Category: Saudi Arabia (Page 5 of 8)

Last week my kiwi sidekick and I set out on a fun field trip to the National Museum in Riyadh. It’s located in the King Abdul Aziz Historical Center, and has a lovely courtyard/park area with a meandering man-made creek out front. It makes a great spot for people watching, or to have a picnic in. The museum is open for school visits in the mornings (segregated into boys and girls days) ad then open to the public from 12pm-2pm, and again from 4pm-8pm most days of the week.

Depending on how keen of a reader you are will determine how long you need. I’m not much of a museum reader and am more of a wanderer, so I had thought 90min would be plenty of time. You actually probably need at least 2 hours as the museum is quite large and spread over 2 floors. Longer if you want to read every single plaque. The museum opens with an exhibit called “Man and the Universe” with an enormous meteor and an exhibit of a rotating solar system with Koranic music playing. I really liked this bit. Then there was a section about the geology and geography of the Arabian peninsula and a dinosaur skeleton.

Outdoor park area

Man and the Universe exhibit

From here the following exhibits cover the ancient kingdoms of Arabia, the Pre-Islamic era with a display of ancient written languages and calligraphy. That was cool. They also had a section of recreated tombs from Mada’in Saleh which was interesting seeing as I visited there a few months back. You then take an escalator upstairs to an exhibit on The Prophet Mohammad’s Mission which had an interesting timeline of his life, and a family tree. You then cross over a bridge with beautifully ornate tiles inscribed with Arabic text into 2 exhibits about Islam and the Arabian Peninsula, and the First and Second Saudi states. There was a really cool exhibit which felt a little like being in Vegas or Disneyland in that there was a pretend market area with old buildings, and store fronts. There was also a gallery dedicated to the late King Abdul Aziz and how the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was established. The last exhibit was especially interesting (particularly so for non-Muslims) as it is about Hajj and the Two Holy Mosques and includes a miniature version of Makkah.

So should you have an afternoon free the National Museum is worth a visit. I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to live in a country you should know a little about it’s history. The museum will cost you 10riyals to get in. It’s kid friendly. High chances you’ll learn something, especially if you’ve yet to venture out to other parts of Saudi Arabia. To be honest, I had very low expectation for it, and it was a much better organized museum than I had imagined. So check it out people!

So one of the many fashion must-haves for women in Saudi Arabia is an abaya. You are required to wear one anytime you are out in public, or in my case when I’m off the hospital compound. Inside the hospital it isn’t required, and the other non-abaya places are in the Diplomatic Quarter or in western compounds. So naturally, if a girl has to cover she might as well look fashionable!

Abaya’s come in a variety of styles, but the most common colour for them by far is black. There is the pull over your head model that is useful when you don’t intend to take it off (as taking it off causes massive static electricity, and messes up your hair.) This is my go-to style when I’m going grocery shopping, running errands, or to the mall. Then there are the zipper or button front models for when you want to class it up a bit. The last time I lived here I bought this abaya that basically made me feel like a super hero. It had this sheer fabric bit in the back that looped out and attached to the end of my sleeves so I felt like an exotic princess/superhero. In theory this sounds amazing right? In actual fact the sleeves made eating very, very difficult, and they would get caught on everything making me resemble a marionette puppet because I couldn’t reach for things properly. Not cool abaya. Not cool.

Bedazzled abaya

My old superhero abaya

A few months ago I bought a very trendy abaya that was made in Dubai. It had a sheer lace top with a lining, and the base of it was a piece of beige fabric. So fashionable. Until I ripped a huge whole down the side of it in a taxi. Then it was a huge waste of money. So now I was sans a fashionable abaya. Earlier this week I ventured out to Deira Souk in hunt of a new abaya with my kiwi sidekick. Deira Souk has a bunch of abaya stores, and you can pick one up for anywhere between 80-150riyals. The day we went we were trailed by an older Saudi lady and her daughter who were very open about giving their fashion advice about which abaya we should buy. They were very vocal about their distaste for anything remotely flattering, and were giving us thumbs up for anything that fit us with the fashion style of being covered in a garbage bag. We thanked them for their “help” and quickly ditched them. In the third abaya shop that we went to I casually asked if they had anything with pockets. Abaya’s pretty much never have a pocket option, and its a pain in the butt as you have to carry a purse or risk misplacing your phone or keys as you have nowhere to put them. This my friends, is where I hit the abaya jackpot. Because, “yes mamm we have pockets” and out of the rack was the greatest abaya that has ever existed. It had a zipper front with 2 front pockets, and gold piping down the front, the sides, and around the pockets. I couldn’t have designed a better abaya. And then the man said something that almost made my head explode “mamm, we also have blue.” Blue. Midnight blue to be exact. With gold piping. If this abaya were a jackets and pants it would be the type of sporty outfit you see Indian men wearing. Part tracksuit, part workout gear, part abaya. Trendy, yet casual, yet retro. I had know idea I could love an abaya this much. So I am now the excited owner of a midnight blue abaya with gold piping. And pockets. Sir, you had me at pockets. So naturally I bartered a good price. And then asked the men where they were from. And they were from Bangladesh, one of my favourite countries I’ve visited. So I practiced the one Bengali word I know with them, and they were very impressed.

