Day 28 - An unexpected kiss

21.5.09 - Have just come back from a cultural outing en famille. We decided to break out of the compound today to visit an old fortress. This is not a decision one takes lightly and it needs planning. 

First, timing is key, it's not a good idea to venture anywhere outdoors in the middle of the day, midday heat now reaching high forties in the shade, and if out of the shade, you really can't expect to last more than 5 -10 minutes (especially with children and poor me in Abaya) before lethargy, thirst and ultimately sense of panic sets in. As a result, most things shut between 12 and 4pm. So we decide that early morning would be the best time to go and make it out of the house around 9.30am, which gives us 2.5 hours before next prayer time, and subsequent closure of all commercial activities.

Then there is transport. We don't have a car yet (waiting to get bank account sorted out), we tried renting a car (didn't have right kind of driving license), we tried getting a compound taxi (all booked up) and there is no public transport. So, the only option left is to take the compound courtesy car to outer gates (about half a kilometre away), and wait in little air conditioned room while Dirk walks up to main road and hails a taxi. Luckily we're heading to a well known part of Riyadh so no need for instructions. Very few roads have names here, and street numbers don't exist. From experience, when hopping into a taxi, we now secretly pray for 3 things: 1. they have seat belts (only 20% seem to have them), 2. they speak english (about 80% speak a smattering) and 3. they know how to get to where you want to go (very hit and miss). The common way of dealing with the latter, is to call up your destination when en route (eg. restaurant) and then pass the phone to the driver who can be guided by phone until you reach your end point. Even that doesn't guarantee you will get to where you want to be!

And there is information, or the lack of it. Practical info such as places to visit, opening hours, directions, safety, etc, is hard to come by. Very little is available online and the little that is (often on expat sites) often out of date. We found in a publication the opening hours for the Riyadh Zoo, and were bemused to see that Mondays, Wednesday and Saturdays were men only days, and other days are women only days. Which means we could never go as a family. And I couldn't even go alone with the children as Seb is 10, and considered to be a man. No idea if this is enforced, or even up to date. So typically, you'd need to pitch up, and find out when you are there.

So no wonder most people stay on compound. 

Anyhow, we've long ago decided that we would embrace this country, with all its quirks, intriguing customs and unpredictability. 

We decide to head off to Musmak Fortress. The info we have suggests that it is open, and that today is a family day (ie. not a men only or women only day). It's a good start. We're dropped off a little way away (not sure why) and make our way through a huge square, surrounded by elegant government buildings and the odd palm tree. We notice a bunch of men are hosing down part of the square and realise that this must be Chop Chop Square. Yikes! however we see no sign of blood, and can only imagine (or try not to) what might have happened there that morning.  

When we travel, we like to try and mingle with locals and whilst we've no hope in h**l of blending in, we do enjoy doing as they would. We spot a small old fashioned coffee shop with a handful of men, in full attire (thobe and head gear), in serious discussion, drinking from little cups, looking quite stern (a Saudi speciality). No women or children in sight. And this is always the dilemma. What's acceptable behaviour? We'd like to sit down, but we're not sure if it would cause offense or break any rules. But the rules are unclear, often unspoken and mostly undefined. Women are not seen in public very much, and very rarely alone. Most places have separate sections for men and women, or closed off family rooms. Definitely, a Saudi family or husband and wife would not come here. But as westerners, it's hard to know what you can get away with, without causing offense. 

To add to this, we're right next to the "Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice" head office. A very very serious affair. This is where the Muttawa (the religious police) are groomed. They are the ones that will come and tell you off if you are showing too much flesh for example (a bit of ankle, the top of your head, that kind of shocking behaviour). We've heard many tales, but the only encounter we've had with them so far was when we were in a taxi, Dirk threw his cigarette butt out of the window. A Muttawa in a neighbouring car pointed at the cigarette butt and shook his finger, looking fierce. Apparently they have little power, unless they are accompanied by a policeman. Still, you should never never argue with a Muttawa. Power or no power, they can be very nasty, I'm told. 

