The Kingdom

A 6-hour plane ride is all it takes to change your life radically. We took this plane ride from Paris to Bahrain. I won’t go into details, but even though we flew business class, it was working class for me all the way as Lila hurtled up and down the aisles, pulling blankets off sleeping businessmen and picking scraps of dirt off the floor and eating them. By the time we landed in Bahrain late that evening I was a mess and about to suffer a mental and physical breakdown. But then Julien showed up and we had to drive two more hours to Saudi Arabia.

Theoretically it takes two hours to cross the border from Bahrain to Saudi, but Thursday evening is the worst time to cross the border. The weekends in Saudi fall on Thursdays and Fridays (in Qatar it was Fridays and Saturdays), and a lot of people flee to  neighboring, freedom-loving Bahrain to get their fill of movies, alcohol, pork, and the pleasure of walking around in public without the abaya (for women).

At the border I had to get my fingerprinting done, and for the first time that humid evening I had to put on my abaya. The feeling was weird – I had of course tried it on several times (I had primarily bought it in Qatar for a desert party we were having then, where we all had to wear the traditional Qatari costumes) – but this time I had to wear it and it made all the difference in the world. I felt like I was melting into the background. And in Saudi, if you’re a woman, this could actually be a good thing. But for me, it’s still a cloth prison.

Anyway, we’re now living in a compound in Jubail. It’s wild. There are barracks at the entrance with a machine gun, armed guards, barbed wire. Once you get through the three security stops, it’s a different world. A little fountain greets you. There are trees all around. It’s like a set of Desperate Housewives – matching houses, front porches, backyards with a barbeque set, the works. There is a grocery store, two Olympic size pools, tennis and squash courts, a gym, a restaurant, a library, a park. It’s the entire world in a little bubble in the desert.  There is a bus that drops off and picks up women to different places in the city – the fish market, the malls, the big grocery chains, and even McDonald’s – but it follows a strict schedule and I haven’t dared to take it yet with Lila.

So many things to get used to. Women here cannot drive. Women cannot venture outside without their husbands or a male family member, and when outside they must wear the abaya (Sidenote: In Qatar, Qatari women wore abayas, but theirs were almost figure-hugging, alluringly sexy, cut and fitted to a flattering shape. Abayas here hide the shape of the body, no matter how old you are. And about 90% of the women here cover their faces). There is no alcohol here, only fake alcoholic drinks that, as expected, tastes like shit (In Qatar, we had alcohol licenses and an alcohol shop in the middle of the desert – this sounds like heaven right now). There are no cinemas here. Public places close five times a day during prayer time – last week we were at Ikea lining up at the cashier when the call of prayer sounded, and everything closed down; we waited 30 minutes for the prayer to end before things picked up again.

A friend of mine who lived here for 8 years reassured me that it usually takes around 3 months before getting used to life in the Kingdom. So do stick around. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Currently listening to:
Midlake
Courage of Others