Part 31 - The final episode

I spend some time in the estimated 80sqm hotel suite and go back and forth and can't get out of amazement. I've often been in luxury hotels, but this is a greater, bigger and more exclusive. Another reason why I love the Arab world. Everything is bigger, more luxurious and more exclusive than back home in our world. Here you get value for your money. I wait for a while until my luggage is here. I feel tired and want to sleep but can't because the liquids for my contact lenses are in the suitcase at the airport. That's why I write a few e-mails. 2-3 hours later I go down to the reception to ask if my luggage is already there and it hasn't been brought to me, and if not, could they call the airport and investigate.
The lady at reception does't know anything about my luggage. She calls the airport, but nobody picks up. Crap! Then I ask whether we are centrally located and if there are any points of interest around here. The lady said I should just get out of the hotel, turn right, at the end of the road turn left and then right again. In front of me I'll see a mosque with a spiral tower. I should walk towards it. No sooner said than done -. I just go out of the hotel and follow her instructions. When I see the spiral tower, I walk in its direction. I pass shops with shoes and bags and clothes, some restaurants and mobile shops. Eventually, I turn left and see before me a Souq. I walk down the street and get past many clothing stores, barbers, electronics shops, etc.. Then I turn somewhere and a smell rises to my nostrils. A spicy smell that the wind is blowing directly into my nose. The picture changes. The scenery is beautiful, colourful, traditional. I remain standing on a square in the middle and let my gaze wander. People of all colours come and go, smells and sounds coming from all sides. I want to take a picture, put my hands in my pockets and realise only now that a) I don't even have my mobile phone, b) no camera and c) the address and the name of the hotel here with me. Also no money and no papers. Only a credit card, a few tissues and the magnetic card for the hotelroom door. Superb! But I don't get into panic and move on. Now I see the tower again protrude above the roof of a building and move in its direction. I reach the mosque and go in the yard. A few people scurry past me and disappear behind different doors. Since I don't know which is the right door, I wait a little until someone comes out or goes in. When after a minute, no one appears, I look out for shoes. Most shoes are in front of two doors. I discover mens shoes in front of one of the doors. So I take off my shoes there and go inside. There are few men there, spread out in the large room. I look around and kneel down somewhere. It is pleasantly cool and quiet in here. No noise coming from outside.
After my prayer I go back outside, put on my shoes and continue my journey of discovery. I find myself in another Souq in which it smells wonderfully. Here, spices are traded. I take a deep breath. Ah, that's a treat! The spices are available for sale in huge bags and you can put with a small shovel so much in a bag as you want and need. I go further and come to a point in which there are several cafes and restaurants. Slowly it gets dark and I have to return. Back? How? Where? What is the name of the hotel again? Crap! Where to? I look around and try to remember the direction I came from. Hmm ... somehow everything looks the same. Shit! What do I do now? Where was again this spiral tower? I go through some streets and try to remember where I came from, looking simultaneously for the tower. Slowly some things start seeming quite familiar to me. At every corner, I focus and turn correctly most of the times. If my feeling tells me that I am wrong, I return and try another way. Soon, I also see the tower and go up towards it. From there, everything becomes more difficult. Then I go down a path that proves to be completely wrong. I notice it not right away, but a good 20 minutes later. Part of the way is quite right, but then I lose myself in the streets. I also don't see the tower anymore. So I go back up to a part I recognise. Then I turn to a different direction. This decision is the right one. Now I'm on my path. Several minutes later tells me my gut feeling that I am very close to the hotel. Just where is the hotel? I look at the tall buildings and suddenly comes back to me the hotel name. I go into a shop to ask, but the people there don't understand English and the name of the hotel doesn't ring a bell. But they send me to another hotel. There I ask for directions. Two times left I'm told. Indeed! I turn twice left and stand in front of my hotel. Superb! Barely in, the lady at the reception desk tells me that my luggage has arrived and is in my room waiting for me. I go to my room and there it is. Then I go for dinner. Even the dinner is free. And I must say it is delicious. Then I go back to my room and fall dead into bed..
The alarm goes off very early in the morning and it is still dark outside. Since the restaurant is not yet open, I will have breakfast at the airport. The cab comes soon and brings me and a few others to the airport.
At the airport I go to the check-in counter and am being served by a Greek lady. We chat for a while in Greek before I have to go. The crisis and unemployment have brought her to Doha. I go through the checks and directly into the lounge for breakfast. The atmosphere in here is calm, relaxed and cosy. I have breakfast in peace and sit down on a leather sofa and play around on my iPad. When I eventually lift my head to the screen, I see: Final Call for Athens. Crap! I spurt out to the gate. We are driven by bus to the airplane. Since there are more than one buses, they stop all in front of the different entrances. My bus stops at the rear. So I get to go in through the back of the plane. I show my boarding pass and the stewardess says, I have a long way ahead of me and makes a hand gesture to that direction. In the middle of the aircraft, I am asked for my card again and I hear keep going. Then I get to the curtain separating the business from the economy class. There I am stopped and looked at from head to toe and asked for my boarding card again. When the flight attendant sees my card, she gets friendlier and shows me my seat. Hardly in my seat, jumps a second stewardess out of nowhere and asks for my pass. As soon as she is gone, a steward appears and asks for my boarding card. I look around and see that a) all Business class passengers are much older than me and b) are businesslike dressed. I wear jeans again and my burgundy-coloured hooded sweatshirt from my university, University of Hull. Then it gets finally quiet. Since no one sits next to me, I spread myself out. I play a little around on the seat and sit back comfortably and look down from the window to the desert. Qatar and Saudi, two countries that are next to each other, but differ in many things. Images of yesterday afternoon shoot through my head. The women wore no veil over their faces and were sitting with their men in the restaurants, cafes and taverns and drank and ate. That does not exist in Saudi. Working women everywhere and they are even allowed to drive a car. But they wear abayas and headscarves.
The steward who is suddenly next to me and asks what I would like to eat, brings me out of my thoughts back to reality. There is a selection like in a luxury restaurant to choose from.
The five hours to Athens pass pleasantly and quickly. I get plenty to eat and drink and take photos of the desert, from the Suez Canal and some of the Greek islands.
As I stand at the baggage conveyor belt later on, I ask myself: was it all just a dream or reality?
Outside, I fall into the arms of my dear.

