April Showers Brings May Flowers?

Perhaps you can't tell from the picture, but it is oppressively hot as well as engulfed in a sandstorm in the 'hood

I smell it in the air.  I taste it in my mouth.  It swirls around my feet... Yes, I just woke up this Monday morning to another sandstorm... Fortunately FaceBook Oracle told me all about it in advance as many friends in UAE & Saudi were already posting about the impending arrival here of another sandstorm. Thus meaning that I managed to close all windows before the storm hit... I don't usually manage to do that so I feel I'm already winning.  This year we've been getting hit by quite a few.  I don't remember this happening last year- at least with this frequency and intensity.

Speaking of intensity... I'm headed to the Formula One races this weekend here in Zallaq!  Again this year a friend is working the circuit so giving up his tickets to us :)  Again this year I do not have binoculars... Fortunately they are pretty decent seats situated above and near the 1st bend in the track. We saw some good action last year from those seats.  Not that the races themselves isn't thrilling enough, but the people watching is equally entertaining.  I mean, you see jewel-encrusted people there.  You see thobes with diamond cuff-links.  You see abayas dripping in Swarovsky crystals.  You also see a lot of normal looking peeps too... You will also see Starr, Dot and myself!  Hopefully the sandstorm session will be over.  Did I mention that Pitbull will be djing?  I'm looking forward to that as I'm a kinda-fan...

Last Thursday- that was the day. That was the day that the weather 'broke'. It was a definite feeling of the rise of temperature.  It seemingly went from high 70s to high 90s overnight. Everybody noticed it and talked of it.  I held off with the air conditioning until Saturday evening... Now, though, air con will be a constant I fear.  This is how the rest of my time in the Middle East will be spent- going from one air con environment to another air con environment, etc.

I managed to get back in my yoga routine at BaYoga. Just going inside that humble yoga shala makes me realize how much I will miss it.  It's such an easy vibe and no one is there to babble about yoga, etc.  Everyone is just into their practice, and then they leave.  Although, this past week I noticed some new people and a few in particular kept talking.  There is a point in class where there is kind of a little break and our teacher walks around and gives us adjustments, etc. Usually if you opt out, or don't take them, you just sit in meditation or Child's Pose, etc.  These girls decided it was time to talk-story as if they were at a cafe or something.  I don't know, but I thought it was incredibly rude.  Perhaps they just don't understand that yoga isn't simply an 'exercise' but a deepening of development to quiet the mind, as well as the body.  I let it temporarily affect me, but then I decided that I needed to become unaware of it and just let it go.  I guess I decided to turn the situation into a lesson for myself in my own personal development of quieting my own mind! 

I am amazed though as Friday morning class is always full, but on Saturday mornings sometimes I'm the only one or there is one other person.  This Saturday there was another guy and myself. I always enjoy this class as instruction is so personalized.  I hadn't seen him before, but he looks like he will be a regular and is pretty dedicated to his practice. Our teacher had us strike up some rather complex asanas that took some mental/physical preparations to gear up for.  At one point my mind tried to take over.  I said, "Abelish I can't do this pose today", as I fell over. He did not falter for a moment.  He simply waited (signaling me that I was going to try again) and casually said something to the effect of, "Yes you can.  Don't tell yourself you can't."  What happened next?  I nailed the asana- right before I tilted over again!  It was Pigeon Pose variation(s) that looked like this:

It's amazing how one's mind can control one's body.  You don't even realize it and live your life like this.  I'm being dramatic, but to express my point.  It just hit home for me that my mind was resisting what my body could fully do, and I don't know why.  I don't know why both my mind and body weren't working in unison to bring me happiness.  Why did it take someone else to tell ME I could do it?  Well, that is a cerebral question with a cerebral answer... The lesson (re)learned is that you can do a lot, but you have to train your mind.  This is what a lot of people don't realize about yoga.  You are training your mind as well as your body.  It is discipline.  It is intense.  It is light-hearted.  It is the union of body and mind- yoga.

