The day passes slowly and boring. I meet some more shabby looking colleagues from the west whose sole purpose is to earn and safe as much as possible and buy a house back home or do God knows what with it. Well, as a child of immigrants, I can tell you that after a decade in Saudi or abroad, you’ll get a huge culture shock when you’ll get back to your country. You will regret going back and will want to leave again. This happened to my parents and to many others who returned to their home countries after many, many years abroad. One of my colleagues has done the right thing. He converted to islam, married a Saudi woman and seems to be happier than the rest.
At 3.40pm I go downstairs to the hall. Our driver is sitting on a couch next to the entrance. We shake hands and he tells me that there’s a shopping trip planed for this afternoon. Where are we going? I ask. No idea, he says. You get to decide and I drive you there. Alright. The other colleagues arrive and we get on the bus. Now I sit in the very back of the van next to a Pakistani colleague. He’s is one of the well dressed and the best educated. It is a pleasure talking to him. His reason for being here? His wife. She wanted to come to the holy land, to the home of islam. She thought that here she could live a religious life and be a good muslim. Like it is for Christians either the Vatican or Mount Athos. She was shocked to see that things here are quite different from what she had imagined. But both like it here and don’t want to go back.
We arrive home and have half an hour to get ready for the shopping trip. The place chosen by one of the colleagues is called ‘Azizia’. It takes us less then twenty minutes to arrive there and when we do, I notice that it is a small shopping centre and to quote a colleague, a very modest one. There are few shops, mainly for women, a big supermarket and a few food places. We have two hours to do our shopping. So I walk around and discover a shop with mobile phones, tablets, etc. I ask for a data SIM, but the package I’m offered isn’t very good. Just outside this shop is an STC kiosk. STC is something like BT. I ask the man about a data SIM and after some initial comprehension problems we manage to understand each other. He asks me for an IQAMA. I don’t have one. No IQAMA, no SIM. Damn! Usually it works with the passport and the visa. Not here apparently. So I go search for the driver or one of the colleagues. I find the driver and when we get back to the kiosk, the Arab isn’t there. We wait five or so minutes and a man who passes by tells us that he saw the Arab walking around. Probably going to the wash room for the upcoming prayer time. The driver suggests that I go to the supermarket to do my shopping and come back after prayer time.
“What do you mean, do my shopping? Won’t it close during prayer time?” I ask.
“It will” he says, “but you can be inside and fill up your cart”.
“Really?” I ask. “In Ar’ar everyone had to leave the shops and wait outside.
Here in Riyadh some things are different. At least the big supermarkets allow you to do your shopping. What they do is, close the doors so no one can enter or leave the shop while it’s closed for prayer time. You are trapped inside and can fill up your cart. You are not served at the cheese counter. The same applies for fruit and veggies. Nobody there to weigh them. Also no service at the bakery. You do all those things either before or after prayer time. The tills remain closed too.
When you’re done shopping you walk to the tills and wait to see which one opens. The doors open too. A good thing is that you can leave your shopping cart at the reception. You can leave the whole cart, not only bags and continue your shopping in the mall. You get a number like you would do for bags.
After the supermarket, I find the driver and go back to the STC kiosk. The Arab is nowhere to be seen. We wait for ten minutes and then it’s time to go. Damn! No internet again. I’ll have to wait three more days until the next shopping trip.
This blog is available on Amazon:
Theo of Arabia ebook
Theo of Arabia paperback
My office. One desk, three chairs.
Corridor with offices. The door to the right is mine with my name on it.
The other side. It goes around like in a maze.
Our van to work and to the shops.
