After checking another country off of the "Places I Have Been" list I can honestly say that I have no desire to return to Bahrain. It's not that it is dirty or hard to understand the people. In fact things are pretty clean and the people speak fairly good English. The problem is that there is very little to do other than shop and everything is expensive.

The first hint that things are expensive is the money itself. It's not fancy by any means; in fact it rather plain by American standards, but it is worth just a little more than 2.5 times the amount of the dollar. Even the name has a fancy ring to it, the Dinar. You could almost imagine some English prude sticking his nose up when mentioning it. Well, this plain yet expensive cash has corrupted the people, especially the cabbies who have figured out that Americans don't understand the money. Along with these scoundrels of the road are the vendors that will be happy to replace your genuine $30 Timex with a not so authentic $10 Rolex that may or may not fall apart until after you leave port. To be honest the only affordable things I managed to find on the island was water and tickets to the National Museum. This of course is all hearsay; I tell you the story to let you decide yourself.

St. Patrick's day brought us into the "Bell" of Bahrain, known for it's natural bell-like shape. After 11 years of occupation on the small island nation you would think the Navy might have a pier built, but the sailors of carriers and large deck amphibs must wait. Apparently the theory is that water taxi funds come from MWR, not from the base construction and repair fund. Bureaucracy is great, right? So, anchor is set right at noon, right on time amazingly enough, but their is a catch. We have to move 450 yards to the west to allow a tanker to pass that will be departing the following morning. So, after the shortest port call I've ever had (about one hour) we get underway to travel the 450 yards to our new anchorage. For some reason this took almost 2 hours. At least in the delay our logistics folks managed to round up another couple of water taxis to speed the impatient sailors that awaited the end of their 97 day hiatus from land.

Once arriving safely on shore all one had to do to find where to go was follow the crowd. Lines for the money exchange and ATM's were unforgiving, but a necessary evil. The cabs were happy to take American dollars, but without the greatest of exchange rates. To even attempt to negotiate a reasonable price Dinars were mandatory, but even then you were getting screwed. But enough about money, I was on land for the first time in over three months; money was not much of an object.

Since it was St. Patrick's day Mike, my overzealous Scottish-German American buddy, was determined to have the traditional Irish meal of cabbage and corned beef. Fortunately, there was no shortage of choices of Irish bars in Bahrain, so we headed for one of the more reputable ones inside the Diplomat Hotel. Unfortunately, corned beef seemed to be as accessible as it is in Maine (i.e. make your own according to Mike). Since the place was nice we blew a couple Dinar on Kilkennys, a wonderful beer that has yet to make it's debut in the United States. By this point we began to realize that the 40 Dinar we had between us wasn't going to go very far so we hailed another cab to take us to the nearest ATM followed by another Irish bar. A note on ATM's: I have never paid a service charge at a foreign ATM. Why can't the US do this?

The other Irish bar can be found everywhere the Navy goes, at least everywhere the Navy has been that anyone knows about. Murphy's Irish Pub is a winner anywhere you go. Bahrain of course has to make things fancy and call their Murphy's "JJ's Irish Pub" which threw off the hundreds of Sailors that were there that night. The full name of Murphy's is JJ Murphy's, but very (and I do mean very) few people know this. The odd part came when acquiring as to where we were. No one that worked in the bar or the hotel that it was built in could point at a dot and say "Here." Everyone we talked with would make big circles over the other side of the island before we pointed to where the base was. Then they just stared at the map for a little while longer before shaking their heads in confusion. Mike and I convinced half a dozen people that somewhere was a real Murphy's that was going broke because all the cabbies decided that this was the real one. Dinner consisted of fish and chips for Mike and a decent beef stew for me. Over the course of the evening nearly everyone we worked with that were not on watch managed to make their way by our table for a bit of conversation. They would have stayed at their own table had they arrived early enough to get one. By 8:00 both floors of the place were packed and getting served in less than 15 minutes was nothing short of a miracle.

The night ended early since Mike and I both had to work the next day and 12 hours with a hangover, trying to pay a good deal more attention than usual, can prove difficult at best. By 10:30 we were back on the road to base with two of our coworkers that managed to consume considerably more than we had seen despite our early arrival. The cab of course (do I have to mention it?) over charged.