I  remember being burnt out on yoga a few years back- when I was still back home on Maui.  It wasn't the practice, but the perception of yoga that was starting to annoy me.  I kept hearing in many different classes with different instructors stuff like, "Keep it yummy" or "Doesn't that feel delicious", etc.  There was always this talk of 'heart-felt', etc.  I mean, yes okay but do we have to talk about it.  we KNOW it.  I just felt like so much superficial talking was going on.  I just wanted to deepen my practice and to do it in a group setting.  There was only one instructor that gave me this peace of mind where I could just be.  I could drown out all sounds and have my practice. This was at the House of Yoga and Zen.  Perhaps it's because of the nature of Ashtanga Yoga itself in that it is a specific routine that one flows though holding each pose for only 5 seconds.  You flow so fluidly that there is no time to let the mind wander, in my humble opinion.  As well, there is a way to channel one's energy into the body and give up the mind.  There simply isn't enough time for the mind and body to communicate together (meaning that the mind has no time to try to convince the body that something can't be accomplished).  I don't know, but it was at this point that I realized I needed to explore a deeper practice on my own.  I say this because I could not practice Ashtanga every day- as is needed with that branch of yoga- because I was always up early and working archaeology jobs on construction sites so couldn't make the 7am classes.  I could only make Sunday morning classes. 

That was also about the time that I moved to Tunisia so my practice had to go 'underground' so to speak.  Same thing as when I moved to Southeast Turkey.  I had to develop my own home practice, which is not an easy thing to do.  I still battle with it, and am fortunate enough here in Bahrain to have access to some great yoga classes.  It is freeing.  It is liberating.  I really missed the interaction of open classes- even though we are not necessarily interacting with each other during practice. At one point yesterday morning the teacher was adjusting Spencer and I was watching how he was adjusting (every yoga teacher is always fascinated with how another teacher gives adjustments) him.  We both caught eyes briefly and it was just a pleasant exchange.  That is all.  He was nailing the pose and I was excited and he was feeling elated I could tell.  It was just a tiny moment of sharing something together yet totally separate.

My friend Angie had friends visiting from North Carolina this past week so they had a full fun-packed schedule of events that I tagged along with for some.  Probably the highlight though was finding Farheen- an Indian woman originally from Bombay that lives here and does a kick-ass job of henna application, as well as teach yoga!  I'll check out her yoga classes soon enough, but I am really impressed with her henna designs.  She does it at her house and is just a wonderful person with a sweet vibe.  There were 5 of us so it was a full evening of henna, food and talk-story.  My kinda evening indeed.

Here I am at my beach after yoga class on Saturday reading my book.  Yes, I'm the only person 'on the beach' in terms of a towel on the sand... A beach culture Bahrain is not!!!

a traditional Bahraini-weaved basket I got from a cool old man at the Capital Mall Artisan Collective.  He gave me a bunch of freshly-picked sprigs of basil.  Smelled delightful! Oh, also my beloved Alfonso Mangoes- which are to-die-for

I'll end with some other pictures of various hoods in Bahrain that I frequent and find fascinating

This is towards South Sehla. This hood holds lots of "BBQs"

This is in Al Hajer.  I go through here to take a short-cut to get back on the freeway when I want to avoid Budaiya Highway

The pet store where I get catfood is nearby to here

On the way to Starr's villa- in Al Hajer village.  I really like this village

an unfinished mosque in Al Hajer.  It seems work was stopped on it a few years ago, right after work started on it...

By the way, April showers are non-existent here in the Middle East...

2014: Let it go effortlessly & bring in 2015 gracefully

I'm not one to look back.  I focus forward.  I'm on a trajectory, to where (spatially) I know not. Yoga is my cocoon. What I transform into, I have an idea.  I go forward with this. I like the metamorphosis. I like shedding. I want to dig deeper into this universe, and that means to burrow deeper into my psyche.

It all came to me in yoga class yesterday. I moved through the postures and it was so exquisite that I was left nearly breathless. In a world that is becoming increasingly difficult, in terms of strife, conflict and ego, I find it peaceful to be able to check all that baggage at the front door of the yoga studio.  Yes, it can even happen here in Bahrain.

This place... is such a dichotomy. There is something that weighs heavy on my heart currently: The politics of labor here.  The politics of pomp and circumstance.  I am white.  I have a blue passport.  I am privileged.  It is apparent every single day here. I don't forget it.  I can't forget it. Every public space I enter into here is constantly darkened when a worker addresses me by, "Madam." There are a lot of Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, and Filipino workers here (many more as well, but the most populous).  They have to address me this way.  It makes me sick.  Of the personal relationships I cultivate, it starts by forcing people to see me as simply 'Holly.'

Recently a yoga teacher called me 'madam' and I was shocked.  A yoga teacher is sensei.    A yoga teacher generates respect and gratitude and a sense of knowledge possessed that a practicing yogini or yogi wishes to attain.   I was silently screaming because we are both a product of our host culture, in which we, sometimes robotically fall into our expected personas.  I was screaming silently because I take for granted that I can shed that expected persona.  A true first-world problem to whine over certainly (and whine I did with red wine afterwords last night).