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                                Fields in the desert

                                Suez

Greek islands

Part 30

It's early in the morning and in a few hours I fly from Dammam to Athens via Doha. I insist taking a taxi, but my friend says it is too dangerous too take a cab due to the horrible driving style of the  cabbies. I should order a limousine instead. But the cost is considerably more and I do not want to pay a lot more of what I'd pay for a taxi ride. What is going to happen to me? Since I remain stubborn, my friend decides to drive me to the airport. The trip from Al Khubar takes three quarters of an hour and leads us through desert landscape.
When we arrive we say goodbye to each other and I drag my luggage for check-in. There it's as always weighed, my passport and my ticket checked and suddenly I'm looked at by officials. I am frightened and think what does he want from me now?
"Sir, you have excess weight. Take this ticket and go to the desk around the corner to pay the fine and then come back."
Crap! This is expensive. So I go around the corner as I was ordered and give the ticket to a man.
"That makes 480 Riyal" says the man after having looked at the ticket and typed something into his computer.
"Really, so much? How many kilos are we talking about?"
"Seven."
Heck, it's the shit textbooks!" Can I remove something from my suitcase to make it easier?"
"No, it's too late!"
"Your tossers!"
"Ha?"
"Nothing. Can I pay by card? "
"No. But over there is an ATM."
"Shit!"
So I stroll to the ATM and withdraw 500 Rial. I pay the fine, get a stamp on the piece of paper and return to the first desk. There I hand in the ticket and receive a boarding card. I look at the boarding card and realise that a) I have only one instead of two and b) Doha is standing on it. What about the connecting flight? I ask for a second boarding card and get the answer that I will get it in Doha. Hmm ... there's something wrong. I do not like this.
I go through a few checks and half an hour later I'm sitting in an almost empty plane. An uneasy feeling accompanies me all the time and tells me that today I will not arrive in Athens. At the same time bothers me that I had to pay for excess weight almost 100 Pounds. My feeling tells me that the tossers will pay for it.
The flight is comfortable and because we are very few passengers, the service is impeccable. We arrive in Doha with a 15 minutes delay. I speed to the gate to Athens. There awaits me an endlessly long queue. Crap! I go on over to the Steward and explain to him my situation with the one boarding card. He tells me to queue up and then go to the lady farther back. She will help me. When it's my turn I go to the said lady. She looks at my passport and my ticket, types something into her computer, shakes his head and says: "Unfortunately there is a problem. Take your passport and ticket and go over there to the helpdesk. "
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Go to the help desk, where you will be helped."
Superb! Not even a response you get.
When I arrive at the help desk I see that there are only three desks and all of them are pretty busy. I turn my head and see three more desks where almost nothing is going on. At the first one there are five people, at the other just two people are being served. I line up behind those two and wait. As they are still not done after five minutes, I go to the front, throw my passport and ticket on the desk's surface and say: "My plane to Athens is leaving in 45 minutes. Will I be on it or not? And if not, why?"
The lady looks at me, takes my documents, types something in her computer and tells me the plane is overbooked and I'll stay here today because there is no other flight until tomorrow morning.
Superb! I imagine as Tom Hanks stranded at the airport.
"Wait a little and I will help you further."
Ten or so minutes later she's done with the two people and devotes her full attention to me. She types something, looks at me and says: "We are sorry sir, but do not worry because the policy of Qatar Air foresees a compensation in such cases."
