Foreign Travel Essay

The winter of 2009 was one of excitement, wonderment, and anxiety, an unbelievable time of adventure. Steve spoke of foreign lands and wondrous sights and people. I longed to travel as he did. My travels had always been limited to my home country; having traveled to forty-one of the fifty states of the United States of America. Therefore, foreign travel was just that: foreign. Steve, my husband, was deployed with the Navy to the Middle East. His attachment, VRC-30 Detachment 2, was temporarily stationed in Bahrain. My husband wanted me to experience a country like none other. He convinced me to book a trip to Bahrain for nine days. With the help of my husband, I booked my flight. It was so exhilarating. After the initial excitement dwindled,

It was beautiful. After getting dressed accordingly, with my non-revealing long-sleeved shirt, long pants, and closed-toed shoes, we headed out into the foreign country for breakfast. My husband took us to this little French bistro. We were sat at a lovely table on the patio. Our waiter came to the table he never made eye contact with me or spoke to me. I tried to address him, "May I have a bottle of water?" he looked shocked as if I have multiple heads. The waiter never answered, simply looked at my husband and waiting for him to request my simple, unimportant bottle of water. I felt so offended and outraged. Steve and I discussed, in hushed tones, my disappointment. He reassured me that this was normal, everyday behavior in the Middle East. We exited the restaurant and headed out into the city for our adventure.
Steve drove us around showing me different landmarks. I sat in the passenger seat content and smiling. We passed by the prince 's palace, the bazaar, and the military base. Steve brought the vehicle to another street that he called American Alley. The street was filled with predominantly American based companies and franchises: Fuddruckers, Starbucks, McDonald 's, Burger King, and many others. They greeted me like an old friend. Steve parked the

Upon entering the establishment, a short gentleman from behind the counter asked," What may I start for you?" Forgetting where I was for a moment, I stepped forward and spoke, "May I have a venti caramel Frappuccino?" Once again I was briefly stared at as if I was Medusa from Greek mythology. The man then diverted his stare to my husband. Steve then repeated what I said and the man scampered off to make the drink. I was completely dumbfounded. How could women allow a man to treat them as if they did not exist? I could not fathom such behavior. Beyond offended, I accepted the drink from the man with the blank stare that pierced through me. We quietly exited Starbucks. Steve smiled and reassured me, that was just the way it was.
The days seemed to repeat themselves: restaurants, sightseeing, and shopping. The same treatment of women could be witnessed in every single place that I visited or passed. Each instance that was witnessed, I would have to remind myself that I was just a visitor, just an observer, in their homeland. My thoughts, my feelings are just that: