Blog #12 The End is Near

The countdown is on for my departure and the end of my three-month adventure in Riyahd, Saudi Arabia. Endings of whatever type, good or bad, always bring with it some reflection of the immediate past. For me it is questions such as; what I have done, what I have learned, and what I will take away that will affect my life going forward. Life is a series of events; they shape whom, and what we are. Despite a relatively small portion of my life spent here, there are things I have experienced that I shall never forget. Thankfully, most of these things are positive.

For example, one of the obvious observations/revelations that struck me as I walked across the street to the mall at lunch is that people, culture, habits, and behaviors are just different from what “we” consider normal, not strange, stupid, or unusual. We sometimes are so caught with up in our lives that we assume “normal” is what we do. There is nothing further from the truth. In fact, we are probably in the minority in terms of our habits/routines compared to elsewhere in the world. A lot of that has to do with being as lucky as we are to live where we do. For example I was chatting with a Filipino colleague of mine the other day and he was saying that he quit his job at home to come here as the money was about three times what he would get at home (tax free). While he misses home as we all do, he does not miss working in his native land. That is because corruption is rampant, and the high taxes he pays doesn’t really get him a lot of service, only lines the pockets of a select few (remember Imalda Marcos?). Suddenly I realized one of the reasons why there are so many Filipinos living abroad.

Anyway, I began this little rant as I walking to the mall the other day. As I walked to the mall, I saw a couple of migrant construction workers on their lunch break. Where we might have a sandwich, or something non-perishable that can keep when there is no refrigerator to put your lunch. Here these two men (Indian I think) were sitting in one of the small green spaces close to the mall with at plastic matt laid out and what looked like a pile of spiced rice in the middle. They were busy talking and each using their hands to grab a little bite here and there. Or around our compound where we have Saudi soldiers guarding the perimeter, were on break and in a little nook beside their trailer the carpet goes down and they all sit around drinking and snacking before resuming their post. Why the soldiers patrol our compound, I don’t really understand – given how safe I feel in this city, I wonder is it to protect Saudi’s from Expats or Expats from the Saudis? While there have been incidents such as some suspected terrorist being shot in some public standoff a few weeks back, these events extremely rare. If you consider some North American cities of the same size, just a few people being shot would be considered a ‘good’ night by law enforcement.

The point of all that was to say that I feel privileged to be able to come and work here for a short time, but as with every other overseas assignment I have done, the appreciation of home and all that is has to offer reigns supreme. I don’t mean just the local Costco to shop at, which they don’t have here, but the geopolitical, cultural, and moral fabric that makes Canada what it is.

Onto more pragmatic matters that confront me prior to my departure. There are many things that I have, and will not see before I depart this fair land; however, I will leave satisfied that I have done much of what I wanted to see and experience in the limited time I did have here. My timing once again (the first being missing a bad winter at home) is good – given that there is a virulent bug called MERS going around – predominantly in this country, though other countries in the region are affected. It is like SARS in the past, not very contagious, and mostly limited to health care institutions. They suspect it may come from the camel population.

