Two Old Fools - Olé!

by Victoria Twead

  “The school will give us an apartment, and pay for our flights, and medical care. And there are no taxes. We’ll be able to save some money.”

  “No taxis?”

  “Not taxis, no taxes.”

  “But the Middle East is a dangerous place!”

  “Oh no, not the Kingdom of Bahrain. Bahrain is very peaceful and safe. They never have any trouble there.” Famous last words.

  “¡Madre mía! A whole year!”

  “So, would you mind looking after the chickens for us? They still lay eggs occasionally.”

  “No problem at all. Do not worry about them, and Uncle Felix and I will look after your grapevine.”

  “The grapes this year are fantastic, thanks to you. But we won’t be tasting any. They’re not quite ripe and we’ll be gone before they’re ready to eat,” I said.

  “Never mind,” said Carmen-Bethina, putting her arm round my shoulder. “The year will go fast. You will taste next year’s grapes.”

  Buy enough chicken grain for a year. Joe left me packing and drove off to collect three huge sacks of grain, more than enough for six elderly chickens for a year. Another job ticked off.

  Tell our kids, Gin Twins and other friends. Our kids took the news well, accustomed to our globe-trotting adventures. The Gin Twins were surprised. They had already booked flights for their October trip to El Hoyo. We wouldn’t be there, but they decided they’d still come, collecting the keys from Paco when they arrived.

  The news spread round the village like influenza, “Have you heard? The English are going to Arabia!” and we were questioned daily.

  “What is Arabic food like?” asked Mama Ufarte.

  “Will you have to wear a headdress?” asked Lola Ufarte.

  “Why do you have to go away?” asked Twin #1.

  “Will you come back one day?” said Twin #2.

  “Shall I keep all your post for you?” asked Marcia.

  “Do they have soccer teams out there?” asked Geronimo.

  Make house secure for winter. With the memory of the persistent rains of last winter still fresh in our minds, Joe packed sandbags against our doors. We checked all the windows and locks.

  Daryna, the principal of the High School, had been emailing me daily from Bahrain, and her letters were a fascinating glimpse of the life we were about to lead.

  Dear Vicky,

  You will like Manama - it is spotless and a real desert which is sort of beautiful. Get ready for a sauna though - when you walk out it curls your hair and steams the creases out of your clothes. The sheer aridity of the land, the steaminess of the air and the intensity of the heat make the need for air conditioning an absolute necessity. 15 minutes outside and the body is waning.

  Food seems to be quite inexpensive but other things are like Europe - pricey.

  I am being told again and again the kids in this school are hard to motivate and lazy - what can we do to light a fire? Your little darlings in the Middle School probably haven't been corrupted yet by the lassitude. It's so much easier to motivate the little ones - stickers, candies, games all work. The older ones want ...... I don't know what. So we have our work cut out for us.

  How many more sleeps? Tonight, and tomorrow - and hasta la vista baby!

  D.

  Suddenly, it was the night before we were leaving, and Joe and I took a drink up to the roof terrace to watch the sun going down behind the mountains. Gradually the sky tinged pink, salmon and coral, a fantasy backdrop for the countless diving swallows. The mountain tops were lit with fiery hues and the distant sea sparkled with orange embers. Then the sun slipped away, and the swallows disappeared to be replaced by flitting bats.

  The Ufartes were out in force, swirling, hand-clapping and dancing to Papa Ufarte’s guitar. I saw the twins scampering up the street, Fifi leading the way. Their brothers were absent, probably playing football in the square, but Granny Ufarte was dozing in her customary chair.

  When the mosquitos started to bite in earnest, we slipped back indoors. Neither of us had said a word, too lost in our own thoughts.

  At 5 o’clock the next morning, Paco’s fist thumped on our front door.

  “English! Are you ready? Time to go to the airport!”

  We loaded Paco’s Range Rover with our luggage. Carmen-Bethina stood in the street in her bathrobe, curlers in her hair. Bianca wagged her tail and trotted off to sniff lamp-posts.