Another observation of mine includes for the task of adjustments during yoga class and the dilemma of male-female roles in this society.  A few weeks ago in class I observed that only the males in class were getting adjustments (from a male instructor).  As I was longingly looking at the glorious adjustment taking place on the mat next to me, it obviously showed on my face.  My teacher, bless him, looked me straight in the eye and asked if I wanted an adjustment.  I know I lit up at that moment. 

I don't know how else to describe my thoughts here on the subject.  I am grateful to practice yoga here in a traditional environment in a class that is not segregated- as all other yoga classes here are that I've found so far. Why do these issues persist in society?  Well it is a rhetorical question because I know the (my) answer.  Most all reading this blog know the answer.  We all remain silent on it though as it is barely tolerable and approachable subject matter.  For reasons I can't exactly share without a lot of painful back-peddling.

My freedom. My freedom to live a life where this isn't an issue is indeed an onus to contemplate over here where matters are more complicated. Maybe, though, I am looking at this from such an ingrained culture-bound angle that I can't see what is actually in front of me?

What do I do with this white privilege that lets me glide in/out of scenes in the Kingdom 'under the radar' so to speak?  I'm not complaining.  I'm contemplating.  I contemplate that as a western female, I 'get away with things here' that many can't pull off. My actions are simply shrugged off as permissible or tolerable because 'I'm not from here.'

Anyway, this is me. January 1st, 2015 2 6:30 am. I'm supposed to be in yoga class right now, but I decided to let the Gin/Tonics from last evening digest a bit more and attend 10 am class instead. Besides, it is chilly here in the Kingdom- 17º C (63F) and the kitties are snuggled inside my blanket purring.

Another year begins and im`ma just keep pondering and penning... namaste

The power of a fading memory to be re-birthed every year

Sliding into my 2nd week back here in the Middle Eastern sandbox and I'm feeling at home, again. I feel I'm fairly acclimated- so much that I can tell that the weather this September is slightly 'cooler' than last September... By cooler I mean 100º F instead of 110º F on a daily basis...

It helps to just jump back into life where you left off, which I have.  Work started up immediately. Ladies who Lunch started up immediately. The running club started up immediately. My glorious trips to Lulu Hypermart started up immediately. Cussing while driving started up immediately, etc.

Also, vacation planning started up immediately.  Within one week of boots on the ground in Bahrain, I had myself a round-trip ticket to Nepal for next month's Eid holiday :)  Who would have thought? So, yes, my return to the desert has been smooth. Even the jet lag isn't terribly inconvenient. Of course, the kitties make everything better at home, even though Sami Bey must be kept away from all fabric... He has the jaws of fashion-death- or the saliva of fashion death more appropriately.

As I lay in bed typing my thoughts though, I am reminded of 9/11.  I was reading some posts from friends in America and it occurred to me that it was 9/11 yesterday... It escaped me. I knew it was there in the back of my mind, but distance distracts. Actually, as I work out the math right now, it still is 9/11 in America (Friday 7:30am here = Thursday evening 6:30 pm in Hawaii).

It got me to thinking more about it as I read more memorial postings online. It's fascinating for me because this is a collective American 'soil' experience (of course this is a collective worldwide experience), that I didn't experience on American 'soil.' I was traveling in the Sahara Desert at the time. I was in Merzouga, Morocco. My singular experience (I was the only American where I was) was of ... detachment I guess is a decent word to use.  I couldn't fathom the intensity of the situation at that point. Perhaps I was in shock and that absorbed my emotional turbulence.

What I recall was that the day passed in a slow-motion Ken Burns-effect kinda way. It was so surreal. I wanted to go out into the desert and ponder life, but here I was in this situation where my hosts (North African Tuareg Berbers) wanted to shelter me and keep me comforted.  They were so raw and honest in their manner with me. They kept me in their open-air style living area where there was a tv broadcasting the news (just outside was a large satellite dish). I was receiving the news before any of my friends back in Hawaii did as they were still sleeping. I was in a room of strangers- except my travel companions (Christian the German, and 'Yo' the Korean kinda drag queen) that I had met weeks earlier on a ferry boat traveling from Algeciras, Spain to Tangier, Morocco.