Dirk decides to go in and ask if it's OK for us to sit at one of the tables outside, which it is. We say we'd like to have 'what they are having' and sit ourselves around a little table. Meanwhile, an old man dressed all in white, is making his way towards us. He's holding a briefcase and appears quite respectable. As he reaches us he gives us a big smile (half his teeth are missing) and bends down to kiss Rosalie (who look horrified and runs off), so he proceeds to bend down again to kiss Oliver (lightly on the lips) and then Sebastian (also on the lips). Seb is absolutely horrified, but I'm pleased he manages to remain polite and respectful throughout this strange, rather off-putting moment! For a split second I'm worried he's going to do the same to me but I'm spared and he serenely walks off. Seb spends the rest of the day wiping his lips, and claims his feeling ill. Such a drama queen. 

The coffee arrives in a charming gold teapot with a long beaker, as well as some tiny drinking bowls, a dish of dates and a small bowl of water for finger rinsing. We examine the teapot and find a small knot of wool stuck in the opening. We pull it out and wonder why it's there. The smell of the coffee is wonderful, a rich spicy coffee smell, with lots of cardamon. We pour it out and find little 'bits' floating in the coffee. We think it's the cardamon, or some other spice and realise what the little ball of wool is for, acts as a filter. Simple but clever. The coffee tastes bitter and is not quite 'my cup of tea!', but if you take a bite of date, then a sip of coffee it kind of works. Still, one small cup is enough for me. The children try it out with varying degrees of success, and Seb spills most of it on his lap. He's still going on about the horrible man without teeth who kissed him, and now he's scalded himself. No need to say, he'd much rather be at the pool with his friends. Cultural outing? Going to see an old building again? Big sighs. He quickly cheers up when we get to the gold souk and his eyes are popping out at the sight of all the jewellery. He can't believe they are all real, and he is making complicated mental calculations as to what it could all be worth. 

Spicy Coffee Stop

The Fortress is stunning from the outside, and we decide to be brave and take some photos (photography is illegal in Saudi, but it's so photogenic we can't resist). We wonder how to get in as there are no signs of any kind. We approach a huge door (seb is convinced he can see eyes looking at us from the other side) and knock. No response. We find a bell, and ring. And old man opens the door, takes one look at us (at this point we're looking rather wilted, we're hot, bothered and keen to get inside) and shakes his head. Someone translates his words, "closed for maintenance". We see a few other westerners come out... We argue our case (we've come a long way to see the fortress) but no go. He won't budge, or smile. Dirk is getting annoyed. I'm resigned. That's how it is here. Unpredictable. 

Trying to get in

Musmak Fortress - Central Riyadh

After a 'fresh juice' stop, another divine lemon and mint for me, we make various random impulse purchases from the souk: 

 - 6 mangos bought for £2 from a man with a wheel barrow and very high pitched voice (we wonder what's wrong with him), we don't even bother haggling, it's so cheap, and he's obviously quite poor

-  a cheap plastic pram for Rosalie (there I decide to haggle, the man says £10, I say £2, he says OK) 

- cool jeans for Seb for his 'rap' performance at school (I try to haggle, the man says no, I walk off, he doesn't come running after me, I send Seb back to pay asking price)

- and school shoes for Oli - but the Imams are calling, prayer is about to start, shops are closing all around, (they can be severely fined or emprisoned for doing business during prayer time), so there's a rush to find the right size, at this point any size that might more or less fit will do, and we quickly pay our £8 before dashing out. 

We hail a taxi (no seatbelts so we wave him off), try another (he's got most of them) and head home, to our usual double taxi sequence. 

By then, we're desperate for a swim, I'm fantasizing about a cold coke, Seb thinks he's going to throw up, Rosalie has fallen asleep in my arms, and Oli is scratching his mosquito bites. Dirk in the front stays cool as usual. 

And so our 2 hour outing comes to an end. And we return to our sanctuary with great relish.

(Note: please email me on florence@hughes.co.uk if you wish to be notified when a new post is published)

Day 23 - I should be working

25.5.09 - I should be working and I'm blogging, again. I have actually something important to do today, which involves using my brain. Might explain why I haven't started...

