Feel It Turn

Sitting about 7 miles over the little island of Newfoundland, I’m writing the finale post for the Ananda of Arabia blog. The title comes from a song that I last heard in early June when my British Airways jetliner leapt from the tarmac into a cool summer evening sky wrapping the Logan airport. The song comes from a eccentric group of guys from the land seven miles below who call themselves Great Big Sea.

Their song, which I’ll play again once we’re in the skies over Boston, is about change.

Over what now feels like an endless summer, I’ve catalogued run-ins with Bahraini clubbers, military officers of multiple nations, manual transmissions, and some real donkeys (both figurative and literal). Throughout these musings I’ve tried to give you a sense of the differences out here, and draw some insight from those differences.

Many of my posts have dealt with the laziness, bureaucracy, and lack of discipline that often define business in this part of the world. I’ve also strongly condemned the treatment of foreign laborers here, and the bizarre over-reliance on those people to take care of anything unpleasant.

It is especially difficult to feel compassion for people who deliberately and knowingly treat others unfairly. I’ve been working at a company that’s trying to bring better internet connectivity to the Middle East and Africa. There were days in the middle of my work, I’d think about the state of women’s rights in Saudi, how the UAE sent national troops to disband a foreign workers’ strike in Dubai, or how Rajiv, the man who serves tea in our office, was punched for stepping outside during prayer time in Riyadh. Thinking about these things, I couldn’t help but say to myself, “these people don’t deserve the internet!”

Before you write me off as a silly American who can’t see value in other cultures, please note that I was extremely impressed with the level of professionalism and dedication I saw in Africa both in the private sector, and among the members of government we met.

Still, regardless of whether the ultra conservatives who stand in the way of women’s and labor rights deserve the internet, or would even use the internet, it’s important to remember that connectivity to others is what promotes change. The great leaps forward in human progress stem from contact between cultures. The Dark Ages in Europe came to an end through contact with the Middle East and South Asia from the Crusades. The cities in the US that embody innovation and growth are cities like San Francisco and New York which feature denizens from every corner of the globe. It is the contact and exchange of ideas between cultures and people that drive positive change.

Leaving the land of dates, sand and palms, I actually have great hope for the region. Capitalism is hell bent on growth, and the best chances for growth are in places that have been lagging behind so far. Like untapped goldmines, the Middle East and Africa will be the great transformative regions in our lifetimes, and economic development will bring with it social change. When I’m able to look past annoyance and frustration, and focus on the reality of the potential in the Middle East, I can just barely start to feel it turn.

Signing off until the next great adventure,

Ananda of Arabia

Welcome to the good life

It feels like Nairobi

It feels like Jo’ burg

It feels like Arusha

After two months in the Middle East, the crisp air of an African winter is more than refreshing, it’s the good life.

This was my first trip to Africa, and I predict the “dark continent” will soon be getting its fair share of light. South Africa is a beautiful country with really friendly people. You can’t buy a pack of gum in the store without hearing the ever present greeting “Howzit?” With cheap real estate and a wonderful climate, the only blemish is an unusually high rate of crime that keeps houses and buildings barricaded behind electrified razor wires and tight security. We met up with our fellow Sloanie, Rahul, and he added that there is still unfortunately a great deal of racial tension in the country with generations that still recall the oppressive rule of apartheid, as well as many whites who are disenchanted by the aggressive affirmative action style policies of Black Economic Empowerment that try to redress earlier economic oppression by the apartheid regime.

Regardless, our time in South Africa went by exceedingly well split between meetings with potential investors and clients, and an evening spent hanging out with Rahul for dinner and drinks near the university part of town.

We took off for a 4 day safari after our time in S. Africa, and I’ll let the photos speak for themselves…

Stream that feeds into Lake Manyara

Older Giraffe in Lake Manyara

Elephant in the Ngorongoro Crater

Hippos in the Ngorongoro Crater

Sleepy lion cubs

A Mother Leopard

Zebras on the rim of the Ngorongoro Crater

Male lion cub

A line of very angry water buffalo

A Blue Monkey

Sunset on the Serengetti Plains

Following the safari were a whirlwind of meetings with Members of Parliament and Ministry Secretaries in East Africa. Heading now north along the east coast of Africa, on our way to Bahrain, and soon back to the United States, I recall the Swahili toast our guide on the Serengeti taught us, Maesha Massouri, “To the good life!”

