Routine...of sorts

Well, the 2-days promise finally turned into a 2-week reality. Exactly 2 weeks after arriving in Riyadh, I was finally moved into my new flat. (Please note, however, that this was the very next day after our female invasion at our head office.) Still minus furniture, though. It seems that the owner of the furniture company with whom they had a contract took the money and ran away to Egypt. We are all wondering whether he will return. On a more positive note, at least I have some second-hand furniture which was borrowed from somewhere in the form of a bed, some bedroom furniture and a few chairs. The appliances are all new, including a washing machine and kitchen appliances. Still, I am grateful for small mercies, since it definitely beats living out of a suitcase in a noisy hotel for 2 weeks!

On the work front, my students are the best I've ever had the privilege of working with. They continue to impress me with their hard work and willingness to learn English. Many of them are married with children, but they are at college 5 days a week, in class till 9 o'clock at night. It's tiring, but we manage to laugh and have fun, while learning from one another.

And so, life is finally settling down into a sort of routine. This past weekend was quiet, with no crazy adventures....Well, if you call fighting with a twin-tub washing machine in a small bathroom with a disobedient outlet pipe, and a couple of unwanted, dirty-water showers thrown in, adventure, then I guess adventure is what I had!

Fighting and Warnings

Last week, one of my colleagues asked me if I wanted to get arrested, to which I most vociferously retorted, “YES! I'd LOVE to be arrested!!!”, just as we opened the front door of the head office of our company.


Prior to that, I had been complaining quite loudly about the unfair treatment of women here compared to men. I had been badmouthing Saudi men, in the middle of a shopping mall, much to the chagrin of my two fellow female colleagues, as men's heads were quickly turning in our direction at my loudly audacious public behaviour. And just in case you're wondering, NO, I did NOT get up on the wrong side of the bed.

I had been quite all right just 5 minutes prior to all this madness. The toilet in my hotel room had become blocked just that morning, and as I was waiting for the bus to pick me up for this meeting, I was talking to the manager about it. We happened to be discussing it as the bus pulled up. One of my colleagues on the bus (a mid-Western American) started yelling at me to get on the bus NOW! Now this is what annoyed the living daylights out of me. I concluded my business, and boarded the bus, very pointedly explaining that I had been sorting out the details of having the toilet unblocked. To which she insisted that I would get into serious trouble for standing on the street, talking to a man, if caught by the religious police. To which I retorted that I had been INSIDE the hotel, NOT on the street (thank-you very much!) and were they actually going to throw me in jail for trying to have my toilet unblocked?!

And thus, followed my anti-Saudi men tirade for the next 5 minutes, till we entered the office of the General Director of the company that hired me. The men there didn't know what hit them. We were 3 very angry women, with legitimate grievances (between the long wait for accommodation and office supplies at our workplace – Saudi time, of course). By the time we left, they were attempting to smile and be polite by telling us to pop in again, any time, but you could tell that these offers were made out of courtesy only, while their faces were saying, “Oh God! Please, never again!”

The following day, I had to go and buy some facial cleanser as by this time, my little travel pack was almost empty. Imagine my utter surprise at being faced with a male salesperson (yes, for cosmetics!). It was the first time in my life that I've had to buy facial cleanser from a man, wearing the same white coat that all female beauticians wear, so neatly buttoned up! It was all I could do to stop from laughing at the poor guy. Instead, I proceeded to fight with him. Yes, I know, fighting with men, in Saudi Arabia, again. I refused to accept that he might actually know a thing or two about the difference between the various Clinique product ranges. Really? I wanted to ask him whether he actually uses the product on himself? And how much does he know about a woman's beauty regimen? Does he even understand the difference between cleanser, toner and moisturiser? It really didn't help things when he tried to push moisturiser on me, when I wanted cleanser!!! And so, of course, I found myself almost shouting at this hapless fellow, who just continued to try and sell me foundation next, by squeezing little blobs on my hand. Honestly! And after all this, he then asked me what I use on my hair, how lovely it is, could I give him my number, and “Your husband? Problem or no problem?” To which, I replied, “YES! My husband, problem!” Huh!? For real? You've got a snowball's chance in hell, mister-sister! (I think that must have been the first time that I started referring to Kevin as my husband, instead of as my fiance! So UNromantic!)

