“Do you live in a mud hut?”

“Do you ride camels everywhere?”

“Did you go to a one-roomed school?”

            These are just a few of the weird and wonderful questions asked by teenagers at boarding school who had never travelled out of the UK, except for a possible trip to Majorca or Tenerife, or, if you were feeling really adventurous, Disneyland Florida! These queries were the result of meeting someone who had lived twelve years of her life on a tiny island in the Arabian Gulf. (There was also a slight misunderstanding when someone thought Bahrain was landlocked, and that the Arabian Gulf was a country in Africa! People are always determined to think it is a city, no matter how many times I explain that it is a country in its own right.) Many were most disappointed to learn that I lived in a perfectly normal house, complete with flushing toilets, had never ridden a camel anywhere, and went to a large school where they did not force us to read and recite the Koran or anything of the sort. They were shocked to learn that I did not even speak Arabic, and disappointed to discover that I was quite fluent in English.

          Considering that Bahrain was a British Protectorate for a hundred years, very few people were aware that life here was much the same as in Scotland. I would have to say that the main difference is that in Bahrain you do not play hockey in -7°c, with the rain pouring down. In Scotland, you do. At these times it was easy to forget how horrible the Bahrain summer can be, and wish it on Scotland. However, I think if Scotland were to get some Bahrain temperatures, a few of my classmates would melt like the wicked witch of the west in the Wizard of Oz.

          There were a good few changes to get used to, going to boarding school, and living in a house with sixty odd people, with another twenty or so as day girls. Having the option of doing my own laundry, having to change my own bed (resulting in wrestling matches with a duvet!), and eating with a few hundred pupils and teachers. I soon learnt to close my eyes when I ate - a common phrase in Strathallan life is “what is tea pretending to be tonight?” It either looks okay, or tastes okay, never both. Sometimes neither.

          Being back in Bahrain for Christmas was another shock- no more school food for three weeks, not a hockey stick in sight, no prep every night, and I don’t roll out of bed in the middle of the night, having been restored to my double. Nor do I freeze when my duvet gets kicked off. But I know as soon as I get back I’ll love it as much as I did for the first term - until I have to play netball in -7°c temperatures, complete with rain. Oh, well, still better than hockey!

                                                                                                Lucy Grieve