Bahrain looked quite peaceful. A small island nation, protected by innumerable seagulls, scented with a summer ocean breeze. What a wonderful blue sky it was… to be in the middle of February and enjoying the day with 28C and a brilliant sunshine.
sun not shown in photo (ps: photo not by me)
Down below, 4 individuals were frantically looking for a WiFi hotspot.
We had three laptops and 7 cell phones all turned on and seeking the nearest signal. A free signal that is – I learned that Bahrain is notorious for charging people for using the hotspots. After a Starbucks, 3 shawerma places and a breakfast later, we found a free hotspot at Costa.
Everyone opened hotel websites while I attended to more important matters, like checking my email and updating my Facebook status. It was also the first time (that I didn’t block out of memory) that I had a cigar, well a mini one anyway. I looked like a tourist: washed out jeans, black sleeveless Nike sports shirt, brown leather shoes, ruffled hair, a baby cigar and a laptop. The cigar tasted like crap.
perfect italian coffee, brewed in london
I am the very person I make fun of back in Dubai. Karma!
We found some booking in the Radisson SAS Diplomat Suites. I convinced the guys to book already regardless of the price… so we got two suites and we headed there promptly.
Imagine a scene where 4 men of various sizes open the door to the suite and fly inside in slow motion. Now tune up a Viennese Waltz background music, with a flurry of special effects and confetti… Lord… I could hear the sound of people clapping… applauding our splendid performance… oh the perfectness of it all! The heavily-cleaned marble floors… how they seemlessly hug the wall and blend into the dark wood… the stove! Shiny black hotplates with touch controls… complimentary snacks and drinks welcomed us home… we danced into the bathroom… oh dear Lord… this is Divine Heavenly Orgasm… my whole body thrust itself into the luxurious white bathtub, the all-around Grohe taps waiting to be caressed… gushing Clean Water from all directions in 8 different configurations… the shampoo! Bottled and ocean scented with water granules shower gel… oh how it foams and lathers all over you! The soft pamper towels… I longed to be a baby wrapped in them! The bed… wa ma adraka ma the bed! Super King Size Super Delux Turbo Plus, with fresh sheets so white and clean it is a SIN to even touch them! How I rolled myself on the carpet! Oh the TV…
The orchestra stopped… I snapped back to reality. The room’s glamour was gone… all lights faded… nothing seemed important anymore.
It wasn’t an HDTV.
But… I convinced myself… am not here to watch TV!
The music started again and I waltzed onto the bed to take a nap.
At night we went to a sahra. Our clubbing plans have been canceled (thankfully, since I didn’t want to break my record of not going to a club before the age of 25). So we went to a good ol’ traditional Arabic Sahra – which involved belly dancers and one or two singers attempting to put you into a nostalgic trance.
The male singer sounded like a goat. No, not George Wassouf goat. He was a dying goat on drugs giving head to a hippo. Whenever he sang I went out for a cigarette break. I don’t remember how much I smoked, but I do remember giving my friends lectures about smoking when I came back from my smoke breaks. Don’t you love being a hypocrite.
The belly dancer didn’t know how to dance, but she looked gorgeous and that is all what she really needed to sell the show. I don’t remember ever finding any belly dancer attractive but that’s one belly dancer I would have taken back with me to the brothel.
The female singer.. well.. who cares about her inaudible voice? Her mawwal shattered the glasses and sent my eardrums into a tantrum. But she boasted the most perfectly formed cleavage ever. I haven’t seen breasts like those, not live anyway in front of me.
One of the guys on our table – we were a total of ten – was so drunk (two Black Label bottles drunk)… loool you should see how he danced. I bet you he had no idea where he was. We guys kept testing his sense of awareness and he never managed to convince us he wasn’t drunk.
The he decided to prove to us he wasn’t drunk….
By proposing to the female singer.
it was love at first sight
After public humiliation (which he wasn’t aware of) and a late hour we decided to go back to the hotel, and I sank into the bed, taking the image of the cleavage with me, and had happy thoughts till I went back to Dubai the next day.