And so, after a week of fighting with men, and as many warnings against doing so, I think I am finally calming down. Calmed down, but still refusing to be oppressed and suppressed!

2 minutes, 2 days

A few years ago, when I was studying Theatre-Making at university, one of my classmates created a short skit called "2 Minutes". It poked fun at the now quite un-politically correct term of AFRICAN TIME. In South Africa, the idea of African Time translates as a total disregard for punctuality and common respect for your fellow man who operates on the Western concept of time-keeping, often resulting in despairing pull-your-hair-out-with-loud-heavy-sighs moments for said punctual person. You were considered lucky if your assurance of 2 minutes manifested in 2 hours.

Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to SAUDI TIME! I have been here for a week and a half now, and since I arrived, I have been told "2 days". This 2-days-response is in answer to "When can I move out of this noisy hotel into my apartment?" (An apartment which was promised in the contract signed by both parties.) Please note, "2 days" is the same reply to the same question, every 2 days!

Apparently, it's the company supplying the furniture that is the hold-up. Before that, it was the satellite TV company holding up the satellite dish installation. Before that, it was the delivery of electrical appliances. Before that, the walls must have been to blame, before that? Who knows? The plot of land? On the plus-side, when I eventually get there, I'll be moving into a brand new building. I've heard it said that good things take time! Let's keep our fingers and toes crossed.

So, if African Time means that 2 minutes equal 2 hours, does Saudi Time mean that 2 days actually means 2 weeks? I'll keep you posted....

I Am In Trouble!

I am in all sorts of trouble! .... What happened? I went shopping.

Trouble #1:
My friend took me to the gold souk this morning. Jewelry is ridiculously cheap here! Oh, my Goodness! I managed to pick out a prospective wedding band. Stunning, beautiful, unique white gold and diamonds, for less than half what it would cost in South Africa! I can already see myself going gold-crazy. Trouble....

Trouble #2:
Abaya, abaya, I buy a abaya....I finally have my full ninja kit! Walking around with my hair and face uncovered has been getting me way too much male attention. So, I decided to buy a niqab, a veil that covers your face, so only your eyes show. You should see the women here who cover up in this way. They actually have a sense of power about them. Those eyes glancing this way and that makes you wonder about the thoughts behind them. There is definitely an air of mystery about these women. The men think they have the power, actually, the women seem to be laughing at them from behind their veils! I am more than happy to finally veil myself, if only to stave off all this male attention. The only problem now is that I am already itching to get more abayas, with all the trim and various embroidery. Trouble....

Trouble #3:
The souk. The souk spells trouble for me. I walked into this little store that sells snacks, sweets and chocolates. Again, they seem to have everything from everywhere. Just the same as it tastes back home. Not adjusted, or sweetened like they do in the Far East. I was so happy to find AERO chocolates! And guess what? They even had Easter eggs! Salt and Vinegar Lays (which is almost impossible to find in Korea and China). Turkish Delight in every flavour under the sun: stuffed with pistachios, pomegranate seeds, chocolate, etc, etc. Trouble....

Trouble #4:
Clothing. Of course, I will have NO problems buying underwear, clothes and shoes here. They have just my style; beautiful, colourful hippy style Indian dresses and tops. Not to mention the shopping malls. Canal Walk in Cape Town is run of the mill here. All the designer labels and latest Western fashion are readily available, and they will fit the larger woman!!! (They even have MR PRICE HOME here!) Trouble....

Trouble #5:
Next, we went to a Carrefour for some grocery shopping. Once I was there, I realised that I'd be OK in Saudi Arabia. Carrefour Shanghai had been a huge improvement on grocery shopping in South Korea. Carrefour Riyadh makes the Shanghai ones look like a street market. It's spotlessly clean and well-organised with loads of room compared to Shanghai. In Shanghai, you'll see dried pigs' heads, fish guts and spilled water from the fish tanks on the floor, plus people constantly pointing and staring at you. This here, in Riyadh, is heaven! No one bothers you. They go about their business, doing their own thing. Everything you could possibly want, is here and readily available. Fresh fruit and vegetables from EVERYWHERE! Food items from Lebanon, Italy, Australia, New Zealand, China. You name it, they have it. They even had lovely, big mangoes from South Africa! And, of course, all the spices you'd need. Basically, when Saudis want something, it should be available whenever they want it. Hence, the huge variety and mountains of options. If you're a foodie or just love cooking, this is your paradise! Trouble....