One nice diversion from the sedate lifestyle we live was an informal function at the Cdn Embassy a couple of Friday's past. I say informal as it was just a get together where they have a hockey game on the big screen, pool table and shuffle board which you can entertain yourself with (I didn’t) and what everyone comes for – an bar with real liquor!!! As I noted with my experience in Bahrain earlier in the month on my Visa reset – you don’t care what you have to pay when you have access to real booze. Ticket were not that expensive though – five tickets was 100SR or about 20SR each (approx. $6). It was a good night that just seemed to take off as end as quickly as it started. Shortly after getting there, I left my other three mates I came with to talk to a Toronto couple I met at the last event. We started to chat and catch up and as I was finishing my initial cocktail (scotch – albeit blended but still wonderful) my new friend says want some champagne? Of course I did. As I found out this is one item at the bar that you can’t buy by the glass but the bottle. So champagne was the next cocktail. Long story short they quickly left me to get food being served (a shawarma bar) so I sit at the nearby couch and start chatting with this Lebanese Canadian gent from Montreal, he however (is this a pattern I don’t want to admit too??) also left me soon after as better company came along (his wife) also looking for food. I turn to the other side of the couch and there I meet about six nurses from various parts of Canada and ages. Without having to get up for food (which I forgot about), they offered me one of the shawarma’s they picked up, and I had a completely new set of friends for the balance of the night. One girl, Crystal, was even a Winnipegger, unfortunately at only 29 I treated her paternalistically as I have some decorum as to who my potential ‘conquests’ might be! In any case, the seven of us spent the rest of the evening together, which was great. I had not only the company of fellow Canadians, but also women to boot! Interaction that is sadly very uncommon in these parts. One thing they made me realize was that the life we lead, compared to their life, are two different things. Compound living it seems is geared more to families and a quieter lifestyle, whereas these women, who share apartment space together not in compounds, are always on the go to one drinking event or another. One of the more popular activities it seems are get-togethers with American military who also have access to real booze as well. As told to me by one woman – it is a lifestyle of binge drinking. While not a good thing, it is a product of this society, that breeds this type of detrimental behaviour. It is a by-product for us heathens from far away, who do enjoy a drink on occasion. I did catch up with my mates later when they saw me, and perhaps assessed that I was having a better time, that they also showed up on the crowded couch and joined in the conversation. What seemed way too soon, I looked at my watch and realized that our cab would be waiting outside for us, and the end to great evening. As a matter of fact, I just got a text from one of the ladies inviting me to this Thursday’s ‘steak night’ whatever that may be. Another difference here is that events don’t just mean accepting an invitation, any invitation comes with the one other request – what is your passport number? Finding a new group of friends is great – though my timing is rotten! Why at the end of my term and not the beginning? This could have been a good thing or a bad thing. Good in the sense that I would enjoy seeing these ladies again and some of their activities, a bad thing because I couldn’t keep up the pace these guys keep up! They were going to an American Embassy event at 11am the next morning for another afternoon of sure debauchery. As I mentioned to these women – why didn’t I meet you two months ago! 

I joked to my friends on the way home it would be great (perhaps humiliating) to take a video at the start of the night and then the end of the night. At the start formal handshakes and small talk, to the end of the evening where everyone is your friend, your hugging everyone goodbye among other more ‘intimate’ gestures. While I would have loved to show you a picture of some of that night and my new friends, cell phones and other such electronic devices must be left at the gate prior to entry to the embassy grounds.

In complete contrast to that bit of excitement was my quest the previous day to get yet another thawb for myself (yes it is becoming an obsession for me). Not just any off the rack thawb, but a tailored thawb. Ahmed, my Saudi guide and friend was showing off his new thawb one day and mentioned he had it made for him. Well that was it; I had to have one too. Funny thing was it kind of fell off my radar until one day I went to pick up a pizza for comparison purposes – while not bad, however as a big fan of a topping you can’t get in this country (bacon) it was doomed to some degree. On a side note to the pizzas story, as I do at home when I get a pizza, I buy more than I can eat at one sitting in order to have the breakfast of champions the next day. However, some things you can do at home you learn quickly cannot be done here. I left the pizza and the half eaten remains in the box on the kitchen counter. Coming down the next morning excitedly awaiting my special breakfast only to find when I open the box that it is crawling with tiny ants. If you wanted to see a grown man cry. . . .