And suddenly disappear all the storm clouds, the sun comes out, birds begin to sing and a big smile appears slowly on my face while I hear what the lady tells me.
"You are entitled to a free night stay with dinner and breakfast and free transfer. Additionally, you can choose whether you want to have a check over $250 or would you prefer to upgrade to Business Class. The check you can exchange anywhere in the world within a year. Until we have found you a hotel room, you can sit in the Business Lounge and we will come and pick you up when we're done."
I am totally perplexed about the splendid news and consider briefly: The dollar is currently very weak against the Pound and Euro. Who knows whether there are exchange fees and how much they are. If the plane was overbooked today, then the one tomorrow morning is likely to be full as well. Five hours cooped up in the economy class? No, I prefer Business class.
The lady gives me a ticket for the lounge and shows me the way. As I arrive at the lounge, I get an odd look, because I appear in jeans, grey GEOX sneaker and a burgundy-colored hooded sweatshirt from the University of Hull. When I show my ticket for the lounge, the gentlemen are at once extremely friendly. Clothes make the man, isn't it? That's right. Inside, it is like the land of plenty. There is food and drinks and everything is for free. I go through the buffet and eat a little bit of everything and then go over to the sofas and chairs with tables in front and make myself comfortable. I take out my laptop and immerse myself in my e-mails. There are ​​no annoying announcements, so you can easily lose track of time in this peculiar relaxing atmosphere and thus miss your plane. Eventually the lady from the help desk comes and asks me to follow her. I obey and follow her. When we arrive at the help desk, she hands me a ticket for the hotel, the boarding pass for tomorrow morning and tells me how everything will proceed. Since I need my luggage, she phones around a bit and organises it for me. Then she takes me into a hall where already a few other stranded wait and leaves. A few minutes later, a bus comes and picks us up and brings us all to the other side of the airport. There I walk through some check points and straight into an office to clarify that with my luggage. There, I am told that the luggage will be taken to the hotel in the afternoon. Then I go through another check point. In the hall behind it are representatives of many hotels. I go to my representative and show them my ticket. The man says I should wait until a) he organises a taxi and b) a few other passengers come. As I stand in the middle of the hall I notice that the women here are wearing an abaya and a headscarf but have no veil over their face. Fascinating and needs getting used to. Even their abayas come in many colours and are not black only as in Saudi.
Finally, the man comes back and brings a few people with him. Then we walk across the street to a taxi that drives us to the hotel. After five minutes we are there. We get out and go to the reception desk. The hotel is a modern glass palace in an office and hotel area. I feel slightly disappointed. At the reception, an employee is waved and leads me to my room. We go with the elevator to the 12th floor. The man unlocks the door for me and leaves. I step in, and my eyes widen in surprise. Why? Have a look at the photos below! To the right of the entrance there is a toilet. Before me stretches a long and wide space. It contains: A table with mirror. A bar with coffee maker and kettle. A flat screen TV. A living room set. A dining table. Where is the bed? In the other room. I walk into the other room and discover a very large bedroom with a large bathroom, sofa with stunning views. The wardrobes are located along a small corridor. Wow! Thank you Qatar Air!

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                                My suite

