'W’ is for ‘When can I go home please…?’
It has been a while since my last blog, and my only excuse for my extended absence since week 8 is that I’ve been experiencing the dreaded phenomenon known as the ‘W’ effect among travellers and adventurers, when you come down from the high of your exciting experience with a very rude bump. It came suspiciously after that wonderful seaside break in Dammam, returning on the rickety train to the dusty heart of the desert with the knowledge that the University would not allow us another break for the next 8 months. In a nutshell I’d really been missing home, coupled with the fact that I was getting fed up with all the negative stuff that is difficult to deal with here.
‘C’ is for Christmas. It's banned.
Christmas in Saudi Arabia, my first ever away from home, was an incredibly surreal experience for me, even though I knew before I came that the heavily Islamic government forbade the slightest acknowledgment of Christmas festivities.
I had started to listen to carols from the middle of November in order to combat the inevitable onset of festive nostalgia, but they’ve done such a sterling job of blotting out any hint of Christmas celebrations that when a friend in Riyadh told me he was leaving to spend the holidays in Dubai, I didn’t have a clue what ‘holidays’ he was talking about until after the conversation!
So Christmas day found us trudging dejectedly to work and whispering excited ‘Merry Christmas’ to each other in our staffrooms. The bravest among us baked homemade Christmas treats to share at work, and the more efficient ones had for weeks been arranging Secret Santa circles, and I even heard on the grapevine that a few people had actually managed to smuggle in some Christmas cards and wrapping paper from the neighbouring, more tolerant, Arab states during their recent visits.
But it’s actually not as depressing as it sounds. Everyone living here finds their own way of celebrating Christmas, so it is quite easy to find something to do with the large population of ex-pats and foreign workers who club together to substitute family and friends back home. You really can’t survive in Saudi without a network of other foreigners.
My personal experience of Christmas in Saudi Arabia didn’t exactly risk the wrath of the mutawa (religious authorities), but it was sufficient as I was too ill with a cold to make it to any of the various secret embassy parties around the Diplomatic Quarter. On Christmas Eve a few of us organised another trip back to the Globe Restaurant in the Faisaliah building, which was a nice treat.
We could have done with a glass of mulled wine and some turkey, but we were content with the subtle Mince Pies and Stollen cake the chefs craftily sneaked onto the menu for the buffet:
Then on Christmas Day I was invited to have Christmas dinner with an Egyptian family who were actually Muslim, but insisted on celebrating Christian festivals as well. We had a blast, and while I sorely missed my mum’s mouth-watering Christmas spread, it was nice to have the warmth of a really welcoming family, and some friends, around me on Christmas day, and the Egyptian food was a great substitute!
The family were incredibly sweet, although I was worried that the Christmas tunes they were playing on full blast would attract unwelcome attention from the mutawa, and they even decorated a Christmas tree for us!
Christmas Day with the Egyptian family was also the first – and last – time I tried the famous Arab hookah. They come in all sorts of fruity flavours, and although the mint and apple fumes were delicious, more than a small mouthful made me sputter and exposed me as a hookah virgin...
The students in one of my classes had realised that I was going through a patch of homesickness in the last few weeks, and they surprised me with a (forbidden) YouTube video rendition of ‘God save the Queen’ as a surprise for me when I walked into the class.
A couple of these same students defiantly wished me a Merry Christmas, even though I warned them not to because I could potentially get in trouble for influencing them towards non-Islamic celebrations. And another of my students had her mum bake me a whole box of date pastries just because I had fleetingly mentioned how much I liked Saudi dates.
So generally, I have been well looked after in my ‘W’ periods over the last few weeks, and I’m sure I’ll be back at the top of another exciting curve soon.
‘I’ is for ‘iqama’…
In order to be privy to full benefits as an employee in Saudi Arabia, you must have the golden ticket called an ‘iqama’, which can be issued to you from anything between 2 days to 6 months, depending on who you are buddies with – or who you’ve pissed off – at the embassy.
Some of us teachers are still waiting for our iqamas a record 4 months on, mainly due to the incompetency of our agency, but we were told they were about to be issued soon, ‘insha'allah’, and so it was IMPERATIVE for us to do the mandatory medical test IMMEDIATELY in order for them to process the application STRAIGHTAWAY. (There’s always this laughable façade of urgency about Saudis they must think equals professionalism, even though everyone knows the thing in question is never going to get done as immediately as they claim).
So we went to a clinic which specialises in the iqama medical tests – you know where you are because there’ll be a long queue of foreigners outside the bathroom holding 2 passport-sized photos and 2 tubes for ‘samples’.
After the official chest scan, bloods and pregnancy test, they shoved 2 little containers at us – demanding we produce two ‘samples’ to complete the test. Yep – if you want the golden ticket, you gotta produce the goods on demand! Those who were able to ‘produce’ on demand were mortified to be walking through the poorly-segregated clinic clutching their number containers of 1s and 2s, but eventually the nurse just told the rest of us to 'produce’ the prblematic sample the following morning and send the driver to deliver them to the reception after he’d dropped us at work. Yes, you read that right!
It was very funny explaining to our poor driver the urgency at which he was required to deliver our samples ASAP to the clinic the next day...
AND IN OTHER NEWS…
Baby, it’s cold outside
…No seriously, you have to believe me when I say mornings and evenings are now quite cold here – at one point it was something like 10◦c in London, and 13◦c in Riyadh, so actually we’re not so far off from the big chill. I’m currently recovering from my second bout of the cold in 2 months, and bugs spread very quickly in this climate.
Thoughts on my new abaya?!
I thought I'd go for some heavy embroidery on the cuffs and down the front...
A belated Happy New Year to all!
Mimi in Arabia xx