Most women (well all the ones I've met so far) have come here because of their husband's job. And, one has to admit, there is not a huge amount to do here as a woman, beyond the pool and various leisure activities on the compound, and going to shopping malls (which are plentiful and varied, but still). There are lots of coffee mornings on offer, at other compounds, and a fair amount of socialising. For many, this is an attractive life, and very satisfying. But if you want to escape, as I do (and a few others), the expat bubble, you need determination and a bit of good luck. The few women that do manage to break away, turn to teaching. There is a huge demand for english speaking teachers, some schools don't even require any qualifications. And of course the hours make it easy if you have children. I could turn to teaching, I was in fact informally offered a job (I speak english and look respectable, that was enough). And although I quite liked the idea (teaching 4 to 5 year olds, not too threatening) I really felt I should leverage my internet skills. Plus I liked the idea of being different.

My first opportunity presented itself  a couple of weeks ago when we received a note from school announcing the redesign of the website. I contacted the principal to find out if they needed help, and after a pleasant meeting, it transpired that they would welcome my input, and I felt certain I could add a lot of value by helping the school manage the project and their web agency. I was told that there was a real shortage of internet skills here, and whilst there were good programmers and designers (mostly Indian, Pakistani or Filipinos) they were weak in the areas of account/project management, communication (language and cultural differences) and strategy. I was encouraged to hear that my skills would be in big demand and was even told that I should I set-up my own business! So an encouraging start. Plus internet day rates here are some of the highest in the world... Very encouraging indeed. 

However now, for the first time in ages,  I have serious work to do. I need to look at competitors sites, review draft designs, digest the brief and prepare myself for a meeting with the web designer. Although I'm procrastinating, I'm actually quite excited, and ultimately hope to make a good impression and gain some references, to then move onto (highly) paid consulting work. Sounds simple enough...

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Day 23 - Our Monday, your Saturday

16.5.09 - It's Saturday here, which is the beginning of the week for us. Weekends in Saudi are Thursday and Friday. Takes a while (quite a while) to get one's head around it. Friday nights are now Wednesday nights, Monday mornings are now Saturday mornings. You get the picture. 

Last night with had an unexpected visit, a lovely South African couple from the villa opposite ours, who wanted to introduce themselves. She is 8.5 months pregnant with her first child, and refreshingly relaxed about her pregnancy and giving birth here. She was in fact more concerned about me! And wanted to assure me that I could go to her if I needed any help or had any questions. Her husband and Dirk are 'outdoor smokers' so often find themselves having a cigarette together. Next thing I know, they have brought over some of the famous but as yet unseen or tasted 'own brew', the latest batch we are told not as good as the previous. Nevertheless, I'm very impressed, it smells, and tastes just like r*d w**e. The method is so simple: yeast, grape juice and sugar in a plastic resealable container (large water container will do). The liquid needs to let air out but not in so a pipe is attached to the opening of the container and dipped into a jug of water at the other end. Leave alone for 3 weeks, et voila. Dirk can't wait to get going. After 3 weeks of alcohol free living, I can feel the pleasant effect of the drink after a few sips. Nice way to end the weekend. And adds a merry note to the routine of bath, teeth, story and bed. With the added steps of moisturising the children's skin as it gets terribly dried out and itchy, turning on air con and plugging in mosquito repellent device. By 8, the children are in bed, exhausted after hours of swimming. Dirk is skyping, and I tuck into a good book (Eye of the Needle). Another day gone, and it still feels just like a holiday. 

Day 22 - Chop Chop Square

15.5.09 - This week-end has been action-packed (by our standards). Early on Thursday (to get the most done before 12 o'clock prayer time), I was picked up by Marina (and her driver), and we headed to one of Riyadh's many Souks. Marina is Iraki, married to an English man, and they have lived here on and off for 11 years. She has a larger than life personality, and is a force to be reckoned, as I discovered later on. She had jewellery to sell and commission and so we headed off to Dirrah, the Gold Souk right next to 'Chop Chop Square'. This is where, I was shocked to find out, public executions still take place. Anyone can go, including children, and I've been told for some it's a family outing. The only rule: no photos.  Who would want to go and watch someone having their hands or worse their head chopped off I can't imagine, it makes me sick just to think about it, but foreigners do go, and are pushed up right to the front. I think the locals like to see if they will faint or not. However,  the crime rate in Saudi, is one of the lowest in the world. Food for thought. 

