Magic Carpet Stories

In 3 weeks time I'm going to hit my one year mark here in Bahrain.

I can't don't believe it.

I can still mentally weave myself through the mess of boxes to be shipped, all those despedidas, the huling hirit beach trips and inumans. The sight of my bedroom emptied out as a glass of Tequila Sunrise freely given to some drunkard having a really bad (or good) day was more than I could bear. I can still replay the most depressing plane ride I've ever had in my life and that first aerial glimpse of Arabian/Bahraini night lights, which I probably would've considered beautiful, even enchanting, had I not been too busy mourning my momentary "disentanglement" from everything I've ever known, everything familiar, everything I was used to.

Of course I'm being dramatic. What's new? It's only for a couple of years, big deal. Then again the thought of being away from my comfort zone of 21 years makes living in this middle eastern, first world, muslim-dominated, semi conservative-cultured, arabic-speaking, camel-farming, carpet-flying, sand-covered country seem insurmountable and just a tad bit larger than life.

After 11 months with 2 vacations tucked in between, I should consider myself lucky. But the truth is, the homesickness hasn't subsided and a one-way ticket back to Manila still lures me in like a nice piece of chocolate cake. So why not take a bite? There's nothing preventing me from devouring that moist fudgey thing. Why prolong the agony? Reality speaking it won't get any sweeter than it already is. Am I so into this oh-so-profound journey that I won't even stop to taste that damn piece of cake?

I did it and I’m almost halfway through. At this point I can almost see myself crossing the finish line. There are truffles and creams, nougats and caramels, pralines and mousses, and an overflowing chocolate fountain at the finish line.