You Ain't Nothing but a Hootchie Mama!

The other day, Ketan and I were circling around for parking at the mall, and spotted a very attractive 20-something Arab woman walking by in a low-cut tight-fitting top and ass-hugging jeans. To highlight the effect of her provocative attire she walked with a hip-swinging strut that would make J-lo proud. Now you don't see this everyday in Bahrain, so it necessitated an appreciative look from us both. Coming from the other direction was another Arab woman, this one around 30-something wearing a full abaya (black robe), black headscarf, and a pair of trendy sunglasses.

The second woman stared up and down at the first one, and though her lips did not move, you could hear what she was thinking clear as a bell… "What a slut."

[FYI, the picture is a stock photo. No, I didn’t take a photo of the woman!]

So you obviously need not be a writer for Vogue to see that there is a definite dichotomy in fashion here in Bahrain between the women who wear trendy, even sexy, western attire, and those that wear the same clothes- but just under an abaya.

This is not the case across the causeway in neighboring Saudi Arabia. It is law in Saudi that women must wear an abaya in public and have at least a headscarf on. Women can be heckled for simply uncovering their faces in public. Even the act of a woman entering a restaurant without the company of a man can invite taunts and insults. [NYT article that covers this here]

Many advocates for traditional clothing argue that these traditions help to protect women from the objectification they face so readily in the west. This argument has some merit, and I believe that for the most part women anywhere in the world should be free to wear whatever types of covering they see fit. The laws in French schools banning headscarves is simple xenophobia under the guise of a separation of Church and State.

Still, there is something about covering someone's face with or without their consent that gives me pause. Humans are wired to connect by looking at someone's face. Why is that you can recognize an acquaintance’s face in a crowd, but might have trouble immediately identifying your baggage from similar items in the carousel at the airport? It's in great part because our brains have an area of circuitry specifically devoted to recognizing faces.

How can you fight the objectification of women by covering the very thing that we use most to recognize our family and loved ones?

If it can even be considered a problem, the laws and social constructs requiring women to be covered are easily the least of a Saudi woman's concerns. It’s common knowledge that Saudi women are not legally permitted to drive in the Kingdom. Some argue that this is not a problem because some women there have stated that they prefer to have men chauffer them around anyway. Well, these women are from the relative elite in the country, who can afford a chauffeur to provide such a service. Others less fortunate are limited in their mobility and ability to contribute to the nation's economy. We’ve heard in the office that the sentiment is beginning to change in regards to women driving in Saudi, but the movement faces many logistical problems. Allowing women drivers will require a separate women police force to police those drivers. A woman cannot be made to show her face to a male officer—making the issuance of a speeding ticket a bit of a problem.

Woman all around the world face serious issues of discrimination and violence. The heart of the problem in Saudi and other parts of the Middle East is two-fold, first, Saudi law clearly institutionalizes the subjugation of women, and this leads to the second factor where public awareness of issues facing women is easily stifled.

In a Saudi court, the testimony of a man is equivalent to that of two women. You can imagine how this might make the prosecution of a rape difficult. It’s easy to guess as to whether the cases of domestic violence and rape in the country are over or under reported.

A senior executive in my company is a Saudi woman. She has over 20 years of professional experience and holds an MBA from a top program. All of this is completely irrelevant to the following facts:

- She cannot leave the country without the signed affirmation of one of her male relatives.
- She cannot check into a hotel in Saudi without a male member of her family.
- When she arrives at the airport in Saudi, she must be picked up by a male relative.
- If she were to go through divorce proceedings she would have to represented by her husband.
- In order to bring her children out of the country, she requires their father’s permission.

In the US many women suffer from diseases such as anorexia that can be greatly attributed to the objectification of women and an unhealthy obsession with body image in our culture. We have rap lyrics like, “You ain’t nothing but a hootchie mama,” and many others that might sound humorous, but in some ways do demean women. We have violent crimes enacted against women like elsewhere in the world. And we have women who face professional discrimination despite stellar work performance. All the criticism I have toward certain countries in the Middle East in regards to women’s rights is with the understanding that the whole world has its work cut out to fight toward ideals of justice and equality.