  “Don’t worry about anything,” said Carmen-Bethina, as we hugged goodbye. “The year will fly past and you will soon be back home in El Hoyo. Oh, and have you heard? That no-good Lola Ufarte has run away with one of the workers from The Monstrosity!”

  “No! Really? With Nicolas the crane operator, I suppose?”

  “No, it was that nice foreman. I heard he left his tools, said nothing to anybody, and just took off!”

  “Good heavens!” I said. “Well, I didn’t expect that!”

  “And still our Sofía has no husband,” mourned Carmen-Bethina.

  “Hey, Sofía may be married by the time we get back!”

  “Pah!” said Paco, slamming his fist down hard on the bonnet of the Range Rover. “That would be a miracle! Now we must go, or you will miss the plane!”

  It was the 21st August 2010. The Arab Spring, a violent, revolutionary wave of protests and uprisings, was poised to erupt and sweep across the Arab world. Bahrain was destined to make world news headlines and we two old fools were heading right smack-bang into the middle of it.

  The story continues in the next book, ‘Two Old Fools on a Camel’.

  Cat Family Update

  Cat Family Update

  News from Germany

  MumCat (now named Calypso):

  An email snippet from one of the German re-homers - “now she is for one week in her new home: the people are SO happy, they say, that they never have had such a lovely cat ! she is coming in the morning into the bed and is going on for a little sleep with her parents ...and she was with them in the garden already, they have a little sea in the garden, she loved it but then she went back with them into the house :o)”

  MumCat in Germany

  Smut and Beauty (now named Milly and Mia):

  The new German owners were afraid that they may be allergic to the sisters, but all was well. Beauty and Smut live together, and judging by the photo, are very happy, settled and spoiled.

  Beauty and Smut in Germany

  Choccy-Paws:

  Chox developed a stomach complaint, but was adopted by a lady who understood such things, her own cat having the same condition. He is doing well and continues to charm everyone he meets.

  Chox in Germany

  So, what happened next?

  Turn the page for a preview of the sequel,

  Two Old Fools on a Camel

  ~ From Spain to Bahrain and back again

  Vicky and Joe leave El Hoyo to work for a year in the Middle East. How could they know that the Arab Spring was poised to erupt, throwing them into violent events that would make world headlines? Teaching Arab kids, working with crazy teachers, forming life-long friendships and being placed under house arrest, Vicky and Joe laugh and lurch through their year in Bahrain.

  With grateful thanks to Nadia Sawalha for the wonderful Arabic recipes.

  (PREVIEW) 1 Footprints in the Sand

  Shawarma

  “Do you think we’ll see camels wandering the streets, like those elephants we saw when we went to Bangkok?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Joe was lost in his own thoughts.

  “Perhaps some of the kids will come to school on camels?”

  “Maybe.”

  We were on the last leg of our journey from Spain to Bahrain. I peered out of the plane’s porthole. Far below us, the sea stretched endlessly, the early morning sun transforming the blue into gold. The Persian Gulf. How exotic!

  We were stopped at Madrid airport and nearly refused permission to board because without the correct visas, we couldn’t enter Bahrain. Deep down I’d w
illed the authorities to send us home to our little Spanish village of El Hoyo. But the airport staff had phoned our Bahraini employers, the American Specialist School, or ASS, and, somehow, the problem melted away. Our journey to the Middle East continued.

  “That’s it!” I squeaked. “I think that’s Bahrain!”

  Joe leaned over me to share my view. As our plane descended, the map-like view of the island below sprang into detail. Skyscrapers, metallic and gleaming, multi-lane highways, snaking sand roads, flat-roofed buildings and houses, glimpses of tempting-looking swimming pools, all in miniature, but growing larger. The land was flat, dusty and yellow. Everything looked baked, even though it was barely 7 a.m. Then the runway opened up in front of us and we landed with a bump.

  “That’s it,” I said again. “We’re here.”

