This blog will take you to places you’ve always wanted to see and to some you may only have heard of. Its purpose – to immerse you in extraordinary tastes and colors, smells, sights and experiences, infecting you, or perhaps aggravating, an already serious case of wanderlust.
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France – The Start Of It All
Even now it’s hard to believe they let me do it – take off for a year in France on my own at 19. Did some greater power, foreseeing my future, cloud parental judgment? Were my pleading letters from college that convincing? (Please, you have to say yes. This is the only opportunity I’ll ever have to see the world!) Or was it a lot simpler? Transportation, living expenses and tuition at the University of Grenoble cost a third less than staying at Beloit College for my junior year.
Odds are it was the money. Whatever the cause, a miracle is a miracle.
I sailed from NYC on one of the last voyages of the French Line’s aging cruise ship Liberte – D deck, sharing two sets of bunk beds in a tiny interior room with three elderly French women. It was August and steamy. The air in our cabin, far from fresh as we set sail, became a lot more pungent during the seven day crossing. Ship’s engines throbbed somewhere beyond the steel walls of our lemon yellow cubicle. Our ‘stateroom’, well hidden in a rabbit warren of corridors, wasn’t easy to find under the best of circumstances, but after a drink or two…. Daydreams of glamorous international travel evaporated. Still, incredibly, I was on my way to France!
Just a few months earlier I had listened, entranced, to the escapades of two girls in my dorm, just returned from a year studying French in Grenoble, not on the unaffordable college-sponsored program, but through enrolling on their own. I dashed off a letter to the address they gave me and, a few weeks later, heart fluttering, opened a flimsy brown envelope. Inside was a letter of acceptance to the University of Grenoble’s Comite de Patronage des Etudiants Etrangers. Tuition for the year – $60.
Let’s just say that I was not a star in freshman French. But with the prospect of a junior year abroad, I managed to raise my game to finish the second year with a B. That seemed respectable enough. I was a little worried that we seldom actually spoke French in class, but, after all, I was going to France to learn the language, wasn’t I?
My first brush with panic struck in the arrivals hall after La Liberte docked in Le Havre. I understood not a word of the babel washing over me. Fear froze my brain as I faced the impatient glare of the man behind the ticket window, with no hope of retrieving the words I needed to buy a train ticket to Grenoble. Rescue came in the form of one my elderly bunk mates who, seeing my terror, intervened and got me on board the right train. She even engaged an old man in my compartment, explaining my predicament in a tone of voice and with gestures that conveyed, even to me, the hopelessness of my situation.
At the Grenoble station, this second elderly angel helped me with my bags and then came with me in a cab to a spartan but respectable hotel. Pity in his eyes, he took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Goodbye,” he said, the only English word I heard him speak. I watched as the taxi disappeared around the corner, taking with it my last lifeline.
What had I gotten myself into?
Saudi Arabia – The Kingdom’s Two Faces
The souks and malls are packed with goods, but everything is imported. I have given up on finding authentic souvenirs; the only indigenous products I’ve identified are dates. However, if you want Dunkin Doughnuts, KFC, Burger King, Hardy’s, Pizza Hut, Haagan Daas, CinnaBun and, of course, Starbucks and MacDonalds (30 in Riyadh) you’re in luck. Malls feature all the designer labels, cars, jewelry and electronics those with unlimited budgets could desire.
The Kingdom’s enormous oil income is controlled by the government – largely made up of the Saud family. Wealth is funneled to the elite through systems of commissions for all sorts of ‘services’ to help push the money around, for example, agent’s fees to ‘facilitate’ foreign investment. An estimated 60% of private business is funded directly by the state, which often provides cheap land, interest-free loans and tax holidays.
Then there is the other Saudi Arabia, the one that doesn’t make the news.
Writers have been jailed for reporting on it, but the estimate is that 22% of Saudi’s live in poverty. Half live in drab, unsanitary pre-fab apartment houses with their animals and in-laws. Three quarters are illiterate, infant mortality is high and life expectancy low. Devout Wahabis, they are the mullah’s power base and benefit most from government subsidies of food and energy costs, coverage of medical and education expenses and payment of $7,000 toward a woman’s bride-price based on a means test (and good mosque attendance).
The last night of Ramadan – it’s official – a sliver of crescent moon has been sited and the whole country is partying. It is also the last night of our stay here. Our team celebrates with dinner on the 77th floor of our hotel, The Four Seasons, at it’s restaurant, Il Spazio.
This place gives new meaning to ‘over the top’ – blood red walls, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, a Bedouin tent spread with carpets for those awaiting tables, menus that light up with purple neon, waiters dressed in black with gold sparkles on their sleeves. We are the first customers at 9:00 p.m. When we leave at 11 things are starting to pick up.