There are men and women in Saudi Arabia who understand this. The current head of the House of Saud, King Abdullah, has pursued a gradual liberalization in the Kingdom against conservatives in the royal family who are closer aligned to hard line Wahhabi clerics. With over 50 percent of the population under 21 years of age, only time will tell if Saudi's upcoming generation will continue along the gradual path of liberalization set by their leader, or will fall back toward a radicalization that will inspire even more scathing journal entries in the years to come.

You'se a dumb motherf*cker, won't you back that Ass up?

You better back that ass up. When you find yourself on the trails of Petra you better check yo self and yo donkey, else you might necessitate regulation from AofA and Ketan B.

If you are anywhere near the Middle East, I highly recommend visiting both the Wadi Rum desert and the ancient city of Petra, described as a "a rose-red city half as old as time." But with Petra, visit early in the morning. Ketan and I visited both early in the morning- when it was beautiful, and also in the afternoon- when the place is invaded by hordes of overweight European tourists and the poor donkeys that carry them.

You think Americans are the only ones with an obesity epidemic?? Come to Petra and talk to the poor donkeys. To see Petra you need to walk around quite a bit, and this has borne an industry of convenience where entrepreneurial young Jordanians employ the labor of donkeys to cart around fat tourists. Hey, it's employment for some locals, feeds the donkeys, and tourists get to see more of the place.

The only issue I have is when a god damn donkey jockey can't keep his donkey in check. So Ketan and I were walking down a steep narrow trail coming down from the High Temple, when this local guy on a donkey comes barreling down the trail from out of nowhere. Now, this was not a tourist, but one of the donkey owners who's trying to sell rides to the tourists. Ketan and I jump out of the way on to a rock, and barely avoid getting bum rushed by a sizable donkey and its large rider. Naturally Ketan and I are a bit pissed about our near collision with an unfriendly ass, but the donkey and rider are far down the trail in a whirl of dust.

As we walk to the next switchback in the trail, we pass by a number of locals and we see the same idiot on his donkey riding in tight circles and whipping the shit out of the poor dumb animal with a thick folded metal coat hanger. Now, I'm no card caring member of PETA, but this is just plain mean. As we walk closer the dude almost runs into us again, and this time KetanB has clearly had enough. He casually shoves our mounted foe and demands angrily, "What the hell are you doing?"

A bit more shouting and we get the idiot's attention.

Idiot: "What vhat, What is dee prollem?"

Ketan: "You almost hit us coming down the trail, you're beating that god damn animal without any result, and you almost ran into us again right now!"

Idiot:"What? It is my ass, what can I do?"

Ananda: "Control your damn ass, that's what you can do!! "

More dismissive comments from the rider, and he almost runs into Ketan again. Now he's gone and done it- KetanB is seriously pissed.

"Why don't you get off your donkey, let's see what happens."

The man on the donkey is now afraid.

"Come on, get off your donkey, and let's see what happens."

Even I'm beginning to wonder, "Shit, what happens when he gets off his donkey?" I mean is Ketan going to hit him? I was pretty annoyed, but I wasn't really ready to throw down over a donkey, though I was, of course, ready to back up KetanB. So… fortunately Ketan wasn't looking to go fisticuffs over an incident with an ass , but he was definitely willing to stand his ground regardless of whether this douche was riding on a donkey.

At this point the moron's extended family arrives on the scene, and they are very concerned as to why these two tourists are yelling at their semi-retarded cousin who's still spinning around on an ass.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?"

"This idiot here almost ran us over while riding down the trail."

The extended family shoots a dirty look over to the village idiot who promptly apologizes to us. Not being One Republic we found the apology to be timely enough, and continued down the trail.

Now, overall we could not have been more impressed with the people of Jordan, but like I mentioned earlier, it's best you control your donkey when riding in the canyons of Petra.

Snow on the Sahara

The Bedouin people are renowned throughout the world for their kindness to strangers. It is the Bedouin way that a guest will be offered the very best a family has to offer in terms of food and water. This tradition evolved from the very harshness of the desert; without relying on others' hospitality, a traveler could never hope to cross the treacherous expanses of desert that the Bedouin call home.