  We passed smoothly through Customs and purchased temporary visas. Reunited with our luggage, we made our way to the exit doors. Both of us were silent, drinking in the foreign sights and smells. I tried not to stare at the white-robed Arabs with their expensive leather luggage, trailed by wives in black, flowing abayas, only their eyes visible behind burkas. In stark contrast, Indian workers milled about, dressed in simple robes or tattered, Western clothes. I was pleased to see a few Europeans and Americans, and felt a little calmer.

  Once through the doors, the heat hit us like a giant fist. My body instantly broke out into a most unladylike sweat. Droplets poured down my scalp, through my hair and ran down my neck. We had only just emerged from the air-conditioned coolness of the airport building and already my clothes stuck damply to me.

  “My word,” Joe breathed, “I’ve never felt heat like this before. Not in Spain, not in Thailand, not even Australia.” Perspiration ran down his face unchecked.

  “I agree. And it’s still early morning! Daryna did warn us.” Daryna was the new Principal of the High School, Joe’s future boss, and we’d formed an online friendship. She’d arrived in Bahrain a week earlier and had frequently emailed us.

  “So,” said Joe, scratching his nethers irritably, “wasn’t somebody supposed to meet us here?”

  We searched the thinning crowds. Nobody appeared to be looking for us.

  “Never mind,” I said. “We’ve got the address. We’ll just take a taxi.” Secretly, I was quite relieved. I needed a shower and change of clothes before meeting anybody.

  We approached the line of taxis and I couldn’t resist searching for tethered camels. Sadly, I didn’t see a single one. A white-robed Arab, with white headdress, detached himself from a group and ushered us into his taxi. The car was modern, clean and air-conditioned. Gratefully, we sank into the comfortable seats.

  “Look,” I whispered to Joe. “He’s even got a feather duster to keep his cab clean.” I didn’t know then that the feather duster on the dashboard served another purpose.

  The journey to our hotel took nearly an hour, which surprised me. Previously, I had located both hotel and airport on a map, and they hadn’t seemed so far apart. Our driver never spoke as we drove along wide, well-maintained avenues lined with palm trees, and crossed modern bridges. Joe and I occasionally nudged each other, pointing out sights of interest.

  As we approached the city of Manama, the buildings became skyscrapers, stretching up to the empty blue sky. Vast white-stone sculptures adorned the highway, including one that looked familiar from my Internet research. This one had massive curved legs and supported a huge stone ball. Beneath it, a water fountain played. It stood in the centre of a large roundabout, the intersection of many motorways.

  The Pearl monument

  “Joe! Look! That’s quite a famous statue, the Pearl monument! The ball on the top represents a pearl and reminds people of what Bahrain used to trade.”

  “Yes, I see it. Vicky, are you sure you gave the driver the right address? We seem to have been in this taxi for hours.”

  “Quite sure.”

  Daryna had already told me that the teachers would be accommodated in a hotel before being moved into brand-new apartments that the school was building for us.

  “Daryna told me the new apartments will be ready in a week or so. This hotel is just a temporary measure.”

  Signposts were written in English and Arabic. Traffic was heavy and every car seemed to be more expensive, larger and cleaner than the last. How do they keep their cars so clean in this dust? I wondered. And what are those round, doughnut shapes burnt into the road?

  We passed shops and restaurants, all closed. We passed many shopping malls advertising familiar brands: Marks and Spencer, Virgin, Starbucks, Kentucky Fried Chicken. I wondered what time they opened.

  At last the taxi stopped in front of a tall building with dark-tinted windows. The driver helped Joe pile up the luggage on the roadside. There was no pavement and sweat poured from Joe’s brow, dripping down his nose and into the soft desert sand.

  “How much is that?” Joe asked, opening his wallet.

  “That’ll be 17BD,” said the driver, avoiding eye contact.

  “That sounds very reasonable,” said Joe, handing the driver one of our crisp new 20BD (Bahraini Dinar) notes, decorated with a smiling King Hamad on one side and a splendid mosque on the other. “Keep the change.”

  While Joe and the driver had been manhandling the luggage, I’d been reading the stickers inside the cab. One said something like, ‘By law, all taxi fares depend on the meter reading. If the driver does not use the meter, you should not pay.’ I looked for the meter and discovered it, obscured by the feather duster on the dashboard.

