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 Very little is available online and the little that is (often on expat sites) often out of date.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)