Bahrain is the sister to Qatar in many ways. Separated by only eight miles of water at their closest, their respective ruling families are branches of the same Khalifa family tree. Even the flags are identical, except ours is maroon and theirs is red.
We all boarded one of the ten flights per day from Doha to Manama (Bahrain’s only city) and took off. As soon as we were up in the air, the stewardesses literally ran down the aisles passing us drinks and a chicken hot pocket. We had barely even gotten the sandwich wrappers open when the stewardesses ran back down the aisle collecting the trash and cups. Total flight time… 32 minutes.
Even though Bahrain and Qatar are only a stone’s throw apart, they are very different places. Bahrain is an older settlement than Qatar… and without Qatar’s natural gas reserves. Compared to Qatar, Bahrain is relatively poor, which creates a very unique atmosphere that was immediately evident as we left the airport. Our taxi driver was a covered Bahraini woman… unthinkable in Qatar. The entire country is remarkably similar to Doha… only a little older and worn. But besides the aged look, everything seemed to be in its place. There weren't any enormous skyscrapers going up or ostentatious displays of wealth and privilege... and it was nice.
We stayed at the Radisson Blu near the entrance of Manama with Van Gogh and me sharing a room. Within ten minutes we grabbed cabs to our primary destination in Bahrain, and by far its main attraction… Senor Paco’s.
Yes… we all spent the money and tim
e to fly to another country to visit a Tex-Mex restaurant. You see, Bahrain’s ruling family are not Wahabbists… that is, they do not practice a particularly conservative style of Islam that rules the roost in Qatar. They’re a little, or a lot more, relaxed. And because of this… all the restaurants serve pork and booze.Pork and booze… is there anything better?
We arrived around three in the afternoon, just before the restaurant was about to close for afternoon prayers… but that would not deter us. They let us into the courtyard and were assaulted by the adobe colors and mariachi music playing on the speakers. It looked and felt exactly like any madre y padre or taquiera place in San Antonio. Sombreros and horseshoes hung along the walls with maps of Mexico and Texas. It felt like home…
We all ordered chips, salsa, queso con carne, and pork chiquitos, and several pitchers of real, honest-to-God tequila margaritas. Soon after downing our spicy and incredibly authentic food, our waiters came out and gave us all Mexican sombreros to wear during
our lunch. Donning our huge colorful hats, the waiters filled the table with plate after plate of pork enchiladas, pork fajitas, pork spare ribs, pork chimichangas, pork tacos, pork soup, pork tea, pork pork pork, pork…Pork…
Some of us gulped down about a pitcher apiece of margaritas, and attempted to stumble out of Senor Paco’s. We, it turned out, were drunk… in public… in an Islamic country… without any taxis. Feeling quite warm from the tequila, we walked around the neighborhood looking for a main road in which to grab a ride. Nick & Jess remembered that near Senor Paco’s was a particular carpet store where some friends of ours purchase all of their rugs. A quick phone call later, we headed south down a back road to find our elusive carpet store. What we didn’t realize at the time were the “couple of blocks away” that we were told ended up being several kilometers… and we were still very much drunk.
We finally reached the souqs and found the carpet store. Everyone ran inside, packing the tiny store to the brim. The Bahraini owner came out to greet us and offered us all coffee and tea. We eagerly drank down the caffeine, trying desperately not to slur our words or act too tipsy. We failed on both accounts.
We also failed in following the old Middle Eastern proverb of “Never go carpet shopping drunk.” Four hours… we spent four hours perusing carpet after carpet in two different stores looking for just the right color, size, patterns, and knot count. The Indian workers pulled and spread each carpet on the ground until we had layers two feet thick. All of us besides Frodo bought up very nice examples of Persian and Turkish rugs… and spent around $6K…
Remember kids… don’t drink and rug shop…
The owner was so pleased with our business that he loaded us up into his van and drove us back to the hotel. After dumping all the carpets, we changed into our suits and relaxed in the hotel pool with a Thai dinner and drinks afterwards.
The next morning, we all awoke late in the day and quickly decided to visit Bahrain’s second most famous landmark… Ric’s Kountry Kitchen. Yes… it’s another American style restaurant that serves pork… go to hell. When you are denied a fundamental part of your life, say your favorite type or style of food… you tend to go to great lengths to satisfy yourself.
We have a Ric’s in Doha, but alas, no bacon or sausage, and definitely no breakfast mimosas. We took a series of cabs that were mostly elderly Bahraini men driving old Chevrolet Broughams and 88s; I swear one was the same car my elderly Bushi drives to bingo. We delighted ourselves with breakfast burritos, biscuits with sausage gravy, blueberry pancakes, and huge rolling mounds of neatly stacked crispy bacon.
Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel for a little while, and then went off to a local mall to get some supplies. We checked out the local souq area, but were a little disappointed since it was nearly 3pm, and the stores had all closed for the afternoon rest. Our hotel was situated directly across the road from the Bahrain National Museum, so we hiked across and past a spraying fountain to check out the Bahraini attitude towards culture.
Qatar has… for lack of a better phrase… no culture pool. There is nothing in Doha that wasn’t built within the past ten years. There is almost no cultural heritage or historical pride here. Don’t get me wrong, Qatari’s love their country, but only in the modern wealth they can display. They use their money to buy culture… whether it be art or education or museums. Their culture pool is dangerously shallow.
Bahrain, on the other hand, takes enormous pride in their pas
t. The museum was fantastic! A large sculpture garden greeted us at the entrance, and the museum itself was laid out around a large grand hall with the entire country drawn at a massive scale on the floor. The country’s history, lineage, and customs were all displayed with a sincerity and charm we never see in Qatar. One of their coolest exhibits is that Bahrain is home to around 80,000 grave mounds scattered throughout their inland desert. They brought examples of the mounds into the museum and built around them… leaving the skeletons and pottery intact. They had documents displaying their relationship to the British, mannequins wearing the local dress and explaining their daily customs, and an entire area dedicated to the Arabic language and writing. A really fascinating look at their lives…Once we had toured the museum for a few hours, it was time to head out to the airport. We strolled back to the hotel and got ready to leave. After checking out, we stowed our bags and went to the Irish pub in the hotel for a final meal. A dense Yorkshire pudding with bangers and mash for me followed by a dark lager was just what I needed. Several of us were on a 7pm flight, while the rest were booked onto an 11pm flight. We decided to try out luck and all head to the airport around the same time to see if we could get on an earlier flight. After some haranguing at the gate, we were able to board a few hours early, and were back in Doha a mere twenty-nine minutes later.
Another country and plenty of pork to cross off the list…
ben
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