Chop Chop Square

Marina took me under her wing and I was quite happy to follow in her shadows while she busied herself with her various dealings. We stopped at a few jewellery stores, mostly owned by Arabs from Yemen (Yemenise?) all of which she knew by name.  She embarked on her negotiations, which I observed she handled with a powerful blend of humour, assertiveness, charm and patience, with a pinch of Diva-like behaviour. Quite amusing. But patience is key, and the negotiations can wear you down (that's the strategy). A deal can take hours (i'm told). And so it's highly recommended to come here 'off peak', ie. week-ends.  

Meanwhile, I was quite taken aback by the casual manipulation of various gems - rubies, emeralds, saphires, left lying on the counter, or casually picked up and carried away. Crime is very low here (thanks to Chop Chop Square) so there is literally no security, cameras, alarms, security guards. nothing. The stores are wide open and the atmosphere is very relaxed. There was much talk about Saudi Diamonds, and when one of the owners casually picked up from a display a diamond the size of a ping pong ball, my heart skipped a beat, surely not, this cannot be one I think it is, I know Saudi is a rich country and has many natural resources, but diamonds that big? Later, when I researched this, it turned out that Saudi Diamonds are in effect Crystal. Such a novice!

Marina and I having a snack in between Souks, 

blissfully unaware that I'm breaking the law by showing my ankles. 

Most of the things we saw - furniture, cloths, pashminas, jewellery, carpets, all seems to come from neighbouring countries. Apart from Rosewood furniture, and some of the gold, i couldn't find much that originated from Saudi which I found a little disappointing. But this is just one small part of a myriad of Souks, so I hope to go back and explore further. 

We made it back to the car just as 12 o'clock prayer started, and headed back to Eid (our compound) which involved the usual double car sequence, ie. we stop at outer security gate, get out and wait for compound car to take us in (only residents are allowed to bring their cars in). 

Day 18 - an easy life (warning you may not want to read this)

11.5.09 - Today, many things have fallen into place and I can't believe how easy life has become, compared to London and compared to the past few weeks. For all of you with children and/or stressful lives, you may not want to read this, or do, if you are thinking of moving out here. 

The children now take the compound bus to their school, it's free, there's a monitor on board who makes sure all the children are accounted for and are wearing their seat belts, and it departs at 7.30am, very close to our house so the children can walk to it alone. The children also take the bus back from school (which is also a great advantage as they finish at different times). Saving: compared to London I'm now saving at least 10 hours a week in school runs. I still find it strange to be pottering around the house and suddenly Oliver will appear, home from school. 

wave pool and slide - 30 seconds away

Rosalie now goes to the compound Montessori every morning 3 minutes walk away. It's well staffed, cost effective and she gets a chance to mix with lots of other children. Which means I have my mornings free, hurray! I collect her around 12 and we come back home, have lunch together and she has a snooze. 

If I need food, there's a little supermarket on the compound, one minute away, they have all the basics, and they deliver if I'm too lazy to carry. If there is a problem with the house, I just call maintenance with electricians, carpenters, plumbers, etc on tap to come and fix things, at no cost. They'll put pictures up, change plugs, service air conditioning units, etc etc. They turn up on a bicycle with their tool box mounted on the back and it's amazing what they can fix with a few simple tools.

When the children come back they do their homework (Seb has surprisingly little) and then they are off. They play outside, scoot around the compound, hook up with other children or we all go to the pool together which is 30 seconds away and is practically a private pool, a handful of people use it as there are many others dotted around the compound. The children are now friends with with some of our neighbours and people's doors are usually open, so we're in and out of each others houses. It's all very informal. I usually hang out at the pool playing with the children and chatting to other mums until Dirk comes back (around 5.30pm - he starts at 6.30am so it's a long day for him). We'll then head back to the house for dinner, or to someone else'shouse for a group dinner. 

view from our back door

Compound life is quite unique way of living, cross between a holiday resort and a gated community, a lot of the time is spent outdoors and this has many benefits. The children get plenty of exercise, they don't fight as much, they get to meet and play with other children (much more fun than playing with siblings), the house doesn't get dirty or messy nearly as quickly and you have company if you want it. 