The modern day deluge of tourists has made living up to these time honored traditions something of a challenge, but the Bedouin people in Wadi Rum are still without a doubt some of the nicest people I've met while traveling. As is customary, our guide took Ketan and I to a Bedouin tent where we were served a local, and delicious, sweet tea made with desert mint. As I walked into the tent I noticed that our guide did not remove his sandals, and I was unsure if I should remove my shoes, so I asked him.

He replied, "It is not for us to say whether you should remove your shoes or not, such matters are not at all important, all that is our important is that you are our guest, and that you should be comfortable."

I have never witnessed such humble hospitality.

We had dinner that night in another tent, and afterwards were free to place our mattresses where we liked to sleep under the sky. Our guide joked, "Tonight you stay at a 1 million star hotel." He could not have been more right. We were lucky enough to be there on a moonless night, and the starscape above was something beyond imagination. The sky was a scattering of fresh fallen snow on a carpet of black velvet . You could see our very own Milky Way Galaxy strewn out just above the horizon, but instead of a whitish haze you could see shapes and forms almost like clouds made of stars in the sky.

I barely slept that night, but spent most of it staring up at the sky and listening to the sound of quarreling desert foxes in the distance.

Chase This Light With Me

Today's blog title comes from a fairly recent Jimmy Eat World song, that you can check out here:

Jimmy Eat World - Chase This Light

So, one of the most important things for a photographer is light. The light can make or break a photo. Deserts have amazing light in the evening and early morning, and Wadi Rum is no exception. So with these photos from the desert and Petra, I invite you to chase this light with me…

Dawn's light on windswept desert floor in Wadi Rum

Mid-Afternoon sun on rock formations in Wadi Rum

Late evening light on wind carved sandstone

Photographer's shadow cast by sunset

The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, Wadi Rum

The canyon floor in Petra

Early morning riders in the Canyon of Petra

The narrow path leading to the temple known as "Al Siq"

The famous view of the temple through the canyon walls

Nabotean Temple of Petra

Praan

This photo is a still from one of the latest and greatest viral videos on the internet of some dude named Matt doing his little jig in seemingly every different country on the planet. He's even dancing in Wadi Rum! The famed desert of Lawrence of Arabia, and where Ketan and I travelled last weekend.

Check out the video here: www.wherethehellismatt.com (it will surely put a smile on your face)

I'm borrowing today's blog title from the song that plays during this video called Praan sung by Palbasha Siddique, a Bangladeshi born teenager from Minnesota who's become an overnight sensation (amazon.com top ten downloads). The song lyrics are from a poem by Rabindranath Tagore, and yes, it's sung in my native language, Bengali. The title Praan translates to "life."

You can download the song here: https://www.yousendit.com/download/TTdHRGx3TXZEa1ZjR0E9PQ

(if you like it, be sure to buy it on Amazon.com downloads to support a new artist!)

Our three day trip to explore neighboring Jordan really brought me back to life, by providing a much needed break from the office and the tiny island of Bahrain. Throughout our trip we were blown away by the hospitality and courtesy of the Jordanian people; whatever Jordan lacks in oil compared to Bahrain and Saudi, it makes up ten-fold in the warmth of its citizens. This was evident even with the ever-present airport taxi drivers trying to hustle a passenger-- upon being turned down would end each conversation with "Welcome to Jordan."

Our rental car was the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen. We had burned CDs for the long car rides awaiting us to find that the thing had only a tape deck. The car was reminiscent of a Yugo in size but drank gas like a Hummer. The one saving grace is that it was a manual transmission, which meant that I would have the chance to learn to drive stick!

What's that? Lame you say that I don't know how to drive stick? Well I do now, (sort of), and I ask how many of you learned how to drive stick while driving at night in a foreign country through a secure military zone? Ah yes, that brings me back to how nice the Jordanians are… the US armed forces are without doubt the greatest concentration of military might the world has ever seen, but I'm afraid to say that the Jordanians have us beat on pure politeness.

An impromptu trip to the Dead Sea late in the afternoon brought us to our destination in the dead of night. "No worries, we'll just find a spot to pull over and take a quick dip." We were eager to experience the salt filled water that makes you so buoyant that you float like a cork. With Islam's holy symbol, a crescent moon, floating on the horizon it seemed like an auspicious time to go float in the sliver of salty water that separates Jordan from Israel. We pulled over at the side of the road in a turnout, and were soon approached by a truck with its headlights right on us… out steps a middle aged man in full military uniform.

