My Date with a Stick Shift.....

During my sight seeing trips in Iran, I visited quite a number of tourist attractions, of which one of the most pleasant to one’s eyes was the botanical Garden in Tehran. It was absolutely breathe taking, a place where you can sit and relax, watch the beauty of nature combined with an artificial stone path way, and take in a breath of fresh air. The ‘Jamshidieh Stone Garden’ located on the front slopes of a Kolakchal Mountain, in the Niavaran district of Tehran, an area that the rich and the mostly affluent reside.

It has open air amphitheatre, hiking trails to the mountaintop, and picnic areas, several restaurants, as well as traditional teahouses (houses of culture).

But this blog is not about the spectacular garden, nor the weather, or how we could benefit from such a place here in Bahrain. No, not those things, but rather what happened after we left that beautiful place.

We arrived there by four in the afternoon, but sadly had to leave early because it was getting dark, and we had still not climbed to the very top. There were six of us, and in most places in Iran, at least 5 people can get into the small paykan (car) personal taxis’, excluding the driver.

So we got a cab, me and an acquaintance sad in the front. Yes, the both of us sat on one seat, we had to squeeze in though and there in lay the problem. The other four sat in the back.

NOW, 99.99999 % of all cars in IRAN are manual, so the driver has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the Stick shift, forcefully guiding the stick from one gear to the next.

Unfortunately, since I was sitting on the inside, gears one and two were, well let’s just say they really got acquainted to my thigh and left cheek, and I'm not talking about my face here.

As I felt the driver change into third gear, yes I say felt, not saw but felt, because now the stick shift was touching the under parts of my left thigh.

He then looked at me, and with a embarrassed grin asks if I would give him permission to shift into fourth gear.

I got the message and had to take it like a mannnnnnn, fourth gear was right under my bottom and no matter how much I squeezes and squirmed, twisted and turned, I just could not shift it, the goods i mean, away from the in evitable, so I gave in and took it like a man.

During the trip, all I could think of was, STOP, NO TRESPASSING, DO NOT ENTER, PRIVATE PROPERY, and for the love of god, pleeeeeeeeeeeeesseeee nooooooooooo BUMPY ROAaaDDDS!

By the end of the trip I had gone to third base and back with the stick shift gear box, at least three times that come to mind, but fourth base was safe, cause I had my cheeks shut iron tight, and when I pounced out of the cab as it stopped at our final destination, and pushing my acquaintance during my rush, I could have sworn I saw the gear box wink at me……

Brain dead! At such an early age?

Today (8th May 2007) we completed work on time, for once, there was no last minute this or that, so most of the staff left by 3:30, I stayed until 4:00 just to finish up.

I did a last pilgrimage to the toilet and I was set to go home. I headed into our work ‘car park building’ and went up to the fifth floor to get in to my car and drive home. Low and behold, I had forgotten that I had come in early today and had parked on the third floor.

Pissed off, I walked down two flights of stairs down to the third floor, got into my car and drove home wards. While driving I remembered a somewhat similar incident that happened to me a very long time back.

FLASH BACK
I started working in 1994 when I was 19 years old, and after a year, at the beginning of 2005, I was able to get a loan to buy a car. Before then I used to walk to work daily, I lived in Manama (close to the police forth - now ‘Ministry of Interior’, in the ‘Mushber area’ and walked daily through the Manama souq to get to the ‘Shekha Hessa Building’ next to the NBB tower.

Anyway; with the car I could now drive to work.

The very first day, I went to work, as with most of the other staff, I had to park on car on the ‘cournash’; the sea front where the ‘Bahrain Financial Harbour’ now resides.

At 7:30 pm, after a very long day’s work, I was glad to run out of the office and stretch my legs. I walked towards the souq as I always did, passed by the ‘Bab ul Bahrain’, then the ‘Aloo Basheer’ shop, next I walked past the ‘Jafaar hamburger’ shop and finally reached home, in the ‘mushber’ area.

I went home, changed, relaxed and watched TV. By 11:pm, as I was about to get ready to go to bed, this unfamiliour feeling came over me of ‘me forgetting to do something or misplacing something’.

