The life of an expat can seem exciting if you’re not an expat. Living in a country that’s not your home country and experiencing “the life”. There’s a few things you’re not taught about expat life though, and one of those is something I learnt last week.
Anish and I have begun to make friends. We’ve got a great group to hang out with thanks to /r/Bahrain and friends from work. A mixed bag of expats and Bahrainis. The expat population in Bahrain is mostly transient. People will come here and work for a few years and then move on. Bahrain also feels like the kind of place that attracts the kind of expat who’s more likely to just move on after an amount of time.
I like to stay healthy. Especially with my very sedentary job. Squash is my main form of exercise, but I try to bolster it with occasional trips to the gym to hit the bike and weights.
Standing in front of the mirror, with a couple of weights in my hands, I looked at my reflection and thought, “You don’t look half bad you know.” I’ve never been one to be overly concerned about body image. A long time ago I accepted the shape I am. But today was the first time I looked at my reflection and looked at it in more than an accepting kind of way.
Every Monday morning I wake up yearning after the weekend that’s just gone by, eagerly waiting for the next weekend to come. Sunday nights are the worst. Knowing that the following day begins the five long days until the next weekend arrives. Friday evening rolls around, everything resets. As cheesy as it sounds, it feels like anything is possible. Two whole days. DAMN.
Bath is a beautiful town. And I’m glad I got to spend just a couple of days taking in what I could. In this edition of Remember When… I’m going back to May, 2013. It was an emotional time for me. See, I was staring down the barrel of a long-distance relationship. What do you do in that situation? Well, go for a few days away to forget about things for a little while.
It’s no secret that I like Google. And I like Google even more when it reminds me that seven long years ago I went on holiday to Barcelona to a lovely bunch of people.
SEVEN YEARS! When I saw that number I was a little shocked. Has it really been that long? The memories of that holiday are still so vivid. Starting with getting to the check-in desk at Luton airport and finding out that you accidentally forgot the first name of one of your closest friends. Sorry Mel! And having the shock of my life when the tire of your rental explodes in an underpass in the middle of the city. During rush hour.