  “That taxi was a bargain, wasn’t it?” said Joe as the taxi roared away, throwing up clouds of sand. “I only paid him 20BD.”

  I wasn’t so sure. I said nothing then, but checked later. My suspicions were correct. At the very most, the trip should have lasted 20 minutes. And 20BD translated to about £34 or $53. We had been taken for a ride. Literally. The fare should have been between 3 and 5BD.

  The sun beat down without mercy. I stared at my feet as I stood in the sand, my shoes already covered in a layer of dust. Perhaps it was the long journey and tiredness, but I was transfixed by my footprints in the sand. First impressions.

  ۺۺۺ

  Contact the Author and Links

  Email: TopHen@VictoriaTwead.com (emails welcome)

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/VictoriaTwead

  Email: TopHen@VictoriaTwead.com

  (emails welcome)

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/VictoriaTwead

  (friending welcome)

  Victoria’s website:

  www.VictoriaTwead.com

  Free Stuff, Village Updates monthly newsletter

  and drawing for a signed copy of ‘Chickens’.

  http://www.victoriatwead.com/Free-Stuff

  Twitter: @VictoriaTwead

  and @StephenFrysCat

  Victoria’s photos on Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/victoriatwead/

  Video Links

  Kittens born in the street outside our home:

  http://vimeo.com/29115371

  (My favourite!) The YouTube that found the kittens new homes:

  http://bit.ly/na9uMQ

  Chickens, Mules and Two Old Fools book trailer:

  http://youtu.be/1s9KbJEmrHs

  The Gin Twins stacking logs:

  http://bit.ly/n5r1Id

  Jumping Over Babies:

  http://youtu.be/fdj4fL_ua7Q

  Acknowledgements

  Gayle and Iain of Orce Serrano Hams for their constant support along the way. I have shamelessly plundered their knowledge of Spanish cuisine and recipes. If you’re looking for traditional Spanish cookware, or something tasty and Spanish, I highly recommend visiting www.orceserranohams.com

  Carrie Compton from Missouri, who was one of my very first ‘fans’ and whose loyalty and generosity helped me enormously through the launching of Chickens and the writing of Olé!

  Paul Hamilton, not just for the fantastic Olé cover, but for the scores of hilarious
‘photographs’ he constantly sends me. Take a look at Celebrities and Other Animals on my website, or the album on my Facebook page and you’ll see what I mean...

  Justin Aldridge and the members of EyeOnSpain.com, who gave me so much encouragement when ‘Chickens’ was launched.

  Mindy Sampson for her friendship and proofreading expertise.

  Clive Muir for fascinating Spanish wildlife facts. Check out his website - www.grazalemaguide.com

  Kiersten Rowland, one of my first readers. Living in Spain, we have much in common and sharing experiences with her has been a pleasure and a laugh. www.kierstenrowland.com

  Sandra Marshall and Alstrays - alstrays.com for their help with the cat family that entered our lives unexpectedly. Thanks to their selfless work, countless cats and kittens have been found new forever homes.

  Our amazing friends, the Gin Twins, Sue and Juliet. May they long continue to visit us in El Hoyo. The gin bottle will always await their arrival, along with chilled tonic and ice-cubes.

  My son Shealan (my computer guru) and his lovely wife Hannah who’ve always taken an interest in my small successes.

  My daughter Karly for allowing her stories and photographs to be used, (yet again), and for her constant encouragement. And thanks to Cam, Di and Barry for embracing Karly into their family, allowing me to stop worrying about her being so far away.

  My wonderful friends Tweek and Al and their daughters Emma, Beth and Meg for always being in the background rooting for me.

  Hanna Uehre, one of the sweetest, most thoughtful people I have ever met on the Internet. Twitter name @Travelmaus.

  The vast majority of events in the book are true, although some of the people and place names have been changed to protect privacy.

  If I have made mistakes in any of the recipes, please forgive me. Similarly, please overlook any Spanish language errors - I still have much to learn.