Ketan and I: [roll down the window of our car with a collective look of "oh shit" on our faces]

Military guy: Why have you stopped?

Ketan: "Oh we're just deciding where to go."

Military guy: "eh… you cannot stop here, this is a secure military zone."

Ketan and I: Profusely apologizing through gesture and words and saying, "Sorry sorry, we'll leave, we'll leave."

Military guy: "No…. It's ok… you can stay, but eh… just leave very soon, and welcome to Jordan!"

We thanked him and left immediately.

Like I said, these guys are the nicest military ever. Can you freaking imagine the converse of this situation??? Two Arab dudes pulling over in a secure military zone in the US not speaking a lick of English- they would be in Guantanamo Bay getting their balls shocked before you can say George W. Bush.

The encounters with armed Jordanian soldiers and police continued-- increasing in hilarity thanks to some grand miscommunication. At another checkpoint we were stopped by a Jordanian police officer, who was again very friendly…

Cop: "Something something something" [in Arabic]

Us: "Sorry, we only speak English"

Cop: "Ah, welcome to Jordan, passports please."

Us: [Hand over passports]

Cop: [looks at them and hands them back] "Uh… please… step out of the car."

Us: "God help us." [Ketan starts to unbuckle his seat belt.]

Now at this point Ketan is driving, so I'm thinking if they're going to pull him out of the car and do Lord knows what to him, I'd prefer to at least be outside so I can provide eye witness testimony. So I look over to the cop, and ask while gesturing to myself and outside, "Me too?" A look of great concern washes over the cop's face and he waves his hands frantically, "No no no! Paper of the car, Paper of the car!!"

Thank God. He wanted the insurance papers, but when we heard "paper of the car" we had collectively seen enough episodes of 24 to have heard in our minds, "step out of the car."

My favorite encounter was with a jovial young soldier holding an assault rifle with his buddies behind him manning a truck-mounted 50 caliber machine gun. This guy had to be one of the friendliest we encountered. He initially spoke to us in Arabic, then asked us where we were from, welcomed us to Jordan, laughed a bit, paused, and then said…

Soldier: "You must, uh… you must give me… the password."

Us: "Ahh, ha ha ha, yes, the password, of course, ha ha." *nudge nudge wink wink*

[The both of us are sort of nervously laughing and then Ketan in a fit of genius comes up with a password.]

He lookes at the guard and says, "Yes, the password, ok, uh… Insha'Allah." Now, I'm a bit nervous with joking around with any password that references God Almighty, but I say nothing and maintain a stupid looking grin on my face.

The guard looks plainly confused. He stares at us again, "Passports. Passports."

The man had said, "you must give me the passport," and Ketan had responded , "God willing!"

Luckily the man just took us for imbeciles and let us on our merry way.

Hey, sandy, Baby I got your Money Don’t you worry

Show me the money!!! I love Arab people!!!

Money here is the Bahraini Dinar (BD), and it’s broken into “fils” which I affectionately call “falafels.” I just have this great mental image of an old lady reaching into her purse to pull out a few fried garbanzo balls to pay for a newspaper.

Before flying out here, my company gave me a 100 falafel, ahem, fils coin for the pay phone. When I first got here, I tried to make a call and the phone ate my damn coin.

I withdrew some BD at the ATM and went promptly to the Dairy Queen to get change (yes the Dairy Queen establishment has a healthy presence in this kingdom). I handed over 2 BD to get two coins just in case.

The lady looks back annoyed, “We don’t have that much change.”

I’m thinking, “You’re a freaking Dairy Queen and you don’t have two 100 fils coins?

“Fine, just give me change for one,” and I took back one of the two bills.

She hands over TEN 100 fils coins, leaving me totally confused.

Given that I was expecting only one coin, and that I received 10, I figured there is only an upside to this, so I walked away with a pocketful of coins.

Soon thereafter, I realized that 1 Bahraini Dinar = 1,000 fils. Silly me, but I’ve never come across a currency that’s split to 1,000 instead of 100. If you do know of any others outside the middle east, please do share.

Now the sad part of this story is that after almost 7 weeks of working for this company, the 100 falafels I got for the phone call is the only salary I’ve received.