Trouble #6:
I am in love with this Arabian bakery we went to. We went to get some cake at this lovely not-so-little place. They had little trays of nuts and seeds, dried fruits, miniature biscuits and baklavas, mini-savoury snack platters on these lovely metal trays, ready for you to pick up and take for your catering event. Cakes and croissants, and, and, and..... I LOVE the presentation! Trouble.....

See? I am in ALL sorts of trouble here!

Uncloaking and Unveiling in Riyadh

So after having been ensconced in this little self-catering suite for the night, I woke up early this morning in order to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. And I waited, and waited, and waited..... for a call that never came.The driver from last night had told me that he would call me this morning with a pick-up time. Now, I had no food, except for some shortbread biscuits from home, and some water. When I got the duty manager to help me call a restaurant to order some breakfast, I was told that I had to order for at least 60 Saudi riyal (about R125). Also, I couldn't make any 'outside' phone calls from my room. And I had not yet got a Saudi sim card, so I couldn't contact anyone that way. By the time it got to 11:30, I was furious, and crying, and asking how I could have done this to myself. How could I have put myself in this situation? I was too scared to leave in case I missed the call, and also because I wasn't sure whether I was allowed to walk around alone. Would I get into trouble? Offend the religious police? I knew what I was letting myself in for, coming here, but it's another thing experiencing having to sit around and wait on a man. Extremely frustrating!

Thank Goodness, I have working wi-fi in my room, so I could communicate with people that way. My Knight-in-Shining-Armour-Kevin made a call to my site director to ask him what was going on. This dear gentleman aplogised and assured me that this was NOT supposed to have happened to me. In the meantime, my dear friend, Thube from SA, just happened to be off sick today, and she came online, called her personal driver and drove for 30 minutes just to come give me a hug, even though she was hobbling around on crutches post-knee surgery! She took me to get connected and get some food in me, and then it was time for my pick-up for my first day at work.

Everyone at my company was by now emailing and calling one another, since I had sent an email telling them all that I wasn't impressed and was feeling abandoned! (I know it all sounds a bit dramatic, but hey, you had be here in my shoes to understand!) Anyway, I met four lovely ladies with whom I am to work. After a nice little communal moan-and-groan, I felt much better. One of the ladies took me to a souk (market), where I got fitted for an abaya. Now for some comedy....

Only men work in stores. It's only in the last few months, that a law was passed that only allows women to work in lingerie stores! So, here was my next challenge: being fitted for an abaya by a man, in a store run by men, which means we women should remain covered at all times. So, I fitted on an abaya which we thought might be the right fit. It was, but it's always best to have an extra bit of room. So can you imagine what happened next? I had to stand there and let these men ogle my assets to see whether it was too tight! Oh, the humiliation! Never mind the ridiculous way I had to fit it on in the first place. I was expected to somehow achieve this whilst keeping my burka on and in place! One cannot do this alone. So there I was, exclaiming loudly how ridiculous this all was, standing there with one sleeve on under my burka, and trying to find the other sleeve amidst the burka folds, while my colleague was trying to shield the rest of me that was already quite well concealed. What could I do? I felt like stripping off all my clothes to really give them something to look at! Of course, if I had entertained that rebellious thought, I don't think I'd be typing this right now. Isn't it ironic how rebellious I feel since arriving in this country?

Anyway, on to more pleasant experiences....I came home and ordered a box of food to keep in the fridge. I have also made firm friends with the night manager here, by unveiling myself to him. Heehee. This is not as bad as it sounds. Basically, I just decided to go uncloaked and bareheaded to the front desk (the rebel in me, I know!) Unfortunately, it was almost prayer time, and the poor guy was trying to usher me out of sight, so no one would see me that way! And then the flirting began. Turns out he is Egyptian, told me I look very Egyptian, asked if I'm married, that he is single and wants to marry a South African! Don't worry, I am keeping my door chained tonight!

Till next time!