These so called 'strangers' wormed their way into my mind and heart.  I kept thinking that I didn't need comforting.  I just wanted to be 'normal', yet they kept insisting that I open my heart to their desire to heal me. At some point I could no longer object.  I gave in to their nurturing ways.  I felt like a fledgling that got left behind by the rest of the pack. They hovered over me like a pack of vultures and showered me with food and tea!  They gave me space.  They asked me questions. They wanted to know if I needed to get a ride into the nearest village to find an internet cafe so I could let my family know I was safe.  I had to laugh as I thought to myself, "This is the safest place in the world to be right now. Certainly safer than America presently."

Morning turned into afternoon turned into evening.  There was a constant flow of traffic throughout the day.  Perhaps everybody had heard that there was an American at the hostel, I'm not sure.  People came and sat in the living space with us.  We were all huddled together.  Even the women were with us. The children were running all around unaffected by the televised chaos.

Some men took it upon themselves to start packing my carpet up that I had just purchased days before nearby. They suggested that it would be better to pack it out with me when I left, instead of sending it off at the post office. I remember very clearly one man that spoke English said to me, "This is not us. We are not terrorists. People are people. Governments are governments." He looked me hard in the eye.  I understood. He knew I understood.

As nighttime descended, I remember going up to the roof and staring at the stars. Just staring into space, thinking. Trying to think of what the sentiment of America was in those moments. Obviously I had an idea, but...

The German (a flying doctor) came back into the camp that night. He was heading out in the morning. Would he give us a lift to the nearest town/bus station? Of course.  He had a Landcruiser and looked like an aging Lawrence of Arabia, wearing a traditional Tuareg Shesh (blue cloth turban). What ensued was an amazing all-day journey through dusty roads with tracks (no 'road lanes' per say as there was no road). Many stops at wells to take water- always checking for snakes hiding underneath rocks first.  The landscape was so soothing.  It was a moving picture show. We were driving so fast actually with only occasional passings of other cars in various states of needing repairs, camels, donkey carts, etc. At every pit-stop came a collective of children swarming the Toyota wanting pens, watches, coins, anything. The day played out like a symphony that I was partially following on a conscious level. I remember we stopped at some point at this ritzy hotel and had tea. We were all dusty. It didn't matter.  The German was someone of importance that everybody in the country seemed to know. I thought back to  a week earlier when he took me out into the desert one night deep in the sand dunes so we could just chat and watch the stars. I'll always remember that night.  We were enveloped in the dunes.  We  walked to their crests and rolled down.  We were children. We had no worries in the world.

...And then just like that the Toyota drove out of our lives.  We 3 stood outside the ritzy hotel waving goodbye to The German. We collected our belongings and walked down the street to the bus station.

What time is it anyway? It's time to leave the Islands and head back to the Middle East. That's what time it is...

5 hour flight from Maui-LAX
4 hour layover
6 hour flight from LAX-DC
8 hour layover
13 hour flight from DC-Kuwait City
1 hour layover
1 hour flight from Kuwait City-Bahrain
11 time zones passed and 13 hours ahead of Hawaii...

I slipped back into the country rather easily, except that my flight from DC to Kuwait was delayed 3 hours due to the starter not working for the right engine, so I couldn't pick up my car when I got to Bahrain because it was after 11pm.  Hopped into a taxi and headed to StarVilla, where Sheika Spot and Sami Bey had been summering with the other kitties and Spanky, the silly dog. What to do? It's 1 am and not a creature is stirring in Sar it seems.  The night air was thick and still, trying to suffocate me. I saw my reflection in the pool. THE POOL! Moments later I was splashing around in glee. An unexpected Bewitching Hour skinny-dipping session.  The water felt so cool to my sun-kissed skin. After a summer back home in Hawaii this felt so normal, yet I felt a bit exposed.  The only animals watching were the neighborhood cats high up on their perches. The impending jet-lag somehow buffered my sudden coquettish-ness... No one was around but myself eavesdropping onto the nightly chatter of insects and animals.  A nice way to re-enter Bahrain I suppose.

The kitties. Oh those naughty kitties. They were so animated when I saw them.  I spotted Sami Bey first.  He was on the stairs looking down at the mysterious creature that somehow seemed a familiar scent I suppose. Shaika immediately started talking to me, as she does. Sami Bey stood around in silent wonder, as he does.  He looked like he was plotting something positively dastardly, as he is prone to do... Somehow I managed to doze off at a fairly decent hour- meaning that the sun hadn't yet risen...