I was supposed to be paid monthly, but the efficiency of our esteemed accountant, not to mention the entire banking system here, is plainly suspect. The first time around they asked for only my routing and checking number. When I asked if they need a Swift code or other bank info, they said, “Oh no, we do this all of the time, this is all we need.”

Ten days later… transaction declined… AofA’s still yellin’ “Show me the money!”

I call back the accountant, this time provide him with all the bank info and tell him to try it again. I tell him to put it through right away, but he can’t. Our bank is Saudi, and Thursday Friday is their weekend, so the earliest he can do it is Saturday. Saturday Sunday are US banking holidays, and then the shit practically starts all over again.

“So when can expect the funds in my bank?”

“Don’t worry, you should have it next week, Insha’Allah.”

Ah!!! The holy, yet somewhat nefarious, “Insha’Allah!!!”

If you ever hear the word “Insha’Allah” in reference to a deadline, you might as well be waiting for the cows to come home. Insha’Allah literally means “God Willing,” and it can be used in a really nice warm spiritual sort of way. But my experience is that it is often used as a blanket excuse for people’s laziness and incompetence— passing the buck from personal ownership to a higher power. In my time here, I’ve heard “Insha’Allah” regarding the arrival of our rental car, our office cell phones, my paycheck, and Nishi’s visa. All overdue, but doubtfully because of Allah’s will.

Now my salary should be significantly more than the 100 fils for a phone call. My bank account next week should be credited with enough dinars to buy plenty of falafels, Insha’Allah.

Forget ODB, until I get paid, I’m OSB, “Ol’ Sandy Bastard.”

It's getting hot in here so take off your burqa

That is, if you want to get into the clubs. And the fellas can’t be rockin’ the thawb- the traditional white robes men wear in Saudi Arabia and other Persian Gulf countries. The clubs enforce a strict dress code that specifies “no national/local clothing allowed.” And I was really hoping to get to see a bunch of burqa, actually abaya-clad women grinding to Snoop Dogg's "Sensual Seduction."

So Nishi, Julissa, (co-worker and Sloan alum) and I headed to a club on Thursday night- the big party night in Bahrain given the Friday/Saturday weekend. Ketan's been out in Cairo auditioning to be the next Pharaoh. The club was kind of an ex-pat hang out, but there were still quite a few locals (mostly guys) out as well. Overall we had a great time out, but the DJ has got to be one of the worst DJs I’ve ever experienced. His transitions were about as complex as stopping one song and switching to the next one, and every 2 and ½ minutes you’d hear him yap into the mic in this God awful faux Euro-trash accent “Eaaawhatuupintake night’s being flow!!” “Easternwindhills are up and down canteflas out like this one eh?” God knows what he was saying… but the words were all English. I tried to help him out by loudly suggesting he “shut up!” from the corner, but he declined my kind advice.

This might sound ridiculous, but one of my concerns coming out here was what it would be like to be an Indian guy out in the club. Given that 50% of the menial labor here is Indian (the other half Filipino), I had this image of these rich Bahraini and Saudi guys coming out to the clubs and handing me their empty drinks. Maybe I would pick up a tip or two? I realize now that I have nothing to be worried about. The locals at bars and clubs are really nice. Even if someone so much as lightly bumps you they’ll place a hand on your shoulder in way of apology. Upon learning that I’m American, a Bahraini guy actually insisted that I cut in front of him in line at the bar, stating “please, you are my guest.”

The experience might be a bit different for ex-pat women here, but at least the other night no local guys approached either of my friends. One US Naval officer asked quite politely if Julissa was my girlfriend. I explained that she’s a friend, but that she’s engaged. I found out that the guy was from LA and that he’d been stationed in Bahrain for two years. His parting words “No offense asking you about your friend dude, it’s just that it’s pretty rough out here as far as women go.”

Yup, two years seems like an awfully long time.

Catch Me If I Fall

So, I’ve been titling my blog entries as titles or lyrics of songs. This title is from a great song by Barenaked Ladies. It a song about contrasting social classes in our society. You can download it here (it will come as a zip file): https://download.yousendit.com/8CAF8E21020C7FFB

The other day, I saw two Indian guys in a large platform glide up the other side of the window of our office. A colleague casually remarked, "Yeah those guys have been out there all morning, no idea what the hell they're doing." Seeing them there, I couldn’t help but wonder how it was ever decided who’s inside the window and who’s out?