Part 29

It's Sunday late morning when I wake up and I'm still dreaming of the midnight picnic in the desert. My British colleague is already awake and packing. I need something to eat. After showering, I go search for the others. Some have already gone for breakfast, a few are still here packing. We go to the nearest shop and buy something for breakfast. Then we go to the suite of Bengalis and have a leisurely breakfast. Sadness is surrounding us. Then we say goodbye. My colleagues go later in the evening to Mecca for a few days. And the Brit is flying to Cambodia.
I'm going to Al Khubar to the east coast near Dammam to visit an old friend whom I have found after many years on LinkedIn. Originally, I wanted to travel by train. There is one train line in Saudi linking Riyadh with Dammam. Also, the trains are very luxurious and fast. They have a system like the airplanes. You have to check in your luggage, you may take only certain kilos, there are different classes to choose from and at the end of the journey you collect your luggage like in an airport. Hand luggage is allowed. In addition, it is very convenient to travel by train. Unfortunately for me, it is holiday time and it's all booked up. Since I do not want to fly, I decide to take the bus. There are VIP buses that pick you up at the hotel or wherever you are and deliver you at your final destination at the front door. In the bus, there are more or less half of the seats of a normal bus and a comfort is offered like in a First- or Business class of an airplane. Indeed, it is expensive, but I want to treat myself. Unfortunately, no one answers the phone. I try it ten times and give up. So the normal bus remains.
I go to the bus station by taxi. I flag down a taxi outside the hotel and ask how much it costs. The taxi driver looks at me and calls an overpriced price. I negotiate like crazy, but he does not go down. Then comes along another cab and I flag it down. Again the same game. I urge to go by the meter and the driver agrees. At the end of the half-hour ride it costs me about 8 Pounds Sterling. At the bus station, some Asians are waiting with luggage trolleys. For two riyals, about 40p my luggage is transported for me. The Asian man takes me to the ticket counter and because I'm in a hurry and don't want to miss the bus that leaves in a few minutes, he goes to the counter and tells the ticket seller something I do not understand. Then he turns around and asks for the money. I pay and get my ticket. Then we run through the hall to the bus. At the bus I'm one of the last ones to get on it. Here I give the Asian a good tip for his service and get on through the back door. Barely in, I see that it is full. That'll be a hell of a ride! On the ticket is no seat number. I look around for a free seat, but already I hear the driver call: "Doctor! Doctor!" He makes a gesture to indicate that I should move forward. He sends an Arab to the back and places me behind the driver's seat. Next to me is a Pakistani and directly opposite his wife and daughter.
The journey begins. We drive through the desert. Approximately 300 miles nothing but desert. It is gorgeous and stunning. I am as happy as a little kid and I'm probably the only one who feels like this on the whole bus.
I am talking for a while with the Pakistani and he provides me with cool drinks from the cooler of the bus that is the front of the seats of his wife and daughter. Eventually we both fall asleep. After three hours the driver drives off the motorway for a break. There is a service station in the middle of nowhere. There is a mosque, a tea shop, a small supermarket and a restaurant with a snack bar. I want to eat something, but there is only Kabsa. So I refrain from it. The passengers go to different directions. Some go to pray, others for tea and others to eat. I go for a little walk and enjoy the views. Then an African comes along and starts a conversation. He is from Eritrea, he says, studying in Riyadh and is now on the way to Dammam to visit some friends. He wants to know about me and asks if I know where Eritrea is. Yes, I know. When I tell him that I have a sponsor child in Ethiopia, he looks at me with big eyes. Readers of my novel "At Night ... .." (in English available towards the end of the year - so far available in German under the title 'Nachts.....'), know the story. The driver is calling us to gather and continue the journey.
Again three hours later we arrive in Dammam. There I go out of the station in search of my friend coming to pick me up. In front of the entrance are taxi drivers who call all sorts of names of cities: Riyadh! Mecca! Medina! Everything in the middle of nowhere. Are there really people who want to be driven 1000+ Miles in a taxi? Then I discover my friend. We go first to eat something at the heart of Dammam. We go to a steak house. All noble in there, a whole other world. A Western world, nothing like Ar'ar. Also, the prices are more western oriented. With about 10 - 13 Pounds per person, it is still cheaper than in Europe, but much more expensive than in Ar'ar. Then we drive to the compound where he lives. It's my first time in a compound. I have read and heard a lot about it, but now I must say I am disappointed. Nice to have a pool outside the front door, possibly a fitness centre, a snooker room, etc, but that looks too sterile. In addition, here live only Westerners. There is no contact with Arabs and the Arab world. Not like we were in Ar'ar, where we lived with the Arabs.
The next two days pass quietly. Since my friend has to work, I'm until the early afternoon alone. I go for a little walk in the area, but discover nothing interesting.
In the afternoon we go out to eat in a restaurant. Western chain. I do not want to reveal its name. Here I see a tremendous difference to Ar'ar. As it is prayer time, we are not asked to leave the premises. The door is locked, the curtains are drawn, and inside is business as usual. Oh! The same I experience again a day later. Apparently this is normal here.
Then we meet a friend of my friend. We pick him up at the Sheraton Hotel. While we wait in the parking lot we marvel at all the Ferraris, Maseratis, Porsches, Lamborghinis, all in white. When the friend is finally here we drive around a bit, go for coffee or tea and go to the Corniche and drive through a luxurious residential area. Gee what palaces are standing here! Since there is most of the oil in the eastern province, many rich and the super rich live here in this area. I feel a little strange. Until yesterday I was in an Arab town in the middle of the desert and now I'm surrounded by luxury. Crazy! And fascinating. I'm in awe and amazement and can't get out of it.