Twas not a lengthy slumber though.  The forces that be in the pantheon of jet-lag gods/goddesses made sure I was up in no time.  The sun had already risen, yet was still behind the villa so I, rather modestly, donned my bikini and jumped back in the pool.  One by one, all the villa kitties came out to greet me. I must have been lazing in the Ez-boy pool chair for a few hours before any Homo Sapiens' came out to greet me.

Now in full jet-lag mode, Starrberry Delight and I shared a cuppa joe and caught up on our summer shenanigans.  She bike toured through parts of Ireland and France and I, well you all already know what I was up to... Sarahkins decided we should all meet up for lunch for our ongoing "Ladies Who Lunch" lunch series.  Quick thinking on her part as I knew I was going down soon into the never never land of jet-lag lethargy. Driving around left me observing familiar sights as if I remembered them from a parallel universe that I was once absorbed in.  I know it has only been 2 months since I left Bahrain, but it was always like a dream- living here in the Middle East. It was like a dream that wasn't mine, but became mine.

Soon enough, I had my car, packed the kitties and headed off home.  Home, of course, hadn't been aired out for 2 months.  Home was full of dust and pent up angry heat. Thank goodness I remembered to change the sheets and cover up my bed before I left because I made a mad dash to my bed- my headquarters here in the Middle East :) My bed is like my island within an island.  It is my lifeboat when I need saving. As well, the air conditioner in the bedroom is the most powerful one in my apartment so there's that...

The kitties were busy remembering their lives here.  They were searching around for lost toys and smelling new developments since we all departed in July. It was all I could do to unpack and slightly clean up the place. This consisted of taking Clorox wipes and going around all the floors with them attached to my slippers. Not the most impressive cleaning job, but it gets the job done with minimal impact on my agitated frame of mind. Feeling fairly impressed with myself, I simply laid on the couch underneath the air conditioner and gulped the 1 bottle of water and 1 bottle of Gatorade that I managed to leave behind knowing that I would probably not be able to grab more when I returned in September... Smarty pants I am.

Three days later and minimal jet-lag lingering effects, I can say that the impact of jet-lag is lessened considerably when one does not partake in adult beverages on the airplane.  I experimented with this hypothesis when I left Bahrain, and sure enough, when I reached Hawaii I wasn't in too bad of shape. Last year... Last year I  managed to drink copious amounts of libations both on the plane and in the airport during my long layovers... Last year I spent 5 days on Katie-girl's couch watching 3 seasons of Game of Thrones while nursing my jet-lag.  So, my hypothesis is correct- always a ego-boosting feeling indeed! I managed to get to work within 35 hours after touching down on Bahraini soil :) Winning.

I'm almost 'normal' (wouldn't that be something) with my sleeping schedule.  I pass out at 9pm, walk up at 2am and it is now 7am and will pass out again right now until about 10am, and then race to work.  Good thing this week is just a 'filler' week with nothing much required of us except light conversation and re-acquainting ourselves with course materials, etc.

Bahrain- herstory of a community: A`ali

Post-run euphoria.  Every day that I run is a good day.  I mean a really good day.  I can't express enough how much I really appreciate the community running track here in A`ali.  I feel so fortunate to be a part of this community.  I guess I am what is called a 'fringe-dweller' here in that... well, I'm just about the only American that lives in this hood it seems!

A`ali is just a typical neighborhood on island.  I guess most expats are lured into living downtown Manama where the city life is in full swing- as well as traffic jams.  Me, I've always liked living just off the beaten path.  Most locals are a bit... shocked (I guess is a good word to use,)when I tell them I live in A`ali.  Let's just keep it at that, but when I explain what I love about this area, they seem to get it. I'm not exactly deep in the hood here, but it is unique enough, and I do somewhat feel a part of the community.

It feels good to go to the local Lulu Hypermarket and that the meats section guys know me.  They always give me tips now on what is the best seller of the day at the Indian food counter, etc. It feels good to go to the produce section and talk story with the girls that weigh/tag my produce.  We talk about all sorts of things from how crazy it is to pay so much money for avocados, coconuts and bananas when they fall off trees practically in Hawaii, and the Philippines (where the 2 main girls are from).  They laugh and their eyes get so wide when I cry out that 4 BD is too much money to pay for 3 avocados. I've finally convinced them to stop calling me 'ma`am.'