The End.

Growing up in Calgary Alberta I was used to weird weather phenomenons. Some days the weather felt like it ran the full spectrum of the 4 seasons. It could be a bitterly cold -25C winter day and yet the skies could be blue and the sun shining. Or it could be a full-on blizzard in June. One thing we didn’t get though, were sandstorms.

On Wednesday, I was at work and people kept talking about the wind picking up and that a sandstorm was coming. Working indoors makes it hard to get a clear (sandy) idea of what is actually happening outside the hospital walls. Sandstorms literally roll in like a huge wall of sand that clouds over the entire city. It gets very dark, and the sun is mostly blocked out to create this golden/brown aura. And then you start to taste the sand. And its a taste similar to dirt (not that I eat dirt people!) but it has a very dirty, gritty type taste and smell to it. Things start to look truly apocalyptic once you see people walking around the hospital compound in various types of medical masks with face shields thru the haziness of a sandstorm. It’s eery.

Now sandstorms and snowstorms do have an awful lot in common. They both make for terrible driving conditions. The wind causes the sand to literally drift across the road just as it does with blowing snow. Visibility gets very poor and it  becomes a near “sand-out” (white-out) conditions. Drivers for the most part slow-down and put their flashers on, or pull over to the side of the road. Unlike a snowstorm there is no shoveling to clean up the aftermath of a sandstorm, but there is a whole lot of sweeping and wiping everything down. Because even though you might have your housing area sealed up the sand finds a way of getting in. Walking in my apartment complex the ends of the hallways were hazy. Inside my apartment unit, there was a thick layer of sand coating everything. My tiled floor was super slippery. And the really gross part is that we breathe all that sand in. It’s a great way to pick up a respiratory infection. I tend to cough a lot and my voice sounds quite hoarse. It’s not very pleasant. The outdoor pool areas fill with sand and take on the resemblance of a beach area, instead of a chlorinated pool. I would hate to be a pool cleaner here.

I spent Thursday and Friday cleaning and wiping everything down. And today, the weather forecast is………..you guessed it. Dust. Seriously. I guess I cleaned too soon!

Hello there!! I’m back in Riyadh after spending 10 lovely days outside of the “sandpit” in Cyprus (more to come on this later!) . It was a much needed vacation, and it was difficult to want to come back. One of the things that made it a tad bit easier to return was that my Kiwi travel mate and I had agreed to dog-sit for some friends of ours who live in an undisclosed location in the Diplomatic Quarter, and we would have free run of their place in exchange for watching their 2 precious terriers.

The Diplomatic Quarter (DQ) is a secured area in Riyadh housing over 100 foreign embassies and consulates, as well as schools, stores and housing. There are secured gates to get in and out of the DQ with armed Saudi military patrolling the entrances and within the DQ itself. It’s like a different world in that women don’t have to wear an Abaya when out in public here and it has more of a western feel. Not western enough mind you that women are allowed to drive, but it does provided a taste of western freedom that many expats are accustomed to.

The place we are staying is palatial compared to our 1980’s shared accommodation provided by our hospital. It’s a 3 bedroom, 3 storied villa, with a lovely outdoor area and a BBQ that I’m pretty jazzed to grill a New Zealand steak on later tonight. We have an amazing security system with street view cameras and a “safe haven” in the event of intruders. One of the great things about the DQ is the abundance of park areas. They are everywhere, and often very beautiful with water fountains and play areas for the kids. It’s been really lovely walking the dogs around the neighbourhood. They are a big hit. Even at the guard stations.

