Part 2

Anes noticed from afar that the petrol station would be closed, and in fact it was shut. A few cars were standing around waiting. We drove on one side in and on the other side out onto the motorway. Great, I thought to myself. This way, I get quicker to sleep. As we were driving with high speed through the night and listened to the calling of the muezzin, I closed my eyes for a brief moment and floated into the weightlessness of a 1001 nights dream. The torture of the almost 2-hour entry into the country was suddenly very distant.

I read somewhere that when you are given a questionnaire on the aeroplane and come to the question about religion, it is an absolute must to mention one, otherwise you might get into trouble and not be let into the country. I thought for a moment to allow myself to make a joke and put down “Pastafarianism”, but then came back the scenes from the dungeon in the film “Midnight Express”. That’s why I obeyed and wrote down Christian.  

Anes’ sentence, ‘Let’s go have breakfast!’ brought me quickly back from my far away fantasies into the cold dawn of Riyadh. Excuse me? Is he serious? I have been awake for over 30 hours, have flown over three continents and want to go as quickly as possible to bed. Besides, I had something to eat on the first flight, paid Burger King at Cairo Airport an extended visit and had the pleasure of eating again on my connecting flight sometime after midnight. My stomach is full and has no room for anything. Forget it! My Philippino was very determined and didn’t take no for an answer. 20 minutes later, after a wild drive over extra wide motorways, we arrived at the hotel. He gave me half an hour to unpack and freshen up.

I saw the first hotels when we exited the motorway and entered a newly built area. Tall buildings made of steel and glass, all the big names, one after another, with fountains, etc. My Philippino had no intention of stopping at one of the big names, but continued driving. Eventually we stopped in front of a building that besides the ground floor, had another two floors. On the facade was the name of the hotel written in big neon letters. Next to it, the telephone number and at the edges some green neon lights going upwards. Oh my God, this box looks like a cheap railway hotel!

The lobby however, offered a completely different picture. Fluffy and cosy. The receptionist jumped out of his sleep, greeted Anes, took the key, gave it to Anes and we got into the lift to the second floor. When he unlocked and opened the room door, my jaw dropped open. What surprised me was not the furnishing, no, although the room was spartanly, but beautifully furnished, it was rather the size that amazed me. What I noticed before on the motorway, I saw it here again. Everything seems to be bigger, larger, wider in this country. The room is huge! No comparison to the tiny rooms we have in Europe or elsewhere. 30sqm are no understatement. Anes went downstairs to the lobby and left me alone. The equipment of the room included: a double bed 2x2, two bedside tables, a flat screen TV, a wardrobe, two armchairs with table, a fridge and a table with a large mirror.

When I opened the door to the bathroom, I, literally speaking, looked into a room. 15sqm! The shower alone was 5sqm!

I briefly glanced into my hotel room before going out to the lift and noticed that there were no radiators. Only air conditioners. Models I had never seen before.  

Downstairs two colleagues of Anes, whom he was on a business trip with, were waiting for me. We had to drive them home before going for breakfast. The two from Bangladesh got into the back of the car and wanted to know everything about me. On the one hand the questioning wasn’t pleasant, mainly because I was tired and wanted to see as much as possible from the surroundings and the landscape and now I couldn’t – after all the sun was slowly rising, on the other hand however, it was good because Anes was driving like a madman and the two Bengalis distracted me. By the time the two got out of the car, it was already light. We drove past construction sites and before I could ask, Anes said, that the whole country is being under construction. The petrodollars are being invested. I was now thrilled of the streets and their superb condition. Well paved and very wide. Even in residential areas. Our streets are 20mph zones, narrow and with many chicanes, here they are 30 feet wide, but with humps, that force you to slow down and even stop. The nasty thing is their colour, which can’t be distinguished from the colour of the road tarmac. Whoever doesn’t see such a hump in time, hurts himself and his car.

As we were dashing through the still empty streets, Anes said that people here drive like maniacs. They race, they honk, they overtake, they squeeze into every little gap they may find, they turn without using the indicator, they drive side by side, they change lanes for no reason, etc. It reminded me on a PlayStation car racing game. Most cars have scratches and bumps.  

We parked in front of a row of local shops and went into a restaurant. Its decoration was very, very simple. White walls with tiles up to a height of almost two metres, metal tables and wooden chairs, paper table cloths, carafes of water and boxes with paper tissues. We went to wash our hands and Anes ordered something that came after less than two minutes. A metal pan filled with lentil soup, pita bread, two teas and two Laban – a sour milk beverage. No use of cutlery, you eat with your fingers. You take small pieces of pita bread and dip it into the lentil soup. The bread becomes practically the spoon. The sour milk is a bit strange and you need to get used to it, I know it from Greece and from my Turkish friends. The tea tasted delicious. It was probably the best tea I’ve ever had. That’s why I ordered a second cup. All around us were only men sitting who looked furtively at me. I could not help myself and took photographs of the breakfast.

Since photography is a critical issue in this country (at least this is what I read in books and blogs), I left my big and heavy Canon DSLR at home and carry my two Blackberries and a small Casio Exilim. It’s less eye-catching.

On the way to the hotel the traffic was a little livelier. Many buses were driving around. I noticed two types: American school buses and old mini buses for about 20 – 25 people, that would never make it through the MOT back home. Anes said that school starts in summer as early as 6am due to the heat, but in these buses people are driven to work. I’ll write about it another time.

When I arrived in my hotel room, I fell dead in bed. As soon as sleep fell upon me, the muezzin began his preaching and carried me away into another world, far away from all that I could see and learn so far in my life.

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    Breakfast

    Pita bread

   Air con