 It feels good that the Lulu check-out people all know me and know that I always have my own shopper recycle bags that I carry with me. Whenever there is a new bagger guy and they instinctively reach for the plastic, the checker always says to them, 'oh no she has her own bags.' I always proudly announce at that point that in Hawaii plastic bags are banned EVERYWHERE.  This seems to be met with shock from everybody.  Seems a shame actually.  Now the bagger guys know me enough to stop going to get a cart for me so as to carry my groceries out to my car in.  They are still amazed that a women will just up and carry 3 heavy bags.

The gym I go to, at Al Areen, has a community spirit as well.  I've got my own little set-up going there- which is easy to do because not many people are ever there when I'm there.  When I step through the doors, the front desk girls always know to turn on the sauna and steam rooms so they will be hot in 1 hours time.  The fitness guy, Mort, is usually roaming around the building offering me tips.  Most times he has a client and so we all chat together intermittently on fitness elements.  They talk about wishing to do yoga and I comment on wanting more free weight work. It is always a pleasant exchange. The place is pretty big and I always have the entire upstairs room to myself  to do my yoga routine.  As well, the area is a great place to run.  There is no crazy traffic nearby.  There is a bit of construction work going on, but my main concern is cars.  Imma just say it and get it over with: most people don't have good driving habits here... There, done. Next...

The highlight, the real highlight though of my existence here in Bahrain is the A`ali Walking Track in my hood.  I simply adore this place.  This is community.  This is the heart of the matter! I still have yet to have a conversation with anyone there, mostly due to me running when I'm there.  I suspect it has a lot to do with just me being different perhaps.  I just mean to say that there are some cultural norms here and that I have to accept those.  This is, of course, a generalization and there are stories within stories- as with everything.

What makes me feel so good though is that everybody is there just doing their thing.  Everybody is there for their health.  Some families bring their children and walk with them, or roller-blade, etc. Most are holding their cell phones, or talking on them.  There are quite a few groups of men or women walking together.  There are always people in the center on the monkey bars and doing calisthenics.  I have to admit, though, that I am the only person doing yoga there.  I always try to find a tree or somewhere out of the way to do so as I don't really wish to stick out so much.  

I have 2 favorite restaurants thus far: Ric's Kountry Kitchen (diner in Juffair) and Pan Asia in Adliya.  I really don't go out to eat much so I know there is much to explore in this area.  If I could afford sushi, I would frequent those spots but as it is I'm here on a grant and there is not much money left over to enjoy the high life. I have my occasional splurges but I generally cook at home.  As well, most the food I buy is organic, and that is a pretty penny to spend here, as elsewhere in the world.  It's shocking what I pay for yogurt with live acidophilus cultures. There are organic stores on island, but you are definitely paying for it.  My favorite, Nature Valley, is next to Xerox downtown.  The first Saturday of the month the man gives a 10% discount on food so I always show up at that time so I can buy my Ezekiel seed bread and black licorice, etc. I'm almost embarrassed to say it but 3 loaves of the Ezekiel bread is 15BD (40 US$). Now, that would cost $24 back home in Hawaii but still... Ugh. It hurts being a conscious eater... Hurts so good I suppose :)

My wish list? Okay, here goes: I would like to find a beach community here!  I desperately need to get hooked up with this.  I mean, what's an island girl to do? This is a pickle: living on an island that has (nearly) no beaches... So, if anyone has any ideas on how to deal with this, please do divulge!  There is this resort I want to check out, but it comes with a price- as does all the other 'beaches.' Alas...

More wishes: more volunteering on archaeology digs here. Bahrain's history, or prehistory, when it was known as Dilmun, is just fascinating.  I've actually met quite a few old timers with stories to tell.  This is magical as these meetings are quite random.  I had 2 such last month at the monthly Bab al Bahrain festivities.  My new incense seller guy just happened to have a picture in his phone of his father posing with a Danish archaeologist in the 1950's. It was incredible.  I showed him the pictures in my phone of the site I volunteered at this past season, the A`ali Royal Burial Mounds.  It was an incredible moment for both of us- 2 complete strangers, yet linked.  I love this.  Earlier in that evening, at another shop, another old timer was talking to me and he mentioned that every day there is an old man that comes to the coffee shop directly across from his shop and he is a historian.  And then my incense guy separately told me the same thing not 1 hour later!  So, back I go to Bab al Bahrain this Saturday evening for my MEPI coffeetalk (this week we are discussing Bahrain history) where we and indulge in local legends and oral histories.  I must say that I do really enjoy this place!

To sum up, life is good.  I'm happy, healthy and moving forward in life all the while looking back to the past.  Last but not least, if any Bahraini's know of a good tailor, I'm looking to get some things made. Drop me a note if you can.

