Bahrain. In the
early evening. In the
spice souk,
downtown. Just after
dusk, the sky has turned that
dark deep blue just before it actually turns
black. A warm
wind blows through, drawing the
heat out of the streets and buildings.
Women in black robes with nothing visible but their
eyes that shine and flash hurry past,
formlessly beautiful. The
smell of spices I can't identify pulls me farther in the
maze of dimly lit streets past the main road, and I follow it until the
gold shops are only a glow off to my left. I finally stop when I realize that here, the shops have all closed for the night, and I look around, breathing in deeply the warm summer air, and I think,
Ahh, to be young and in the Middle East in the summer!
But I've only visited the Middle East, never lived there. And when I returned to Bahrain a year later in the daylight, it was hot like the inside of an oven set to Broil, and the wind brought fine gritty dust that got in my mouth, and it stank. But always, when I think of the Middle East, I think of that night in Bahrain when I was ready to pack up everything, convert to Islam, and marry a beautiful dark eyed Bahrainian woman just so I could stay there forever.