The noise of the road and the voices of the young Arabs make me sleepy and I doze off. Then the bus stops somewhere in a place probably halfway to Rafha. Almost all passengers get out and go in one of the shops around to buy something to eat. Then we stand outside for a while and talk. I start a conversation with the drivers. Both come from Sudan and have been living in Saudi for several years. A few minutes later a few cars stop next to us and a few people get out and drag their luggage to the bus. A few minutes later the drivers call all passengers and the journey continues. Behind me on the last row of seats and opposite me sit some young Arabs. Since they stare at me I try to start a conversation with them. Only one of them knows a few words of English, and this proofs to be more difficult than imagined. They tell me that they are students and are now on the way to Riyadh. They ask me where I'm from, what I do, where I live, etc. After a few minutes however, they have reached their limit, don't know what more to say and ask and have difficulties understanding me, that's why the conversation comes to an end. Then they converse in Arabic and let me listen to my music. A few minutes later one of them shouts: Teacher! Look! And points out the window. A herd of camels. A few minutes later the same: Teacher! Look! A flock of sheep. The whole is repeated a few times and every time there is something to see. Then the others tell him something and he leaves me alone.
I look out the window again, and float away, deep into my thoughts. Their conversation in Arabic makes me sleepy and I travel to the realms of Morpheus.
A few hours later we arrive in Rafha. Next to where the bus stops stand a few taxis waiting for customers. We negotiate with two taxi drivers, load on all luggage and off we go! Although you can see the airport from the bus stop, there is no direct way to it. You have to somehow go around. We arrive after a few minutes, take the luggage from the cargo area and go to the check-in. Unfortunately, the baggage regulations are something bad and create us various problems. You may only carry certain kilos and more than one piece of luggage is not allowed. I have two. One is checked-in, for the other I have to pay about 20 Pounds. Thank God it is not weighed. The Bengalis and the Pakistanis put together all their stuff, so that all suitcases and travel bags weigh about the same and are still within the permissible limit. Everything else is packed in their hand luggage.
I look out the window again, and float away, deep into my thoughts. Their conversation in Arabic makes me sleepy and I travel to the realms of Morpheus.
A few hours later we arrive in Rafha. Next to where the bus stops stand a few taxis waiting for customers. We negotiate with two taxi drivers, load on all luggage and off we go! Although you can see the airport from the bus stop, there is no direct way to it. You have to somehow go around. We arrive after a few minutes, take the luggage from the cargo area and go to the check-in. Unfortunately, the baggage regulations are something bad and create us various problems. You may only carry certain kilos and more than one piece of luggage is not allowed. I have two. One is checked-in, for the other I have to pay about 20 Pounds. Thank God it is not weighed. The Bengalis and the Pakistanis put together all their stuff, so that all suitcases and travel bags weigh about the same and are still within the permissible limit. Everything else is packed in their hand luggage.
Suddenly one of the security guards calls something in Arabic, looks in our direction, pointing to a large suitcase on the x-ray machine. He probably wants to know who it belongs to because he has discovered something suspicious. One of the Pakistani colleagues recognises the suitcase and calls the Brit who is smoking outside. The Brit comes in slowly and slightly annoyed because he had to throw away his cigarette, and waddles slowly towards the security official. The security man points at the suitcase visibly annoyed and upset and demands from the Brit to open the suitcase. The Brit obeys. Then the security man goes through the things of the Brit and finds a few mosquito sprays and deodorants. The are not allowed and must remain there. However, the Brit has something against it, but the officer insists. Then the security man fishes a large wooden cross from the suitcase, looks at it and starts waving around with it and says something in Arabic. The Brit looks at him and says calmly in English: What do you want? This is a cross and not a sword or any other weapon.
Everyone says something in his own language and eventually the official places the cross back into the suitcase. The Brit closes it and is finally allowed to check it in.
Meanwhile, we are all a couple of feet away looking at the spectacle. When I then start to comment on the whole thing and say something like: Kneel down you wretch! Kneel thou shalt when you stand before the Lord and you little wretch must also repent for your actions! Etc. I cannot help laughing and get pushed forward by one of the Bengalis, so we're out of sight and earshot. We roll with laughter in the waiting room and then I get to hear by my colleagues: "Are you stupid? You could have got us into trouble!" and we laugh more.
We all turn serious as the Brit comes into the waiting area. But he notices that something is going on. After a few minutes we walk across the tarmac to the plane and get on it. I sit next to the Brit and he asks me what happened and why we were laughing. When I tell him the story he has to laugh too.
The flight is without any problems and an hour later we arrive in Riyadh. There we go through checks and endless corridors and put us on a couple of chairs and wait for the Filipino to pick us up. After three quarters of an hour he comes with our Boss from Canada, both in two large, white SUVs and we drive to the hotel where we all spent our first nights in KSA. I share a suite with the Brit. Everyone has a very large room with double bed. We also have a living room, a large bathroom and a kitchen.
This blog is available on Amazon:
Theo of Arabia ebook
Theo of Arabia paperback
Everyone says something in his own language and eventually the official places the cross back into the suitcase. The Brit closes it and is finally allowed to check it in.
Meanwhile, we are all a couple of feet away looking at the spectacle. When I then start to comment on the whole thing and say something like: Kneel down you wretch! Kneel thou shalt when you stand before the Lord and you little wretch must also repent for your actions! Etc. I cannot help laughing and get pushed forward by one of the Bengalis, so we're out of sight and earshot. We roll with laughter in the waiting room and then I get to hear by my colleagues: "Are you stupid? You could have got us into trouble!" and we laugh more.
We all turn serious as the Brit comes into the waiting area. But he notices that something is going on. After a few minutes we walk across the tarmac to the plane and get on it. I sit next to the Brit and he asks me what happened and why we were laughing. When I tell him the story he has to laugh too.
The flight is without any problems and an hour later we arrive in Riyadh. There we go through checks and endless corridors and put us on a couple of chairs and wait for the Filipino to pick us up. After three quarters of an hour he comes with our Boss from Canada, both in two large, white SUVs and we drive to the hotel where we all spent our first nights in KSA. I share a suite with the Brit. Everyone has a very large room with double bed. We also have a living room, a large bathroom and a kitchen.
This blog is available on Amazon:
Theo of Arabia ebook
Theo of Arabia paperback
Desert
Teacher! Look!
Colleagues having something to eat somewhere halfway to Rafha.
Rafha
Our plane to Riyadh.
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