DOWN TO THE WIRE

Dearest Friends,

Remember the typing classes I mentioned a while back?  Well, oddly enough, those classes became the high point of my days after a while -- which only proves how desperate I was to get out of the house!  If you recall, I was alone in an Arabic speaking neighborhood, with no car, no phone, and none of my personal belongings.  The few expat friends I had made all had jobs already, and the Bahraini women in my hood, if I ever managed to catch them out of the house, were not exactly what you would call chatty.  By mid-June, though, things were starting to look up.

The first excitement was hearing that there was a neat little handicrafts shop deep in the heart of the souk, if you could find it.  Expats couldn't own businesses there, but this one was opened by a British woman who just happened to have a Bahraini husband.  Since I was sick to death of macrame by that point, we immediately went out in search of it.  Not only was I able to stock up on needlepoint supplies, I also found some very "groovy" candle-making kits, and some hooked-yarn pillow kits that looked like shag carpet on steroids.  I remember thinking they were pretty "far out" at the time.  What can I say?  It was the 70s.

My other lifesaver was the American Club.  Slowly but surely I was getting more and more involved in the activities they had to offer there, such as the American Women's Association and all their various meetings and demonstrations, including Mah Jong lessons!  It was hotter 'n hades out by this time, and our neighborhood had frequent power outages.  When I just couldn't take it anymore, I could walk over to the nice cool club and have a coke, check out some books, and call about a few more job possibilities.

Towards the end of June, we finally heard that our shipments were really coming this time.  Unfortunately, they were to arrive right around the same time that they were planning to send John out to work on an offshore platform for a week or two.  I prayed that the shipment would come first, since I wouldn't have a clue how to get it delivered and unpacked without him, and had no way to communicate with anyone at the office!

It showed up on Thursday morning, July 1st, but since that was the beginning of their weekend, it wouldn't clear customs until Saturday morning, and John was to leave that very afternoon!  Can you imagine my frustration?  Fortunately, we had something to distract ourselves with on Friday.  In honor of America's big Bicentennial celebration, both the American Embassy and the American Club had planned all kinds of festivities, from Bingo to barbecues.  But on Saturday we waited...and waited...and waited.  No shipment.  When we could wait no longer, I took John to catch his boat for the hellish trip out to the platform, and did my best to stay cheerful.  I didn't think he really needed to be worrying about me, while he was busy puking his toenails up -- even if I had no earthly idea how I was going to make it through the next two weeks without him.