Riyadh

Part 1

Here I am again at the athenian airport on a Thursday afternoon. I walk through the hall towards the passport controls with my backpack on my shoulders. The very same one that has accompanied me on most of my travels over the past few years. I turn around and see my dear and my dears crying. I wave goodbye once again and feel that my eyes are about to get wet too. I walk a few steps and turn around once more before I go around the corner and disappear through the passport controls.

Saudi is calling. A new adventure is about to begin. Or has it already begun? This time it is not a trip into the unknown, but it is a trip into a new experience. New job, new city, new people, new students, new everything. Riyadh is calling. I tried to avoid going there, as I didn’t like it when I first saw it. I wanted to go either back to Ar’Ar or hoped for another small town. The reasons why I didn’t want to go to Riyadh are as follows: too big, too chaotic, too modern. The city has no character. It is a very modern city with tall buildings, many shopping centres, or malls as the americans say, wide streets, highways and freeways as the Americans would say and it’s a massive building site. The whole city seems to be under construction. Another reason is that it can be a trap for a foreigner. Like in the whole country, so in Riyadh, there is no public transportation system. You need to have a car. And here it’s where the fun begins. In order to be able to drive, rent or buy a car you either need the right visa (there’s a variety of visas and not all of them allow you to hire or buy a car), you need an international driving licence to drive one and an IQAMA (something like the national insurance number) to buy one. If your company provides you with a car and you have an international driving licence, you’re fine, if not, you’ll have a problem. You’ll have a problem driving around anyway. Ever been to Naples in Italy? Do you remember the local driving style? It’s much, much worse in Saudi. In addition to that, many signs are in Arabic. So if you don’t speak the language, you’ll get lost. Google maps don’t help either as they are out of date. There are some sat-navs one can purchase, but I’m not sure if they will be up to date every day. I haven’t driven in Saudi yet, but it’s quite scary to even sit on the passenger seat.

So, without a car, you can’t go anywhere. You’ll be imprisoned in your flat or will walk around the block or the very near area. You won’t be able to leave your area, you won’t be able to visit anybody, you won’t be able to do many things and will be limited to the blocks nearby. 

Getting a taxi is another option, but most drivers don’t speak English and they won’t understand where you want to go. They might not even know the street you want to go to. Plus, they will try to rip you off, simply because you are a foreigner. Whites pay even more. 

This is why life in a small town is a lot easier. At least there you can either walk or cycle and are not imprisoned in your four walls.

Gone through the controls, I walk through the duty free area and go to the gate. I wanted to upgrade my ticket from economy to business, but they couldn’t do it at the counter as they don’t have the right equipment to issue tickets. I should have phoned 24 hours earlier and do it over the phone. So, no business lounge this time. Just ordinary seats in the waiting area in front of the gate.

The flight with Gulf Air is quite pleasant. I’ve got a seat next to the emergency exit, which gives me extra legroom. It’s not fully booked, but it’s quite full. I have two young men sitting next to me. They talk a bit at the beginning and then switch on the screens in front of us and watch films. I read some magazines. The food is quite good. It’s a warm meal including a desert and not just a simple sandwich. I watch a film after dinner and before the film comes to an end, we land in Bahrain. 

The stopover lasts 3.5 hours. Pity though, it’s not long enough to go into the city. I’ve never been in Bahrain and would like to visit it one day.

As I stroll down the long corridor between all the duty-free shops, I discover a blue Porsche Carrera 4S. The elegance of the car draws my attention and I go closer. As I slowly surround the majestic beauty, a lady approaches me and says: if you would like to buy this car, you can leave a deposit, pay the rest later and we’ll deliver it to your country for free. WOW!!! There’s no price tag anywhere to be seen, and because it’s beyond my yearly salary, I smile at the lady and say: even though it’s a beautiful car and I’d be flattered to own it, I’m more into motorbikes and would love to own a BMW 1200 GS Adventure.

After going through all the shops, I find a WIFI corner near my gate and sit down. Take out my iPad, listen to music and write emails. At some point I see a shadow on the floor before me and hear a female voice through the music. I raise my head and see three security guards in front of me. I take out my earphones and ask ‘pardon?’, but they shrug their shoulders and leave. What was that all about?

I continue writing mails until it’s boarding time. At 2.35am we’re reading to board. It’s not many people who want to fly to Riyadh at this early hour. It’s mostly men from various Asian countries, a few Arabs and very few women. Some travel alone. This time I don’t have a window seat like on the plane before, but an aisle seat. Next to me sit two Pakistanis and opposite me two Indians. Before we take off one of the Indians waves with a piece of paper, his passport and a pen. The piece of paper looks familiar to me. I don’t understand what he’s saying, but I understand what he wants. He wants me to fill in the paper for him. It’s the form one has to fill in on the first entry. I take the passport and copy the details, ask him one or two things that are not mentioned in the passport and when I come to the question about the religion I hesitate a bit and ponder what to write. Atheist, Jewish, Pastafarian, or something the Saudis might not laugh about? I decide to ask him and write down his religion. When I’m done with him, the other Indian wants me to fill in his form and then the two Pakistanis next to me. 

I somehow feel back in time and remember a story my primary school teacher once told me. At the beginning of his career he was sent to a remote village to teach for a year. There most of the people couldn’t write or read and went to him every time they wanted him to write or read a letter. Some decades later, I am in the same situation.

The journey lasts only a bit over an hour and is very pleasant. When we arrive in Riyadh and get off the plane and down the very same corridor I walked through the first time I landed in the Kingdom, all the memories came to my mind. This time though it is different. For a start, there are people guiding you to the right queue. Last time I had to find the right queue. This time are only a few travellers there and I don’t get to hear “system down!!!” 

I walk to the front of the re-entry and arrive just before a desk. When a officer sees me, he asks me to go to a counter where nobody is in line. There for some reason the officer can’t serve me, so the first officer takes me to another counter and sends the people waiting to the one I’ve just been. There my passport and visa are checked and my fingerprints scanned. Not even a minute later I’m through the controls and go to the belts to get my suitcases. Last time it took me two hours to get through the controls because of “system down!!!”. 

Unlike other countries where you get your luggage and are free to go, in Saudi you have to have it scanned again. I put it through the x-ray machine, get it on the other side and walk through the doors. All the time I was thinking how am I going to recognise the person picking me up? How is he going to recognise me? Will he be standing there with a paper in his hands with my name on it? Or will he just stand there like the Filipino last time? Seconds before I walk through the doors, I look back and realise that I’m the only white person here, so even if he has no paper, he’ll recognise me.

Well, he has a paper me my name printed on it. But it’s the driver and not the HR person I was expecting to see. The driver takes my luggage with his one hand and takes his mobile phone in the other. I have a glimpse at it and see that it is a very basic device. I thought that in the times of smartphones those really basic with the single colour screen and proper button have vanished from the markets. Apparently not. When we arrive some escalators, a tall man appears and greets me. It’s the HR person I was waiting to see. We go down the stairs to the car park and the driver disappears with my luggage. 

“He’s going to fetch the car” says the HR person. A few seconds later the driver appears, opens the door for me, I say goodbye to the HR person, get into the car, we drive through the gate and disappear into the night. 

The ride ends a few minutes later at the hotel. The journey to the hotel looked familiar as it is the very same way I was driven the first time to the other hotel. 

It’s 5am, I’m tired, feel like having a glass of whisky, but seem to be hearing Bon Jovi singing “dry county’ from somewhere. Yes John, it is a dry country and I’m not gonna have an alcoholic beverage for a long time.

Suddenly I miss my summer in Hull.

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