And WHAM, it occurred to me that I was now a car owner,

“SHIT”, I had come home walking and had forgotten my car which was still parked at the ‘cournash’.

The next morning I walked to work but never mentioned what happened to anyone, UNTIL now.

Truly best friends

Do you know who your best friends are?

I bet if you really think about it, all the friends that you have do not really fall under this category.

So who actually is a best friend?

To me, it’s someone who understands you and knows what you want even before you do; someone who you can share your darkest secrets with and not be judged by; someone who you can discuss your dreams and desires with and your lives become stories that you verbally piece together, like a lego set; Someone you can talk to continuously for long periods at a time, even into the late hours of the night, just small talk; someone whose presence is enough to comfort you even if no words are exchanged; Someone who listened to you when you need to be heard; Someone who will go to great length to ensure that you are not discomforted in awkward moments; someone who will stand with you and comfort you when you break up with your first love; someone who will willingly do a favour and does not ask for anything in return; Someone who will share his breakfast with you when you forget to bring yours to school.

I had friends like this, but as faith would have it, they have all moved on to bigger and better lives, many of them are now in other countries; leaving me behind, alone. Don’t get me wrong; I have lots of friends that I talk to and go out with, but they can never replace the presence & comfort provided by being with your ‘best friends’.

Now a days, the word ‘best friend’ is used loosely to describe any and all the people we know. This is not so. True best friends are mostly made when we are young, in our school years and our neighbour hood.

In my school days, I had six best friends, each in a different period of my life, and they have all moved on;

1) Mohsin (Bahraini); my very first best friend; this was in my Junior 1 & 2 years. I remember days when I went to his house or when he came to mine, times when we played at school and the day he stopped talking to me for no apparent reason, that same year he transferred out of our school and I never heard from him again; and never have since.

2) Ali (Bahraini) ; Junior 3 to Junior 7, I met him when he first transferred to our school, I remember our class room door opening, he and his mother standing in the door way, the teacher giving him the empty seat next to me, and the rest as they say is history. We were very close, went out together, we were inseparable, weekends, holidays and special events. He left, for America to complete his high school and then went on to college. He later came back, worked for three years and returned to the US, he is now works there; is married and has a daughter, Layla. I have not spoken to him for the past two years but I still get news of him from his brother.

3) Ramzi (Bahraini dad /British mum); Junior 4 & 5, I once chipped one of his front teeth during a friendly skirmish. After school, we used to walk to his grandmother’s house, in Manama, wait till his dad picked him up and then I would continue on and go home. Ali, Ramzi & I had formed a play group and called ourselves the ‘Panthers’. He left after Junior 5 and I never heard from him since.
4) Jim (Seychellois); Junior 3 to 5, His father was a cook and worked at a Sheikh’s house somewhere in Zallaq. He always came over on weekends and we used to spend hours walking in the Manama souq. We used to read a lot of comics, and we always trying to see who was better at this or that; two events that come to mind are playing bean bag and a shop listing incident that I am not too proud of. He too returned back to his home country with his parents.

5) Nadaav (Indian); Junior 6 to Senior 1, we clicked from the first time we met, we were inseparable; anything and everything would get us giggling and then we’d burst into all out laughter. We gave names to all the teachers; our favourite was ‘Rat face’. We joked all the time and made fun of everyone. Alsa, he left with his family who were immigrating to Sydney, Australia.

6) Meraash (Sri Lankan); Junior 6 to Senior 5; We used to sit for long hours and discuss our dreams, what we wanted to do and what we would do if certain things happened, we shared our sadness and rejoiced in our happiness. He left for Sri Lanka when we graduated from high school; and later got a scholarship to a college in NY, USA. He loved reading comics and his favourite character was ‘Wolverine’. He was very talented and had an unbelievable ability to drawn fantastic sketches.

When you revisit certain memories in your life, one usually finds flaws in them, or remembers them differently than they actually occurred; I want to remember my best friends the way they are in my mind now.

I thank them for the good times and the bad; I will cherish the memories for all eternity. The moments that were shares together have made me the person that I am today; the visited we had gave me the confidence I have today, the discussions and ‘constructive’ arguments we had allowed me to aspire to bigger and better things.

I now have one best friend, my loving wife.