The only down side of our dog sitting adventure is that we now have to commute to work instead of being able to walk to the hospital. This entails having a driver take us to and from our shifts at the hospital. Not being able to drive is often one of the most difficult things to living in Saudi Arabia. As a woman I am completely dependent on someone else to take me places. That means if they are late, you are late. If they don’t show up, you are stranded. It can be very, very frustrating. Let me describe yesterdays journey to you a bit. I start work at 7am, so normally leaving the DQ at 6:30 leaves plenty of time. My usual driver is home for the month in Pakistan so I’ve been using an Indian fellow. He was a little late. And then he said there was a lot of traffic on the side streets so the freeway would be quicker. As it turned out a camel would’ve been quicker. The freeway was basically a parking lot. The 4 lane freeway was packed at least 8 cars across everyone inching forward bumper to bumper. Some of the vehicles decided to pull the genius move of going the wrong way down the entrance ramp to take side streets. Others preferred to take the 4×4 option of jumping the curb and driving on the garden shoulder and bypassing the whole cluster!!  Sadly, my driver was not up for an early morning adventure. So we sat. And inched forward. And sat some more. After 45 minutes I eventually made it to work. Oh wells……..

So that’s been my week. More on Cyprus very, very soon…..

Generally speaking banking can be a frustrating endeavor in any country, but I suspect that Saudi has most countries beat. We have a bank on the hospital compound, and several ATMs throughout the hospital. Unfortunately, given the delay of getting my Igama (permanent residence card) I have been bank-accountless the last 3 months. Basically this means that when I get issued my old-school paychecks I have to head over to the bank and cash the entire monthly salary and then bribe or sweet talk someone (thanks Katie!!) to wire my money for me. Sounds simple enough right……well with most things in Saudi this would be a dead wrong assumption. So you head over to the bank and unless you are crazy, or desperate for cash, you avoid going within a couple days of payday. Sadly, I was the latter so I bravely headed over the day after payday. I had heard that the day before things were really out of hand and that the police had almost been called because there were so many people packed in and no one was cuing. This I can definitely believe.

So anyways, I get to the bank and take a ticket from the cuing machine, which seems like a foolproof idea to keep things orderly except that often times men (in particular) act as though it is below them to wait in line, and just walk right up, or cut to the front. Often times said men are wearing a destinguishable white lab coat. So, there are 4 tellers, and its quite rare to see all the tellers open at once. From my astute observations skills this is how things seem to work. The teller signals the teaboy who brings tea, and the teller takes a sip of tea. He then adjusts this head scarf. His mobile phone rings he answers it. Chats. Takes a sip of tea. Calls a customer forward. Helps customer. Sends a text. Sips tea. Adjusts head scarf. Customer. Repeat. Its fascinating. And equally frustrating. Now to be fair, they might be making work related calls. I have no idea. And since I’ve never worn a male head scarf on my head I can’t fairly comment on the degree of skill is takes to keep them properly balanced in place. So finally, finally its my turn. I go up to cash my cheque. The teller informs me that he has just run out of cash. And I’m like “ha ha, very funny” and then I remember that Saudi’s don’t often crack jokes, so to convince me he shows me his empty cash drawer. He calls over to his colleague a couple seats down (who has headphones in) and requests more cash. Headphone guy is not quick to respond (I imagine he did not hear him). Again a request for cash is made. Tick toc. So while I’m standing there the teller asks me if I want a cookie. And well, there’s nothing else to do so, yeah, I’ll eat a cookie. So I do. And it’s tasty. And then the teller says “a sweet for a sweet.” Huh. That’s a new one for me. So by this point the cash guy finally comes over with several stacks of bills. And the teller informs me that the bank is out of 500 riyal notes (the largest bills they have- worth about $125US) and that all they have are 100 riyal notes (worth about $25US.) So literally, my entire monthly pay was given to me in $25US increments. I had 2 thick bricks of bills by the time he was done. Held together by elastics bands, gangster style. I took them home and spent the afternoon resisting laying on my bed and throwing the bills up in the air to make it rain money. The only thing preventing me from doing this is that money is super dirty and the fear that I might lose some behind the bed.

On Saturday I went back to the bank because the bank is open for a couple hours in the morning and seeing as the Saudi weekend is Friday/Saturday I figured it would be quiet and I could open my account without any major incidents. Haha! My optimism about Saudi sometimes is hilarious. It’s almost like I forget what a complete cluster most things are and expect opening a bank account to be a smooth process. So I take a ticket and sit. Its 9:15am and the bank opens at 9am. 9:30 rolls on and the money is still being counted, and none of the female customers have been helped. 9:45 and then I realize that the area designated for opening new accounts is empty- empty of employees. So I stroll over to customer service to make sure that they do actually open accounts on the weekend. And the guys says yes, there are 2 guys scheduled. And I’m like “what time do they start?” And he’s like “9am” and then my brain clues in and I ask “what time do they usually show up, or rather do they actually show up?” And all the nice customer service guy can do is direct me to the managers office. Who calls the guys. And gets no answer. And so I leave. And so this week when I’m feeling an abundance of patience I will try and open a bank account. For now I’ll just count my stacks of cash and pretend that I’m loaded.

