. 
All that to say that aside from our trip out to the sandbar, I haven’t seen anything in Bahrain to rival what we saw daily in Muscat. But now I have a place to escape: Al Bandar Resort. I didn’t want to go, because it was way down on some other part of the island, but it turns out that “way down there” was only 20 minutes away. I guess this island is smaller than it seems. 
It costs about $12 for adults and $7.50 for kids, but it’s worth it to be able to eat and drink by the pool during daylight hours. There’s a huge pool that wraps around like one you’d see in Vegas with a swim up bar (though alcohol is banned everywhere on the island during the month of Ramadan). Only 3 more weeks and I can stop talking about Ramadan. 
I keep saying the water here is so warm, like a bathtub . . . I can’t explain it properly. All I can say is the ocean water in Bahrain and the pool water at the resort have ruined me for anywhere else. Normal people would probably find it too warm — I have never met a pool that was too warm. These temperatures are my sweet spot. 

 

 
  
 

She loves the water, but she’s still really cautious and insists on holding on to Daddy’s hand (or Mommy’s or Calvin’s) while swimming. 

Beyond the pool is a private beach and lagoon that is fed from the (very warm) ocean. Maybe someday we’ll come down here and spend the night in one of the huts along the water. 

It was a perfect afternoon and evening of swimming, eating dinner poolside, and playing. 
   
 

The boys spent hours hunting for crabs
 

Fisherman’s pose

Herding a crab — trying not to get pinched

Success!