I will intentionally avoid reciting the second day mostly because I can't talk about it. However, I did manage to convince Mike to work an odd schedule to maximize on sleep for both of us which paid off in the long run.

Day three started early by vacation standards which was fine considering I had just finished my last 4 hours of watch and Mike has to be awake for turnover. We started off with a quick bite at the Burger King on base and proceeded to be grossly overcharged for a ride to the mall. This was even more annoying in that the cabbie complained about how we didn't learn about the language and culture of the countries we visited and felt that we, yes we, were abusing our privileges of being able to visit such a great country. This same cabbie also swore that we were going to the "newest, biggest, best, and greatest" mall in Bahrain. If it was truly all these things I feel very sorry for the Bahraini people. The mall wasn't that big and I have been in better. It did appear newer than the mall next door which made our cab fair seem a little more justified. One thing was certain though, everything was expensive and nothing was worth buying. After an hour of wandering aimlessly through the two malls (getting lost in the split levels and curving hallways of the older mall) we found another cab for a ride to the zouk.

For those unfamiliar with zouks, think downtown markets. Lots and lots of stores that all sell the same thing, all claiming to have better stuff, and all easily interchangeable in price. Shortly after our arrival we met with the one Canadian we work with and his liberty buddy. They had walked the 4 1/2 miles to the zouk for the soul satisfaction of not having to pay a cab. In the early morning this would have almost been reasonable, but as the day progressed stepping out of the shade became unbearable. Gold and silver are cheap items in Bahrain as with most Middle Eastern countries since it is sold by weight rather than craftsmanship (unless you are not Arab). Still, relative to the US it is inexpensive.

I quickly found the only two items I desired, a puzzle ring to replace my old one which has been cracked in three places for at least 2 months and a silver Air Warfare pin for my uniform. The man who sold me my ring was clearly not happy that I managed to talk him down to less than half of his original asking price. He was doubly irritated that he had to go to another vendor to negotiate for a ring that would fit. I'm sure he made out on the deal all the same. Arabic thinkers developed the principles of basic algebra, but the culture seemed to have lost the ability to add and subtract when Islam became the dominant religion. Quickly subtract 17 from 24 and you get 9, right? That's what I convinced the young vendor that I bought my Air Warfare pin from. It all came down to a lack of change and a lot of confusion. Mike was buying a couple of pins for himself and paid with 15 Dinar. I had a 20 and some one's, but not the required total of 9. Seeing how much the poor guy fumbled when making change for Mike I quickly saw the chance to baffle the man and cut 2 Dinar off the cost of my purchase. Somehow the man actually verified it with a calculator and agreed. In the States I would be arrested for committing such an act. I felt it was justifying the cost of the cab.

After running into a few more of our co-worker Mike and I split up in the three story building and managed to lose each other immediately. After haggling with another couple vendors I searched high and low for Mike with no avail. I was contemplating how I was going to explain to my supervisor how my buddy bailed on me over a bottle of Snapple Ice Tea when Mike wandered down from some mysterious shop that I had somehow overlooked at least three times. My fears of abandonment now past everything was closing down for prayer time and we had to leave. We retraced our steps through the zouk, bargaining briefly for sun glasses and a polo shirt, before things pretty much died. A once bustling area was almost vacant even though it was only a little after 1:30. Feeling hot and hungry we headed for a hotel for lunch and to kill 2 hours before the nation went back to work.

The Regency isn't the best hotel in Bahrain, but the Clipper Bar inside is one of the poshest public bars I have seen, bordering on a country club. We sat down and enjoyed a couple beers, grilled cheese sandwiches with the crust cut off, and Cuban cigars. We talked of the cruise so far while watching the 2001 Best Pool Tricks on the big screen. A few other Americans came and went and after 2 hours we returned to the zouk to pick up a ring that Mike had to have resized.

Dinner came early at the Hard Rock and we managed to run into some of the same people we had run into hours earlier. I watched with amusement as a Long Island Ice Tea was brought to Mitch, one of our more conservative co-workers, in place of his rum and Coke. This had actually happened a couple of times apparently and I watched as it happened once more afterwards. When I asked Mitch when the last time he had stood up he replied, "Oh, about two hours," like it was nothing. He still doesn't exactly remember getting back to the ship. Mike and I were baffled by the definitions of the food on the menu versus what we actually received. I ordered a Cajun Chicken sandwich that came closer to a chicken club. At least I got chicken, I have heard of worse mistakes in foreign ports. The night clipped by with a few more beers, talk of everything from wine (which we had later) to the cabbie that challenged our culture, and finished with a cup of coffee that was just warm enough if you drank it immediately.