Saudi is both an endlessly fascinating and frustrating place. The only real way for a westerner to cope is to see the humour in it. It’s pretty hard to stay angry when you’re laughing about the absurdness of a situation. At least that has proved to be my best coping skill. Also next week I’m heading to Cyprus and Qatar for a lovely week and a half!! Yeah!!

RIP. 1924-2015

So yesterday it was announced that King Abdullah died here in Riyadh just shortly after midnight. I woke up Friday morning with several messages from friends back home informing me, and asking if things were ok. The event was not unexpected as earlier this month he was admitted to hospital with reported pneumonia and was placed on a ventilator. He was 90 years old when he passed. King Abdullah was much beloved by the people of Saudi Arabia. He was buried yesterday in Riyadh following a funeral prayer at Asr prayer time (the afternoon). In keeping with religious traditions he was swathed in white cloth and buried in an unmarked grave prior to the next sundown. Only males are allowed to visit the grave. Memorial services have also been planned in Riyadh over the next few days allowing for the public to attend and diplomats from the International community.

King Salman the former Crown Prince was sworn in as the new King yesterday after evening prayers. King Salman is himself in his late 70’s. He takes the throne at a time when Saudi Arabia is surrounded by tensions to the North in Iraq and the growing tensions to its southern border Yemen. Inshallah this transition will be a smooth one….

So I’m sure you’ve been asking yourself “I wonder whatever happened with Kristine’s Saudi paperwork nightmare?” Well, let me assure you, it’s been nothing short of exciting. The other day I went to the passport office to inquire as to whether my Igama was ready. In the event that you’re confused or just reading my blog for the first time an Igama is a residency card. You need this card to open a bank account and get an exit/re-entry visa to allow you to leave the country. Seeing as my 90 days of being in the Kingdom have passed and I’m still bank accountless I’m very keen to do both these things. So I’m at the passport office and they tell me that yes, my Igama is processed and the lovely lady goes into the back to get it, and while she’s gone I’m basically high-fiving myself over my amazing luck that this bloody ordeal is now over. In hindsight the mental high-fiving was maybe not such a good idea. Because the lady comes back, and she’s got a card in her hand. And its an Igama. My Igama. And she’s completing the paperwork, and then she says these dreaded words…..”your name wrong on card.” And I’m like, lady don’t joke with me. I can read my name and its spelt right. And she says “Arabic name is wrong.” And I can’t confirm or deny this because, the only Arabic I read are numbers, and last time I checked my last name didn’t have any numbers in it. So I calmly ask her how big of a problem this is, and what can we do about it. And she says “bank will not accept” and that it would take another 7 business days to get the name changed. And because I didn’t know what else to do my eyes welled up, and I tried not to cry out of sheer frustration. And then I asked to speak to the man who originally helped organize my papers. So I was led into a back office where I was handed a magnifying glass (no joke) and was shown where the mistakes were made (even though I still can’t read Arabic). I was then instructed that the mistake was likely not that big of a deal and when I said “but I need to open a bank account” the reply was “just don’t tell them the name is wrong, maybe they won’t notice.” Solid advice.

So I crawled back to the office of a lovely secretary who works for my department and told her my sob story. She made a phone call to someone in charge and walked me back over to the passport department. All the while holding my hand. Hand holding is very common here, not man-woman, but woman-woman, and man-man. Even though it’s common it still feels a little odd, but I knew she was trying to make me feel better about the situation. So we went to a guys office. It was fancy. I told him my sad story. He made a phone call. After he hung up he said the correction would take 24 hours. That was last week. I’m still waiting. Fingers crossed tomorrow. It’s all so frustrating, as per my contract I can’t leave the country for 90 days. Well that 90 days are over and I should be able to leave but I’m trapped until it all gets straightened out. I have vacation coming up the beginning of February as my kiwi sidekick and I are going to Cyprus……if I can get this paperwork all sorted in time. So the saga continues………

Saudi Arabia……one continuous lesson in patience.