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.