And the result is….?

So, I bet you are all wondering whether I passed my driving test or not.  Well, before I tell you the result, I should probably tell you about the day itself and all the events leading up to the test.

So, as I told you in my previous post, my driving instructor had gone missing for 2 weeks. With just 3 days until the test, he finally got back to me. As much as I felt like exploding, I managed to keep my cool and spoke calmly to him through gritted teeth. He blamed his car for his absence stating it had to go to the garage for servicing. Okay…whatever. So we arranged a lesson for the day before my test at 7am in the morning, with one more lesson on the day of the test itself. So 2 days later, I am up at 6.30am and called my instructor, no answer. I tried again at 6.45am…no answer. And at 7am, then every 15 minutes until I gave up an hour later. I was furious, I had steam coming out of my ears and if you could have seen me that morning you would have been forgiven for thinking I was possessed by the devil. In the end, the instructor decided to call me at midday by which time I was at work. He was as casual as anything, apologised and told me he slept in. Okay…Keep.Your.Cool. He promised to pick me up the next day at 2pm, 2 hours before my test. I had at this point already accepted I was going to fail and kind of gave up trying with my damned instructor.

As you can imagine, I was in a highly stressed state. Everybody around me was telling me that I wouldn’t pass my first test as no one ever does. They were all also asking me if I knew ‘somebody’ who could put in a kind ‘word’ at the directorate for a small fee. Well, no I didn’t. It seemed everybody I had spoken to who has learnt how to drive in Bahrain has friends in high places. I have had a few offers of help where one would kindly speak to a ‘friend’ for me at the bargain price of BD200 (£350)…but I wasn’t too sure I wanted to go down that route and politely declined these kind offers.

The day of the test came and the butterflies in my stomach were doing overtime. My test was at 4pm. I called my instructor at 1.30pm to check that he was on his way. No answer. Tried again at 2pm. No answer. Tried again at 2.15pm…his kid answered!!! Where the hell was he!!? Less than 2 hours to go and he was no-where in sight. I couldn’t make sense of the conversation with his child and slammed down the phone trying very hard not to burst into tears. 20 minutes later, he calls me and tells me he will pick me up in 15 minutes….BUT ITS 2.30PM MORON!!! He finally showed his silly face at 3pm and it was all a mad rush to the driving school where we arrived 20 minutes later. I was on the verge of tears, the whole time my instructor was telling me ‘don’t worry’, ‘no problem’, ‘you beautiful’. I told him that it was his fault I was going to fail, to which he laughed his head off as if it was the funniest thing he ever heard. We got to the driving school, did a ten minute intensive on the hill, unsuccessfully parked my car in reverse and I completely forgot to stop at the stop signs. It was very clear from my driving that I was nervous.  ‘You see…I will fail!’ I told him. He saw this as the perfect chance to be a bit cheeky and suggested in a roundabout way that if I was to give him a ‘gift’ I could pass easily. A gift? For all the stress he has put me through and the whole trauma of this experience, the last thing I was thinking of was to give him a gift!! But there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested that this was not just any old ‘gift’. I racked my brains thinking of all the ‘gifts’ he would want. And there was only one gift he wanted. NO WAY!!! I didn’t entertain this suggestion at all and asked him if he meant a ‘tip’ (for me a tip is money). He asked me what a ‘tip’ was. I replied by saying ‘money’ using the example of a waitress getting a ‘tip’ for good service. He replied by feigning confusion, uummmming and arrrrring…he was not going to come out with it, but I knew what was implied. I of course pretended I didn’t and said that of course I would give him a tip if I passed (again, tip meaning money!) for his good services. He didn’t push it further. I hadn’t a clue how he interpreted my interpretation of his ‘gift’ which threw me into a panic; blood had seemingly drained from my head; I felt dizzy, anxious and worst of all started sweating in buckets! I had to question whether this entire trauma was worth a driving license; I questioned this more since it appeared I would not be passing that same day.