Girl Thunder, Boy Wonder- aka Shaika Spot and Sami Bey

Transformation time.  My intentions with this transcend my life as well as the current weather that has hit the Kingdom.  Yes folks, it's warm over here.  I mean, really warm.  With 2 weeks left of 'winter' still, I don't hold high hopes for a mild spring...

I've known this has been coming as the signs were all too obvious: I have not run in the mid-morning or mid-afternoon for 2 weeks now (never mind I've had out of town company and haven't felt like running during those hours).  Two nights in a row now I haven't had as much as a sarong for cover while sleeping.  This morning I had to *gasp* turn the fan on in the bedroom while drinking my coffee and perusing the morning news. Yesterday, while driving through downtown MADNESS, I had to turn on the air con- on low only though. I wouldn't allow myself to increase the setting- that is reserved for April, May, June... Each month I will allow myself to increase 1 setting only... I hate air con.

Lastly, I've been observing the Lounge Lizards for the past 2 days- Shaika Spot and Sami Bey, formerly known as Girl Thunder and Boy Wonder up until 2 days ago when the weather started heating up.  Now they look like medicinal leeches sucking up the blood from the couch...Very cute, irresistible leeches mind you. Soon enough I'll, apparently, have to leave the house with the air con on for the critters.

Other modified behaviors of theirs consist of sleeping on the tile floors, as well as sleeping in the bathroom sink.  Shaika Spot is already obsessed with water and jumps onto the tub to watch.  Sami Bey, following suit, became interested too.  He, not being as agile as his step-sister, can be clumsy and fall into the shower occasionally- while it's on!  He's becoming a bit of a water-boy though, thus making his older step-sister Shaika Spot quite proud.

Okay shutting down shop now so... bye

Putting a new spring in my mix- ROAR

It's been a while since my last post, and it is a glorious morning in bed with coffee and kitty kats so... here we go.  Time to play catch-up.  On the subject of coffee though, I finally ran out of my coveted Anthony's Maui Coffee... That was a good 5-month run.  Now I am forced to return back to Starbuck's.  At least I can purchase it at the NEX here at the same price as US$.

 So, the French Roast isn't bad at all actually.  I've finally figured out how to deal with French Roast coffee.  You just don't need as much as usual for your french press or drip thingy, etc.  Only in the last week have I figured this out.  Paired with some almond/pralene/hazelnut milk and some coconut sugar... it's pretty darn tasty in my book.  Perhaps this has inspired me to post.

Or perhaps it's because I've learned a few things this past week about running here in the desert as well that I feel like sharing.  These things range from podcasts used to run; sports headphones; and how to run in the desert.  The last is important enough because it's heating up here.  It was a blissful 4 months of running here.  Sometimes I even had to wear longsleeves.  Only 2 weeks ago I donned my beanie as well for a late afternoon run... Gasp, right? Well, that was short-lived for sure.  I'm back to my baseball caps.

So first, podcasts.  I've done some research a fair bit on this.  I'm not usually a runner that carries an iPod.  It's just not my style- or wasn't.  I can't even remember now what I used to do when not listening to music!  Did I just listen to my breathing?  Perhaps I counted trees, or light posts, or some landmark where I decided I could run to and then stop.  I don't know.  What I do know is that my typical run is right next to my apartment at the A`ali Running Track. Yes, it is brick I know, but apparently my knees are used to it now so... Anyway, running around a (1 kilometer) track can be dull for sure so I suppose this is how I took up running with music.

Even in SE Turkey I ran on a (clay or some other softer type of material) track, but I wasn't ready to accept running with music. I think the real determining factor was running on the treadmill (dreadmill) at the gym.  This is a new addition to my life as sometimes it is so hot outside that you can't run out in the heat.  I'm too much of a wimp to really devote my pre-dawn time to getting out of my cozy bed to go for a run.  Perhaps that might change in the coming months when it gets unbearable again outside.

I have tried before I recall, but there was always the problem of ear buds falling out and then you have to run and mess with that shit. This, of course, messes up breathing (at last mine), and so back went my iPod into hibernation yet again.  Another issue was what to listen to when running.  I just wasn't up to speed on any of it.  But now...