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Part 28

It is afternoon, we are all in our suites and some of us are pretty hungry. We are pondering whether we should go eat something or not. It is planned that we go later to the desert for a picnic. Just when this takes place, we do not know exactly. Our Big Boss from Canada and the Filipino have brought us to our accommodation and left soon after for God knows where. We do not know where they are. One of us takes his phone and tries to reach the Filipino. Unfortunately, he does not respond. Then he tries the Big Boss. After a while he answers and gives us a vague answer, without mentioning any time. We translate his words as follows: It will be long before we are back. So we decide to walk to the nearest store and buy something to eat.
In fact, it takes a very long time until the Big Boss and the Filipino return to our accommodation. First comes the Big Boss and some time later arrives the Filipino. We finally climb into the cars, (I'm wearing my Arab thobe, which pleases the staff and the other guests, many photos are taken of me and with me) and I'm happy that we finally go to the desert. But what happens two minutes later? We drive onto the parking lot of the next Carrefour and park there. The Filipino disappears in the store and comes back after half an hour. Then we finally continue.
We drive about half an hour and turn off somewhere. There, another car is waiting for us. The drivers get out, greet each other and get into the cars after two minutes. Then we drive a little in the sand and come to a halt. We're here. We get out, make us acquainted with the driver of the other car, he is a friend of our Big Boss and the Filipino, we unload everything and walk a few yards. Only then we realise where we are and stop all at once. The view is phenomenal! We are not just in the desert, we are on a hill from where you have a magnificent view over Riyadh. The view is breath taking. We go to the end of the hill and lay out and down everything. Fire is made, blankets spread, plates, cups, glasses, food, etc. unpacked. The meat is thrown on the grill, salad and rice are ready and available. We take our shoes off and sit on the blankets. A fresh wind blows around, good that I've also brought a jacket with me.
Then we finally eat. It's midnight and my stomach is growling like crazy. Since there is no cutlery as always, we have a canister of water to wash our hands. Then we eat like hungry wolves. The atmosphere is magical, I'm totally blown away by the vista, the lights in the distance, the sound of the desert wind, the fire, the smell of the food. A bit melancholy is also there, because we will be scattered to the four winds tomorrow. Too bad that our Egyptian colleague is not there. I would have liked to have him here.
After dinner Arabic coffee is being served. The pot is taken out and placed on the fire. Now someone comes up with the idea to sing something. Wow, great! Says a childlike voice inside me. Damn! says another. I'll probably also have to sing and I'm not famous for my huge eight-octave voice.
Colleagues consult what they want to sing while I look into the distance. Then it gets suddenly very quiet and they begin to sing. It is, as with most Muslims a religious song. A beautiful song. Then another colleague sings a love song. They have nice, warm voices which take me into another world. I look alternately into the fire, into the distance and the colleagues. Then I close my eyes and hover in the star-full desert sky. Eventually, as the song comes to an end and all applaud, someone touches my arm and says, come on, now it's your turn!
But I don't want to. I'm trying to get me out of that by saying that I have a terrible voice, etc. However, the colleagues do not give up and suddenly one says that I should be the last one to sing. Then it goes around and the atmosphere is even more magical. It crackles, it's electrifying.
The singing has made me feel tired and powerless. Unfortunately, it's now my turn to sing. What shall I sing? The Bavarian national anthem? Hmm ... Or the European? I take my iPhone out of my pocket and find me on Youtube a karaoke version.

O friends, not these tones!
But let us raise our voices in more pleasing
and fuller of joy.

The colleagues look at me perplexed. I just oil my vocal chords and sing powerfully and undeterred.

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire-drunk,
Heavenly one, your shrine!
Your magics bind again
what custom has strictly parted,
all men become brothers,
Where your tender wing lingers ...

Oh, this is magic, I love this hymn! I don't care if I do not have the right voice for it, I nevertheless continue to sing until the end. Thank goodness my colleagues are excited and I'm glad it's over.
Shortly thereafter, as we are all full, tired and weary, and the desert wind blows with more power into our faces, we decide to pack up and go. Then we need another half hour to get home. The streets are empty and my eyes wander over the past frenzied city lights.
Home at last, I fall into bed dead tired.

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                                Midnight picnic in the desert