Socialising and meeting people is effortless, everyone is relaxed, also keen to make friends and there is an interesting mix of nationalities and life stories. There are also many activities and outings on offer: Bridge evenings, parties, book groups, shopping outings, coffee mornings, cake sales, etc.  There's a gym on the compound, yoga and pilates classes, a bowling alley, tennis and squash courts, playgounds, and a huge wave pool with an impressive spiraling slide. All free. The rent (which is sky high due to shortages of accommodation on Western villas) includes the use of all the facilities. There's also a hairdresser, beauty salon, dry cleaning, DVD rental shop and restaurant. We've yet to use any of the facilities, we've been happy hanging around the pool so far.

We have a lady from the Philipines starting tomorrow who will do cleaning and ironing. Some people have full time maids, I drew the line at 3 half days a week. One day a week she'll cook us a Filipino meal. Saving: having a cleaner, and spending so much time outside probably saves Dirk and I about 20 hours of household chores a week. 

Before leaving, when I first talked to people about life in compounds, I was quite convinced it was not my type of thing. I would be bored, wanted more from life than hanging around the pool getting my nails done. But I am enjoying it thoroughly (have not had my nails done!), the simplicity of it, the easy socialising, the children's freedom and independence, the much reduced mindless chores, and I have so much more time and headspace.  It's peaceful here and hard not to enjoy.  I know that soon  I will want to add another dimension to my expat bubble, and hope to meet local Saudis, get to know their culture, and hopefully leverage my skills and experience to find interesting work. But for the moment it still all feels like a holiday and I'm making the most of it. 

Next posting: it's not all rosy here, and there have been and will be more challenges....

      

Oli has lost all inhibitions - jumping into 

our local pool, 15 seconds away

    

Seb, as mad as ever

Day 14: Paradise

7.5.09 - I’m in heaven, finally we’ve moved into our own place on a Western compound. No more dirty carpets, old plumbing, leaking taps and dark mosquito infested rooms. After 2 weeks in a run down serviced apartment, isolated, having to take taxis everywhere, to and from school, and everything in between, no one to talk to and nothing to do within walking distance. You get the picture. Our new home is heaven. Modest by Saudi standards but big by our London standards, we are relishing the bright spacious rooms, the cleanliness of it all, the 3 bathrooms, the taps that work, the abundant storage space, the feeling that we can start our new life. Within hours we’ve met some new friendly people, with invitations to shopping trips, coffee mornings and bridge. The central Noticeboard is covered with activities on offer, Pilates (yes please), Arabic for beginners (maybe), a Hummer 2 for sale (we’re very tempted) and lots more. 

Our lovely home, admittedly rather ugly on the outside, which is a shame because there is lots of impressive Arabic architecture around, is sparsely furnished with only bare essentials. So we decide to head off to get some bare essentials, plates, glasses, etc to get us through until our shipment arrives from London. And there is only one place to go to get that kind of thing, yes it’s Ikea. We grab a taxi and make our way to Ikea Riyadh, which is surprisingly similar to the London one, except for a few minor differences. Pricing is in Arabic (and gobbledygook to us), and only sporadically translated into English, and the restaurant is divided up into family rooms. This is quite common (even Starbucks have them) and it allows women to eat in privacy so that they can take off their head gear without god forbid another man seeing them. The food is delicious and we gorge ourselves on fresh salads (hard to come by), bottomless pepsis and freshly squeezed orange juice. There’s even a hot dog takeaway place at the exit, also serving shish kebabs, divided into two queues, one male and one female. As usual, we end up buying far more than our list, including a very large ironing board which we know is not going to fit in the boot of the taxi… But hey ho, that’s Ikea for you, it makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do!

Back at the ranch, which involves some complicated double taxi sequence, to get through the high security of our compound (normal taxis are not allowed to come into compound, so we have to drive up to the outside gate, take all our shopping out including very large ironing board, stand like right plonkers in the middle of the street, and wait for the taxi compound to turn up to take us through into our Western sanctuary).