The instructor led me to the driving school where I had to wait in a room for women only.  My ten minute wait in that room was slightly unsettling. If looks could kill, I would have been dead as soon as I walked into that room. I was the only woman not wearing an Abaya or a Hijab. They did that thing that a lot of women do; gave me a good look up and down, checked out my bag, had a good look at my jewellery, examined what I was wearing. Whereas the women in the UK might be a bit more subtle practising this ritual, these women couldn’t have been more obvious. For the whole 10 minutes these women just stared at me, and the worst thing was that they looked angry with me! At times it even felt like they were talking about me, as animated gestures and loud Arabic were directed towards me. My name was finally called by loudspeaker and I had to make my way to room 11 as instructed. I was greeted by 3 policewomen, 2 of them speaking loudly on their mobiles. My designated police officer took my book, gave it the once over and asked me to follow her to a car outside. I chanted to myself. Keep. Calm. Dont. Panic. I took deep a deep breath and stepped into the car. I followed her instruction to turn the car on and go right, the test had begun!

My first thought was that the car itself was a dream, so smooth and the balancing of the clutch and accelerator was so easy. However no sooner had this thought popped into my head, I stalled the car. I laughed nervously as the police officer made a note on her papers. We made our way to the hill where I successfully used the handbrake. We then went to the park the car in reverse, which I did perfectly. We went to the roundabout where I didn’t panic once and even remembered to look in my right mirror. Wow, this was going really well, what had I been worried about? It was at this point the police officer instructed me to go right which I knew from what I had been told, I had passed inside the school and now we were going outside!  Now, don’t get excited. I had only passed inside the school. The big test was whether I could survive outside the school….with other cars on the road.

So basically driving outside of the school went something like this. I spent about 3 minutes at a give way line trying desperately to join the main line of traffic. I managed to stall the car twice. When coming up to a traffic light, my stopping and starting was more like being on a fairground attraction with an unnatural up and down spluttering of the car (I think I was in the wrong gear). I forgot to indicate when doing my u-turn. And my u-turn was more like an s-turn as I turned into the left lane and swerved back into the right. At each point, I saw her scribble something on the papers. I was definitely sure to fail.

On the way back to the school she asked me if I had driven before. I replied no, thinking ‘is it really that obvious?’ She also asked me if I was a Filipino. I was a bit thrown by the question and wondered if I said yes, would she pass me. But I said no and told her I was half Chinese and half English. ‘Hmmmm….’ she said. Hmmmm what I wondered. ‘So you are British?’ ‘Yes’ ‘You are from United Kingdom?’ ‘Ermmm…yes?’ ‘Please wait for me in room 9’

I made my way to room 9 whilst the police officer parked the car. She came to meet me and took me into another room where there was a male officer sat behind a big desk. They both looked at me, whilst she pondered her decision. At this point I was past caring; I had already failed in my mind. She continued to look at me as if she couldn’t quite work me out, I felt like a contestant on Who wants to be a millionaire…the suspense was killing me, just put me out of my misery for god’s sake! ‘Okay, you pass’.’What!!?’ And then I broke out into a hysterical fit of high pitched squeals, excited giggles and animated ‘thank you’s, the whole time shaking her hand in a very excited and frantic manner. I resisted the urge to kiss her and I had to consciously stop myself from breaking into a dance. She just giggled and I couldn’t stop saying thank you whilst grinning like a Cheshire cat! The man behind the desk didn’t seem so excited; it almost looked as if he was rolling his eyes. He stamped my book and barked instructions on how to get my license.

I made my way out of the driving school on the biggest ‘high’ ever. It had been a long time that I had felt this happy and excited. My face obviously showed it as all of the men I passed reciprocated my permanent smile with suggestive cheesy grins. Not even the sight of my instructor waiting at the door could wipe that smile off my face. He knew I had passed and congratulated me. I was tempted to ask him how he knew, but decided against it. He offered me a lift home, to which I made up an excuse that I was going to the mall and would take a taxi. ‘What about my gift?’ he asked. Damn. I forgot about that. I opened my purse and pulled out a few notes. ‘This is a thank you for teaching me to drive’ I said. He took it, but seemed unsatisfied. At this point I was frantically looking for a taxi. ‘But, what about a kiss?’ And he offered me his cheek. I told him in the nicest way possible ‘I don’t think so!’ He accepted this and sighed, he told me he would miss me, that I had been hard work, harder than exercise in fact (odd thing to say!), that I was beautiful and he would always think of me. He asked if he could call me, could we discuss Chinese medicine some time (another odd thing to say!), could he teach me how to drive an automatic. I politely declined his offers. He looked sad, looked tearful almost; I shook his hand, thanked him and went to get a taxi.

I walked away relieved that this particular chapter in my life was over. I was excited to start the next chapter in my life, a chapter that will give me independence here in Bahrain; DRIVING FOR MYSELF!!! Woohoo!!!!

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