Imagine ever since you were a young child, you had control of a tremendous amount of money. Anything you didn't want to do, you could always pay someone else to do. This in many ways is the story of Bahrain and its neighboring countries. To be fair, Bahrain has invested much more in education and infrastructure outside of oil than its neighbors, but the feeling that any unpleasant task will be handled by others is pervasive.

At our company, we have an “Office Boy.” His name is Rajiv. He’s, in fact, not a boy, but a thirty-something Indian man here from Kerala. He serves tea, coffee, and water (not from the tap of course) to everyone in the office. He also does the dishes in the break room and wipes down desks and the glass doors. Despite my clear awkwardness, Rajiv brings me a glass of water every morning which I insist on refilling myself throughout the day. This is in stark contrast to my first job out of undergrad where there was a sign prominently posted in the break room “Your mother doesn’t work here, so do your own damn dishes.”

Now Rajiv is a really nice guy, always smiling and helpful, and everyone in the office treats him with the utmost respect despite his absurdly demeaning title. And I imagine if you were to ask Rajiv if he would rather join his south Indian brethren on the numerous construction crews working in the 120 degree heat, his answer would be a resounding “Hell no, but would you like some more water?”

In the end the Indian and Filipino workers here contribute tremendously to their communities back home through remittances. OFW’s (Overseas Filipino Workers) send home over a 1 billion USD a year, that’s over 12 percent of the Philippines GDP. So I don’t really have a problem with the way things are, my only observation is that spending proceeds from oil to fund an army to do anything unpleasant is not a good way to run your country.

If I were to bet on the success of one of two people… the first: a guy from a wealthy family who’s had everything provided and walks around with a sense of entitlement that makes MBAs look humble, or the second guy: a scrappy fighter who grew up in the Bronx, went to public schools, and truly went all out for everything he’s gotten in life— I would without hesitation put my money on the second. The Persian Gulf countries are trying hard to diversify from oil with many grand schemes in the works. From what I can see, the implementation is what is truly lacking, people expect things to fall in place beneath them, and root cause of that entitlement mindset is clear.

If people here can’t change that mentality, then they should be prepared 50 years from now to send their next generation to the Philippines and India to clean pools and fill cups of tea.

Bring Me to Life (with beer)

So Thursday is quite the party night in Bahrain, not because it's a thriving college town where no one has class on Friday, but because the weekend in most Muslim nations is Thursday-Friday or Friday-Saturday. Here in Bahrain, many workers work on Saturday as well. Apparently not all deities take the same day of rest after the hard work of creation.

We ended up at the Sea Shell, a small bar reminiscent of the BHP, but complete with a rocking Filipino cover band nailing songs from "I Will Always Love You" to "November Rain." My favorite part of the night was a pretty good rendition of Evanescence - "Bring Me to Life."

There's something more than surreal about listening to a girl from the Philippines rock out to a song by a Gothic chick from Riverside, in a bar full of people from Britain, east asia, and India. There was a middle aged couple holding hands- a Saudi man in full local regalia and a Filipina woman, two random drunk asian guys who kept standing up and spilling their beers, and a weird American who kept buying beads for the female band members- somebody's got to fund those remittances right?

People from all over the world came to the bar to let loose a bit from their 6-day work week. Filipinos, Indians and others all brought to a desert near the cradle of civilization. Summoned to this hot and sandy place by the power of oil. Don't get me wrong, people are here for construction, for software, for cleaning pools, and for business, but if it wasn't for the oil... the Sea Shell would be a lonely place.

Shut up, just shut up shut up

So nothing really pisses me off more than people talking through a movie. But when you're sitting half way around the world in a foreign culture, you have be more accepting of different social norms, so I wasn't complaining. Still, when Ketan and I sat through the Forbidden Kingdom (movies are a big part of entertainment here, we're not going to be choosey about selection) there were a few guys behind us shouting things at the screen and talking loudly to one another… in a lot of ways I felt like I was back home in Oakland. Still, it's not as bad when you can't understand the language.

The greatest source of comedy wasn't so much the movie, but the fact that one of the dudes behind us would bray like a fucking donkey exactly 3 seconds after something humorous transpired on screen. HEEE HAW HAW!!! God only knows. He went completely ape shit when Jet Li urinated on Jackie Chan (don't ask).

This was not our only exposure to the culture that day. We had lunch earlier in one of the food courts (there's great food in the food courts out here), and after eating we got up to empty our trays in the waste bin. As Ketan and I walked over to the trash receptacles, everyone there gave us these really bewildered looks. In a land where Indians and Filipinos scrub and clean for their day jobs, here were two Indian guys who even as customers were insisting on bussing our own trays. We joked later about the locals looking at us and thinking, "These Indians must have it in their genes to clean, even on their day off they just can't help themselves..."

We really had a field day at the food court that day. Lately, we've had trouble getting a glass of tap water anywhere, and that day at lunch we ordered from a friendly south Indian lady, so we tried our luck. You have to take into account the following conversation took place with a lot of laughing from both parties, so it wasn't as adversarial as it might come across…

"Could we get glasses of tap water?"

*confused look*

"Oh we don't have a tap for water."

"You don't have running water? "

"No, we don't serve it for drinking."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't drink tap water."

"What do you mean? Tap water's fine."

"No no, it's salty."

"It's not salty. Have you tried it? I mean _you personally_ have you ever tried tap water here?"

"No no, I don't drink tap water, you can't drink tap water, it's salty."

Now usually it's the Americans in a foreign land insisting on bottled water, afraid to drink what the locals do, but here it was quite the opposite. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am here to attest, the water in Bahrain tastes fine and dandy right from the tap.

Also, for your viewing pleasure here's a bit of American Arabic fusion cuisine... (you should know that I got yelled at for taking this picture)

Ya gotta get that sand of your shoulder…

Ketan, and our pimped out whip

Now there really is a lot of sand in Bahrain… trees, grass, not so much, but truly- shit loads of sand. The other day my fellow Sloanie and intern, Ketan, and I were forced to park in the sand lot a ways from our office. After a hard working morning, we went back to the car on a mission to find some shawarma. Problem was the lot was packed with cars blocking any decent exits out of the lot. After driving around in the sand and feeling like I was in training to command the next Mars rover we finally got fed up trying to find a way out, so I turned the car around and started to pick up speed.

Ketan looks over, "Dude, you're taking this thing off the curb ?"

"It's a rental, I was a consultant, it's only natural… faster is better for something like this right?"

"Uh, yeah that kinda makes sense."

"Ok."

Pedal to the floor, over a dirt mound, off the curb, and safely on our way to shawarma- gotta love it.

Driving in Bahrain is like driving in Boston, just with more sand, better drivers, and just as many pointless roundabouts.

Then again, you don't see this is Boston. MTV's got nothing on this baby...

I got 99 problems but the heat ain't one

Well, not yet anyway... word on the street is that it will hit 130 degrees. We'll see how smart I am when that K-9 comes.

Enough shouts for Jay-Z and back to me...

I'm out in Bahrain where I'm happy to be

where the chicks are covered and the gas is free (almost)

and where the sand is flying but we're surrounded by sea.

Welcome to my first ever blog, where I'll chronicle the misadventures of my time here in the Persian Gulf and Africa. I'm here working with a small startup company over my summer internship from MIT Sloan.

On the last leg of my flight out here, the pilot announced that the weather in Bahrain was "sandy." Now I don't know about the rest of y'all, but "sandy" to me is the texture of sugar cookies, but I got off the plane I found out pretty quick what he meant. The visibility was probably less than a mile, and I couldn't walk more than a few minutes without sand blowing in my eyes or mouth. It's no great mystery why people here spend so much time in shopping malls.

I arrived here on Sunday night, and avoided my first social faux pas at the office on Monday morning. As I was introduced to the female office secretary (yes they still call them that here) I _did not_ extend my hand to shake hers! And it was a good thing else it likely would've hung out there unshaken like a martini forgotten by Mr. Bond. In the middle east men should not extend a hand when meeting local women, as many women here prefer not to engage in that traditional western greeting.

Well with the sand blowing around and the women and men in their flowing black and white robes, it's clear that I have arrived somewhere truly different. I look forward to keeping you all posted on the trouble I get into and how I worm out of it.

Keep rocking the free world (cuz Lord knows that I'm not),

Ananda of Arabia