Once home, we decide to head to the pool, 50 metres away. It’s amazing to be able to just walk out of our back yard, and within minutes be splashing around a pool. We notice some alcohol on a table nearby, a bottle of gin and some white wine. First time I see alcohol since I’ve arrived, although I haven’t missed it a bit. I can’t even tell that the alcohol-free beer has no alcohol, after a long hot day, it tastes just delicious. But clearly alcohol can be bought, illegally of course, and I’ve been told at great expense. It’s now 6.30pm, Dirk and I are lying on our deck chairs by the pool, the children are running around having fun, the sun is setting, the moon is coming up, we’re sipping our beers, and there’s a perfect warm wind blowing over our cold swimming pool soaked bodies. We can hear in the distance the call to prayer. This is our life now, and we’re loving it.

To finish off the day, I get a phone call, a maid who works for a few other families. Do I need her? She can iron, cook, clean, look after the children, for £4 an hour negotiable. Um, let me think about it…..

Day 2: On the hunt

25.4.09 - This morning was decided to go on a mosquito killing spree. Based on the number of Oliver’s spots, we calculated that if every mosquito bites once, there must be about 50 mosquitoes in the flat. So the children and I, armed with books and magazines went hunting around, determined to kill as many as possible, they had caused us so much grief. Despite turning up the air cons so cold that we needed duvets, they still bit us. They also bite during the day so we are never safe. Well, it was not a success, we only got 3.

Our first trip to the supermarket was quite interesting. A french supermarket called Carrefour, It was fairly large and was not so different looking to ones at home. There was definitely not as much choice, ie. We couldn’t find 15 different varieties of potatoes, but they had potatoes. That kind of thing. They are big into their fresh natural yoghurts, so there was a whole aisle of those. And same with fresh cheese that looks like Feta. The only fruit of veg we could find that had been grown in Saudi were cucumbers, the rest was all imported. And didn’t look terribly fresh, but then I think we’re quite spoilt in England. We saw our first signs censorship, where products with photos with ladies showing flesh (eg. Swimsuits, fitness equipment) had been coloured in with a black marker. Same with product descriptions, we bought a bottle of Olive Oil, which had something like this on the label “the devoted Italian women hand pressed…”, and the words ‘devoted women’ had been blacked out in pen. Must have taken them ages.  We found lots of alcohol free beer, which actually tastes surprisingly good. We only saw men working at the tills, in fact I don’t remember seeing any women working since my arrival. The challenge with shopping are the opening times. Shops open mornings, then close between 12 and 4pm, they then open until late (10 or 11pm I think) but close for prayer, several times throughout the evening for about 20 minutes but never at exactly the same time. During prayer time, you could be stranded in the shop (all workers are required to leave their post, we're not sure if they actually go praying or not but that's the idea), with no one at the till, or asked to leave the shop. At that point you can wait outside for 20 minutes or forget the whole thing. Even Starbucks closes, outrageous!

Day 1: False alert

24.4.09 - We decide to go out and get some breakfast. We all get ready, I put on my Abaya, the children wear their summer clothes and we step out of the apartment. And boy oh boy, it is so hot already, it’s only spring and mid morning but it’s at least 35 degrees in the shade, of which there is very little. We bravely make our way to the breakfast place which is about 15 minutes away. 

We walk down a couple of residential streets and are struck by A: there is absolutely no one around, no cars, no people, nothing. And B, the houses are ginormous and all look like mini palaces; grand, beautifully decorated, and very impressive.

<-- one of the many large nearby houses - probably owned by a fairly well-to-do Arab family

But our enthusiasm starts to fade as we struggle with the heat. By the time we get to the hotel we have all (except for Dirk who doesn’t do pink, he just goes brown), turned an unattractive blotchy, shiny pink, and with the children’s puffy spots, Oli’s deformed ear, and Rosalie’s swollen eye (from mosquito bite) we’re definitely a sad looking lot. The cool air conditioned reception is divine and I can’t bear to leave it. We park ourselves on some lavish chairs around a little table and quickly leech onto the wireless connection to check emails (we don’t have any connection in the apartment).  We order some more gorgeous fresh fruit cocktails, mine is lemon and mint and absolutely divine.

