Hey Friends!

I’ve been meaning to tell you about this one for a while. A little while back I flew out to Manama, Bahrain to play a show — Seef Mall was celebrating its 10th anniversary, and I got to be part of the lineup with my electric violin, alongside fire performers, human statues, an urban artist live-painting a car, and a balloon drop to close out the night. Backstage was pure chaos in the best way — quick changes, everyone in and out of each other’s mirrors, that particular kind of pre-show energy that never gets old no matter how many times I’ve felt it.

But honestly, some of my favourite parts of the trip happened before I even picked up my violin.

The skyline that stopped me in my tracks

Driving in from the airport, the first thing that gets you is the Bahrain World Trade Center — these two enormous, curved towers rising up right on the water, with wind turbines built right into the bridges between them. It’s such a striking piece of architecture, and it’s right there next to the harbour, where dozens of old wooden dhows were tied up together, rust-red hulls bobbing in the water like they’d been there for a hundred years. New glass towers on one side, centuries-old fishing boats on the other. That contrast pretty much sums up Bahrain.

The KFC by the mosque

I have to admit, one thing genuinely caught me off guard: driving through the city centre and seeing a Kentucky Fried Chicken sitting right next to a beautiful old mosque with its minaret and clock tower. Colonel Sanders’ face on one side of the street, centuries of history on the other. I laughed out loud in the car. It’s such a small thing, but it stuck with me — that mix of old and new, local and global, existing side by side without any fuss. You see it everywhere once you notice it: road signs pointing to the Bahrain International Circuit and the Central Market in the same breath.

Getting lost in the market

If you ever get the chance to wander a souk, take it. I ducked into the market near the Central Market and just followed my nose — literally. The spice stalls were incredible, these perfect little pyramids of turmeric, paprika, ground coriander, and spices I couldn’t even name, all piled up in wooden trays like edible art. The smell hit me before I even saw the stall. Deeper into the alleys there were shops selling dried nuts and seeds by the sackful, sweets shops, fabric, everything all tangled together under corrugated tin roofs with light pouring through in these amazing shafts. People were just going about their day — a shopkeeper stepping out for a smoke, a woman in a black abaya picking out nuts and spices, a man walking past with his hands in his pockets like it was any other Tuesday. I felt like a total outsider in the best way, just soaking it in.

The people

What I’ll remember most isn’t the skyline or even the show — it’s the people. Everyone I met, from the crew backstage to the shopkeepers who patiently let me point and gesture my way through a purchase, was so warm and generous with their time. There’s something about being a travelling musician that drops you into these tiny, real moments with people you’d never otherwise meet, even if it’s just for the length of a transaction in a spice shop. Those are the moments that actually stay with you, long after you’ve forgotten the setlist.

Bahrain wasn’t a place I ever expected to play a show, and it ended up being one of the trips I think about most. If you ever get the chance to go, take a walk through the old market before you do anything else. Let yourself get a little lost.

Sophie XX