In any case, with the 20 minutes waiting for the pizza to be made I wondered up and down the strip of shops only to discover to my delight several shops had several bolts of white and cream coloured cloth on a large counter visible from the window. Hoping what it was what I think it was I wondered into one. Despite the lack of knowledge in each other’s respective languages, we managed to get along fine and have the job done. A father and son team (Aboo Azid was the sons’ name the fathers was too difficult to get) ran this shop. As I vacillated whether to go ahead or not, Aboo’s father was putting on the hard sell. Which was done by holding up the measuring tape and giving me the thumbs up accompanied with a big knowing smile. When I communicated somehow as to the price of this service he grabbed the calculator and punched in 220SR. Quickly this was down to 200, then 180. When I got hesitant and started making for the door, the knowing smile came back and with a pat on the back, Aboo’s father entered 150SR onto the calculator and the deal was consummated. Next are the measurements, as I stood in front of the mirror Mr. Aboo’s father went to work, first the length (shoulder to ankle), then neck, arms (in two places), waist and finally shoulder to shoulder. With each measurement, a grunt was our way to communicate whether good or not. After the measuring was complete, and written in their order book, it is to the counter to decide as to which type of cloth I wanted used. Who knew there was such a variety of choice in simple, thin white cloth! With hindsight I should have got a receipt for the item, or not paid for the whole thing in one shot (you can pay half then and the other half a pick up a week later) for reasons I will explain shortly. My fault was my own excitement, and hastily I gave them the complete funds and my business card (at which I impressed them by first writing my name in the book, they have a hard time writing our script as we do theirs, but then writing my mobile number in Arabic). After goodbyes and the knowledge that my garment would be ready within the week, I was off. Now this is where it gets interesting. As I mentioned there were about two or three of these shops very close to each other, and I didn’t take into memory the subtleties of the shop I was in (remember to me, with no Arabic language skills, business cards all look the same). You can guess where this is going. I come back a week later, walk into the shop all excited about my new purchase but then a little disappointed that I did not recognize the staff that day (hell people need a day off after all). Undeterred I started to mention that I was here to pick up my thawb. Again, no English from them, and no Arabic from me meant trouble. I look frantically through his order book hoping to verify the purchase, while the shopkeeper looked through the racks of completed thawbs all to no avail. With our terrible communications with each other, he starts measuring me up again for another thawb – me all the while saying don’t make another when the other should be here or at least in a couple of days! With luck, an older gentleman comes into the shop with his sons or grandsons, who does speak English. After telling him of my dilemma he finally says are you sure this is the same shop? I thought I was sure I explained. Thankfully his more common sense trumped my paranoid panic, he says let’s check another shop, I will take, mafi moshkeela, mafi moshkeela (no problem) so after he gives what I assume were explicit instructions to stay put to his two grandkids, we walked the 15 meters to the next shop. Much to my chagrin of being shown my gross oversight, we walked into the shop where Aboo recognized me with a smile and found my thawb. He had me try it on (perfect), handed me my new thawb with another warm smile. I ate crow and went back to the other shop to offer my sincere apologies. They all got a kick out of it and away and everything was complete. I was reminded yet again, at how warm and generous (and trustworthy) these people are. I was disappointed at not having brought my camera - I have to train myself to take it with me everywhere - as you never know when another unique experience in this land may confront you.

With that my journey is almost complete – two and a half days remaining, before I start my long journey home. Unfortunately, I almost had a few days in Istanbul lined up that didn’t work out. I have explained the need for us to exit the country every 30 days (based on when you went last). As we must do this on our time (weekends) my last out was April 11^th. 
Realizing that it seems pointless to fly to Bahrain or Dubai for the day only to come back for a couple of days and leave for good I enquired about extending the 30 day period for exceptions such as this. I was told that this is not done and you must leave by the May 11 (not doing so results in severe fines). As an alternative, I thought I could escape early by changing my flight for the leg from here to Istanbul, keep the remaining legs of my journey (to Toronto then Winnipeg) the same giving me two full days to enjoy Istanbul. Then continue with my original flights on the May 14 when I fly direct from Istanbul to Toronto. However the flight could not be changed (without a large change fee – that was essentially the price of purchasing another ticket). Unfortunately I did have to go out for the day again, another day trip to Bahrain. Although the flight is only one hour each way by the time I got home some 9 hours have passed. 

Good news is I do have an 7 hour layover in Istanbul and the lounge there is brilliant by all accounts. It is unfortunate that my timing is bad this time as Turkish Airlines has a great option for travellers of any class who are passing through Istanbul for more than six hours prior to their next flight. They offer a tour of the city free of charge including lunch. For me even with 7 hours I miss the tour times. The tour is from ten to three; sadly, I arrive at five am and depart at two pm. So with this my twelfth blog I will have one more blog left to write, assuming there is something to write about, of my journey home. 

Now time to get back to work. . . . . 

My three month journey to Saudi Arabia has almost come to an end
And I start the next journey of getting home following the earth’s bend