Somehow we negotiated a fair price with the cab driver to get us back to the base for the night which was good considering our intoxication. Once arriving on base, however, I immediately sobered up forcefully by having to play a security guard. To many pushy, groveling, even drunker than I sailors were even more pushy, groveling, and irritated that a liberty boat was not immediately available for their departure. For over an hour I pretended to be enough in charge that people actually believed me and settled down or at least settled into a place in line. I had done my good deed for the day likely saving a few people from having their ID's taken or worse. Back on board the boat we found our work center over manned and very talkative, mostly with intoxicated liberty-goers, including a few that worked in other spaces. We all chatted for about an hour before finally separating to our separate berthings and beds for a much needed sleep.

Our last day in Bahrain started with the announcement of cleaning stations on board the ship. No one seemed to be cleaning so I took a shower before waking Mike to say it was time to go. I should have learned by now that I should be the last one to start to get ready. Even if I start at the same time I always finish first. Mike fought off a slight hangover as he got ready and I waited. When we reached the hangar bay I realized how bad my mistake of not waking him earlier had been. We waited for an hour and a half before being ushered off the ship onto an overfull tugboat they were using as a liberty barge. Once reaching shore we quickly moved past the crowd to get a cab before the masses arrived. Being our last day we decided to take things easy and spend as little money as possible.

A museum is a great cheap thrill and an easy way to waste a few hours. We walked through the history, arts, and culture of Bahrain. For a country that has been inhabited almost since the beginning of civilization there really isn't much to say about it. The National Museum is supposed to be their equivalent of the Smithsonian, except it only has nine galleries, one of which only covers the grave sites of a former culture. I can say that the ancient Arabs had a sense of humor when it gave to burial. They believed for some time that the body should be returned to the world in much the same way it came into the world. Adult bodies would be crammed into impossibly small containers in the fetal position before being laid into their final resting place. Most of the museum had English translations, but the "Important Documents" room was pretty much a waste. None of the documents were translated, so, all I could discern was the difference between the text of the document and the signatures. The museum confirmed my one feeling for the Arab culture. Before Islam came into being the society was more creative, harder working, and perhaps even more intelligent.

At least once per port visit I must walk a very long way for no apparent reason just to prove that I can use a map and survive an entourage of honking cabs. Mike and I walked from the museum to an area affectionately known as Swarma Alley, a distance of roughly three and a half miles as the crow flies. This route took us through the heart of Manama (the capital of Bahrain) by many mosques and, of course, the King's Palace. As it turns out the king had recently declared himself king and no longer an Emirate, the title held by the leaders while Bahrain remained under British rule. It was a nice trek under the sweltering sun. By the time we reached Swarma Alley all we wanted was water, a quick bite to eat, and a cab back to base. Under more favorable weather (such as that of the three previous days) we might have been a bit more adventurous. Dinner consisted of an odd tasting meat that was supposed to be beef with a curry sauce instead of the barbeque sauce we were expecting. The water was so refreshing we stopped off for desert of ice cream before grabbing the only honest cab in Bahrain.

As we rode back to base the cabbie seemed intently concerned in our state of being. We were a bit crisp from the sun and still recovering from our rapid re-hydration. When we arrived at base he flatly refused a tip even though he charged far less than any other taxi we had used. I learned later that 35 such taxis exist in Bahrain. If you ever go for a visit remember to look up the Radio Meter Taxi company. It will save you a fortune in cab fare.

In all my trip to Bahrain was not a bad one. It allowed me to forget, temporarily, that our nation is at war against many enemies that are not well defined. While ashore my only concerns were getting to where I wanted to go and doing whatever I supposed I was to do while there. I enjoyed the semi-normal food of a slowly Westernizing country, the humor brought in attempting to translate the Arabic dialect, and the reprieve from too many hours pacing on the same fifth of a mile ship for nearly 100 days. This trip will hopefully bring more like it, if not in Bahrain then elsewhere. The pleasure is almost worth the expense.