We then move to the pool area, I knew that women can only swim fully clothed and decided I wasn’t brave enough yet to swim in my Abaya (science was never my strong subject, and I thought that there may be a chance that my Abaya if immersed in water would float and end up round my neck, and that would cause quite a stir). So I stayed in the shade while the children played in the water. Saudi’s are definitely not keen on nudity of any kind, even children are covered, not entirely but often wear t-shirts and long shorts (girls and boys). Again, we were the only whites around, and the Saudi children looked at us with interest. It soon started to get quite windy, and little by little people were leaving the pool, some holding their scarves round their mouths. It became dusty too and I started wondering if we were about to be hit by a sand storm. And if so, would anyone come and tell me, and how long does a sand storm take to build up, and how serious is it to be outside when it arrives… I decided to be sensible and packed everything up quite quickly and ushered everyone back in inside. There was no sand storm in the end. Just lots of wind and that invariably stirs up sand from all around Riyadh. Ironically Arabs hate sand apparently hence the rapid departure from the pool.

Day 0: We've made it

21.4.09 - We've arrived in Riyadh (means 'garden' in arabic), capital of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.  I now have a different life in a very different world. The people, the weather, the architecture, the landscape, shops, social norms, the pace, the way people dress, the food, everything has changed.

Our arrival and journey from plane to exit is surprisingly straightforward. I quickly put on my Abaya and head gear on before leaving the plane and glide through the airport quite liking the feel of it. Having heard stories of intimidating officials, and strict censorship customs, I was expecting at least a luggage check but nothing. We were even invited to jump the very long snail paced passport control queue because we had children. But once out in the main airport hall, the differences start to hit. The crowd of people waiting is 99% male, and 100% Arabic. Most are wearing their traditional attire: white long tobes with a red and white chequered head set (shma) with black ring. I feel again out of place but as men are not allowed to stare at another man’s wife, I’m pretty much left alone and I don’t feel intimated. It took over an hour for the hotel’s taxi to find us, not sure why exactly, despite numerous phone calls (via a third party as the taxi driver didn’t speak English) there appeared to be a misunderstanding as to our exact location in the airport. Anyhow, when it did turn up the car was too small, we have so much luggage we had to take two taxis to Heathrow that morning and had checked in 13 items of luggage! So although we had asked for a people carrier, this standard Ford turned up and there was no way we were going to all everything in. It seems that this is how life is here, things are u

npredictable, you ask for one thing and get another. After causing some commotion as various taxi drivers tried to entice us in their equally small cars, we finally managed to find a people carrier, blissfully air conditioned, and we all piled in.  It’s a miracle that nothing got lost out of the 20 or so various items we were carrying with us. 

We arrive at our serviced apartments, and marvel at the size, everything is big, high ceilings, large spacious rooms. Space is not at a premium here and everything is spread out, roads are wide, houses are big. We calculate that the children’s bedroom is probably the size of the first floor of our house in London. And this is not a particularly upmarket place. Very quickly the place looks like a bombsite as various things get unpacked and spread around. 

<-- our apartment block

Next challenge, getting some food, we haven’t had anything to eat in 8 hours so we enquire about food and are handed over some take away menus. But as we look through the menus, the only thing we can make out is a Dominos logo, everything else is in Arabic, even the phone numbers. One of the porters kindly converts the phone numbers and as Dominos weren’t answering their phone (something else to get used to), we decide to go with some local food and order things at random as we have no idea what’s what. We’re in for a bit of a surprise when the food turns up as it takes 4 people to bring it all in. We have a banquet on our hands! There’s enough for a dozen people but it’s delicious, divine fresh juice smoothies, naan style bread, kebabs, houmous, aubergine paste, bright pink pickled vegetables and some other vegetable assortments. Boy did we enjoy it. 