Rebellion and Cloaking in the Gulf

Well, well, well.......After spending two days of eating and resting in a nice international 4-star hotel in Bahrain, and being able to run around the streets in my tights, and falling asleep to loud club beats outside on the street, while other hotel guests were drinking and partying it up with exotic dancers, it was crunch time, or rather cloak time. The hotel owner/manager drove me to the airport himself, and advised me to cover up before boarding, for convenience sake. He admitted that while he himself was a practising Muslim, he preferred liberal and multi-faith Bahrain over Islam-ruled Saudi Arabia.

And so it was that I found myself wedged into a small toilet stall at the airport, desperately trying to manouvre myself and all my hair into a burka along with a small suitcase and my handbag and trying not to get the ends of my burka in the toilet bowl! Oy vey! Not even in Saudi yet, and the comic antics have already begun. Now came the fun part, trying to manouvre my burka-clad self out of the toilet stall, and trying to free my arms to wash my hands. Prior to getting cloaked, I had felt a slight thrill whilst walking through the airport, a frisson of glee at being rebellious in the Gulf, as this part of the world fondly calls itself. I felt invincible, even disdainful of others all covered up. I'm sure it was all in my head, though, as I was not the only woman there unclad in Saudi fashion. However, after bravely exiting the bathroom, it felt like all eyes were on me. Gosh! How self-conscious I felt! Again, all in my own head, I'm sure. It also did NOT help that I felt like a walking tent, as my burka encompassed both my handbag and suitcase! LOL! I need to get an abaya ASAP! Of course, I had tried to find one in Cape Town, and believe me, there are no shortages of abayas, but none would fit me. They were all made for skinny girls. Meanwhile, Kevin had been telling me that I am skinny compared to Saudi women. So, obviously the abayas in Cape Town are not made for people going to Saudi! Hmmph! I had eventually allowed someone to talk me into making me a full-length burka, which really just made me look and feel like a tent. The women in their abayas, on the other hand, look so elegant and regal here. While all I see when I look in the mirror, is face and glasses. I feel like a bug under a microscope! So what did I decide to do? I decided to continue believing that “I am invincible, I am woman!” (refer Sex and the City 2, karaoke scene in Abu Dhabi). I walked slower, with my nose in the air and pretended to be disdainful of those NOT covered up! Those shameless women!

(What is an abaya? Basically, it's a long black dress with sleeves that is worn over their regular clothes. They have them embroidered with elaborate designs or simply wear them plain. They are all basically black, however.) Mission One on arrival in Riyadh: abaya, abaya, I buy a abaya!

And so, I now find myself feeling like a fool, writing this email. My notebook is perched on my lap, and my burka is hitched up around it, exposing my hands and the lower half of my body. Hopefully, it will be accepted in Saudi Arabia.

Speaking of rebellion, I just got a thrill from crossing my legs, and exposing an ankle! LOL! I think I might have some fun after all!

The next two hours.... After finally getting my cloaked self on board almost without tripping, I then managed to embarrass myself by getting my burka caught in the handle of my carry-on case while trying to place it in the overhead compartment. Next, try eating with a burka stuck under your butt, and the taut end pulling on your eating hand! I think I need to write a book about this. It never ends!
After successfully clearing Immigration and Customs in Riyadh, I walked out to meet the driver appointed to collect me. Instead I was faced with a sea of leering men. I felt so self-conscious that I wished I was cloaked from top to toe, eyes, face, everything! I hastily made my escape to the nearest exit point, unsure whether there were separate exit points for women, since all I could see were men. Eventually, after gathering my wits and confidence again, I saw some women going in the opposite direction, and decided to brave the sea of testosterone. I can appreciate why women here would choose to close up 100%. I think I'll join them in the future. If not, I might get into trouble with the religious police, since I blend in so well here, that people keep speaking Arabic to me. Thankfully, I  soon spotted the company sign, and made contact with the appointed driver. I am waiting for another teacher to arrive before finally getting out of here, and am trying very carefully not to make eye contact with any men every time I look up to see if my driver is ready to leave. I am waiting in the Family Waiting Area. Not being very successful in that regard, since there are men everywhere! Guess I'll have to just keep my eyes downcast, and magically sense when he is ready....

More news of my adventures to follow soon, I'm sure....