Two weeks ago I was at the NEX (Navy Exchange, where I have privileges to shop). This comes in handy for all sorts of things; US magazines (Vanity Fair, National Geographic, Women's Running) that won't set you back a load of money because it's all in US$ normal prices; sports shoes that also are priced the same.  As well, you get the bonus of knowing that they are not knock-offs- which many are here in the region.  This was more of a problem in Turkey I suppose.  But no matter, if you buy western running shoes, etc, they are going to be hugely expensive if they are the real deal.  Even the beloved Converse can be acquired for a mere $40, as opposed to $120 in Turkey...

But I digress... The point being that it is so convenient to stop on base as things are cheap.  Since I don't make money in the local Bahraini Dinar, this makes things even more convenient.  My last useless mention that has nothing to do with the originally intended commentary is that I can also eat at Taco Bell...

So the story continues, I was at NEX and looking at ear buds.  I decided to finally believe in the sports buds that have the wrap-around thingy that goes around your ear with the speaker firmly implanted inside your ear.   The first time I put them in and BAM! Amazing!  I love it when I'm skeptical that something won't work and then I prove myself wrong.  Even the low-tech clip thingy that comes with it so you can clip the wire to your shirt works.  Another concern was always that I had to carry the iPod ( it's not one of those tiny ones) and I thought that would be weird.  Of course I didn't want to purchase an arm band for it for the same reason.  As well, I thought that purchasing all that shit was just being too needy :)

At the same time as this breakthrough, there was also a breakthrough in the running music department as well.  Of course there are all kinds of free podcasts to download for runners with music mixes.  None, that I tried out, seemed to suit me.  Then I discovered Shredz Workout Mix in the iTunes store!  They are all 1 hour mixes and just intuitively seem to know where I'm at in my run.  Workout mix #11 is my favorite right now.  At about 45 minutes, there is a mantra repeated: ENERGY that keeps increasing  in volume and culminates into another high-energy mix.  It is right where it's needed for my run.

This being said, there are so many workout podcasts out there that are tailor made.  One podcast creates mixes for training for a marathon and puts 'gongs' in the song where you stop and walk for a minute, etc.  I mean, they are really tekkie now, which is brilliant.  Another fabulous podcast, that I don't listen to while running because it's not music, is from Ben Greenfield. He's a cool-cat in the sports fitness/nutrition world, as well as an avid Ironman. He has a solid science-based approach to it all and doesn't pull any hoodoo voodoo crap that masses will eat up and get 0 results with.

Those of you that know me know that I always had issues with yoga classes that were too 'hippy-dippy' to put it oddly.  I am a scientist.  I like the geek-speak approach.  Give me 'heart-rate' over 'heart-centered' talk, and you have hooked me.  Don't get me wrong, exercise is a spiritual devotion for me.  In fact, it's the closest thing to this "God-particle" bliss that I have discovered so far.  I've always said that my body is my institute for spiritual enlightening.  My 'church' or place of worship ROCKS!  And as long as it rocks my world, that is just great.

So with all this tekkie stuff I'm using now (don't forget the Timex Run Trainer GPS with heart-rate monitor that I purchased last summer and use devotion-ally, or my minimalist shoes that I switched to), I am like Inspector Gadget when I prepare for my runs.  I've got all this shit to hook up to myself, and it's a fun ritual.  Why is it fun?  Because everything works as it's supposed to.  I mean, I don't go blindly into this stuff.  I did plenty of research in order to obtain all this.

Lastly, and likely most importantly, is how I train now has completely revolutionized my runs here in the desert environment.  I had been struggling for the past 4 months with just getting through 5k runs.  I mean it was just so hot, and my breathing was all wonky, etc.  Concurrently with the tekkie stuff, or a little bit before those additions, I decided to do some research on running in extremely hot environments.  I didn't find much to benefit me, or so I thought, so I decided that I need to switch things up.  My typical run is on the track if I don't want to have to drive somewhere to run.  It's flat. I mean FLAT.  It can be boring like a treadmill, so how to switch up the routine?  SPEED Intervals!

I can't say how much this has improved my overall adaptation to running here, as well as seeing an increase in my casual runs, etc. I feel overall healthier, I can run longer, and I sleep incredibly well now.  I'm up to 10k workouts now.  Here's my latest run recipe:

A 4 km warm-up run (A little more than a warm-up I suppose)
A 1 km fast walk
2 km of 100 m fast interval running (with each 100m separated by a 100m moderately paced walk)
2km of 200 m moderately paced running (again, separated by a 200m more moderately paced walk)
A 1 km walk cool down.

I'm loving my current mix. Spring is in the air certainly!

Okay, that's all folks