That pretty much ends the day, we’re all off to bed after that, Rosalie is on a mattress on the floor (we decided to leave the travel cot behind to limit our luggage weight) which she loves as she can get up and wonder around as she pleases. Takes a while to get her settled but she is so tired she finally collapses. Same with the parents. Morning starts early, as I hear Rosalie wondering around the apartment in the dark at 4am UK time, she’s looking for us and I find her at the front door trying to get out! Dirk kindly does the early morning shift, while we all try and get more sleep. Seb is next, in true Seb style he wakes up in a real state convinced he is being attacked by a swarm of insects, and is adamant that he can hear buzzing inside his head. I send him back and tell him it’s all a bad dream Unfortunately when the children wake up, I realise that we’ve got some company, and they sure had a feast during the night, Seb and Rosalie get off lightly but poor Oliver is covered in large ugly mosquito bites, we counted 40 in total including one on his ear which has caused it to swell up and turn a deep red.  Poor Oli, he doesn’t complain though.

Day -1: An unusual visit

22.4.09 - My first taste of Saudi culture was my visit to the Saudi Embassy in London to get our visas. I turn up there only to be told that I have the wrong paperwork, a common theme in our numerous attempts to get visas organised, so I ask to see the Deputy Consul whose name I had been given as a contact. After a thumbs up from security, I am given a pass and told to go to the second floor. I make my way up, alone, and swipe myself in. I end up in an long deserted corridor with lots of doors, and standing there in the very heart of the Saudi embassy I start feeling a little awkward, What I’m supposed to do? I walk around a bit, trying not to look suspicious, thinking this is a high security building, and here I am wondering around the consul's offices. Luckily a Saudi lady comes along, and kindly leads me to the consul’s office. By then It’s become clear that I stand out like a sore thumb, I’m the only white, and the only one showing flesh, albeit a modest amount between knee and ankle, and I feel completely out of place. I enter the office and neither the consul or I know whether to shake hands so we awkwardly shuffle around a bit on either side of his desk until he decides that it’s OK for me to sit and makes me feel welcome. The chair I’m sitting in is set-up in such a way that I’m not actually facing his desk or him but facing the door so I’m at a strange angle and have to turn round to talk to him. This is, to my knowledge, my first close encounter with a Saudi man. Although he looks stern, he does get the visas organised pretty quickly and I realise that he has done us a big favour when a subtle request for a favour from me is requested…. he would like to practice English with my family!!! We’re still working on that one...

Day -35: Unusual shopping in Shepherds Bush Market

19.3.09 - Tomorrow I’m doing something that I’ve never done before, I am going shopping for an Abaya.A black nylon heat absorbing body bag which will hide warts and all, my body from the neck down. No more worries about what to wear for the school run, in fact no need to get dressed for the school run, slip on your abaya on top of your pyjamas if you fancy, and off you go.

Plus, I’ll need a scarf to cover my hair (no need to cover my face I believe).

So I’m thinking, what will be left of me to see? Well none of my elusive assets that’s for sure. Just my glasses and a heat flushed sweaty face. Nice. However, I’m not vain so of course it won’t matter…

<-- Abi and I in Shepherds Bush Market

The purchase of my first abaya is going to be a fun and memorable event, my good friend Abi and I are going to Shepherds Bush market to check out the styles. I think I’ll get 2, a plain black one, and preferably in a breathable material like silk or cotton? I hope to get some advice there… And a funky one, with embroidery at the bottom of the sleeves which I believe is allowed.

Shopping aside, I have two weeks to pack up the rest of the house which involves picking up every single object, examining it, and deciding whether to:         

a. bin it

         b. store it

         c. ship it to Saudi

         d. bring it to Saudi in hand luggage

         e. give it to a good cause (friend, family, freecycle)

         f. deal with it later, because I can’t decide

 Considering we’ve lived in our house for 10 years and Dirk and I are both hoarders…

 Oh, and as well as packing, I need to:

a.   finalise the sale of the business and seek very creative tax adviser to minimise tax bill

b.   finish house renovations and get house ready for new tenants (luckily great friends of ours)

c.    inform all relevant parties we are leaving which is no mean feat (try telling the TV Licencing  people that you are moving - if the licence is in your husbands name they will refuse to take instructions)

d.   and of course be a perfect mum – at all times

 It’s hard at this point to see beyond all this and think about life in Riyadh. I have visions of extreme heat, rolling sand dunes, camel meat, home brew, dust, and fancy shopping malls.