After dinner we take the elevator to the sky-walk that connects the two points of the bishop’s mitre – at the 99th floor. Inching my way out onto this platform – enclosed as it is – gives me goose bumps and a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It is a fitting experience for my last night in The Kingdom, a place more foreign than I could have imagined five weeks ago.
Today we briefed the Ambassador. We did good work here.
Tonight I’ll put on my abaya for the last time. At 11:30 the armored van picks us up for our 2 a.m. flight. By Friday morning I will be in NYC.
Time to exhale!
Next – Something Completely Different
Saudi Arabia – The Wierdness of Everyday Living
We are currently at the Four Seasons – the one shaped like a bishop’s mitre. It has all the amenities including a beautiful pool and fully equipped gym – neither of which is available to me – a woman. I watch with envy as my male colleagues head for the pool after work. I return to my room to read until dinner.
The hotel is connected to one of the more extravagant malls and has an upscale food court. You order at the counter, normal enough, but here the counters are divided – a men’s side and a women’s side with a partition between. Once served, you carry your food either to the men’s dining area or to the ‘family’ dining area, the two separated by a wall
The religious police patrol the malls, so I pull my veil well forward. At least in the malls the air conditioning mitigates the black polyester. It’s a strangely colorless site – men in white, women in black against white marble walls.
Forget trying on your purchase before you buy it – there are no changing rooms in clothing stores for women. You hold the garment up to your abaya and guess. All the stores are staffed by men, the exception being stores selling lingerie. Their windows are completely curtained, no display of skimpy undies, of course, and only women are allowed inside.
In desperate need of a haircut, I go to a place recommended by the Embassy nurse – an American married to a Saudi. Hours – 1 p.m. to 1 a.m. I ring a bell to be admitted and am greeted by a large ‘No Men Allowed ‘ sign. The second floor salon is a little bit of Manila. The staff are Philipina, walls painted lavender with containers of artificial flowers everywhere. Lena is very nice and gives me a hair cut I can live with.
My hotel is right across the multi-laned highway from the shop and it seems ridiculous to call for a car and driver. I ignore Embassy instructions and start walking, looking for an intersection. The sidewalk gives out after half a block and I’m now much too close to cars whizzing by at breathtaking speeds. In the dark, I’m not sure they can see me in my black garb, nor am I sure I want to be seen – an infidel female in the dark walking beside a busy highway.
Suddenly, I feel very vulnerable.
I never do find an intersection, but dart across the highway. Once safely inside the hotel, I breathe again, shaken, realizing how reckless my simple decision to cross the street was.
It’s beginning to sink in – even with my superficial daily experiences – what it is like to be a Saudi woman. Officially, their status is that of minors, i.e., each Saudi woman must have a male guardian who approves all major facets of her life – travel, marriage, education, employment, and most of the minor ones. She may not drive a car or take public transportation on her own, including taxis.
The supposed purpose of the abaya is to protect men from the lust women automatically incite should a man see any part of their bodies, in other words, to make them invisible.
Even with my limited experience of the abaya, I, too, begin to feel invisible, diminished, fearful, but somehow protected from what would be the disgusted or leud stares I would certainly receive without it . It is a powerful tool.
Next – The Other Saudi Arabia
Saudi Arabia – Just Me and the Fish
One hot and muggy evening in Jeddah, colleagues take us to the souk where shopping doesn’t begin until 9 p.m. due to the heat. One of our party is interested in gold, and the shops are multiple and glittering, the gold sold by weight – no charge for workmanship. Styles are all ornately filligreed – not something to wear in Port Townsend. Leaving the gold souk, we wind our way through alleys and finally come upon ‘old Jeddah’ – three or four attractive four- story buildings with ornately carved wooden balconies. That’s all there is. We make our way to the agreed pick-up point – all of us parched. In search of something liquid, we enter a cafe but are quickly and brusquely ushered out – it’s for men only. It takes a while to find an outdoor stall where we can all quench our thirst.
Our weekend here is Thursday and Friday. I have yet to get used to this. On Thursday last, three of us and a consulate driver left Jeddah about 9 a.m., heading for the beach – well, a very particular beach run by the Sheraton Hotel for non-Saudis only. Saudis do, of course, go to the beach, but not with the infidels and especially not with women wearing western style bathing suits. Saudi women, I understand, wear something full length. (How to keep from drowning?) We drive along the Corniche. Some ambitious mayor in the 80’s spent a lot of money buying sculptures to beautify this drive, but unfortunately they are not very good, and are placed haphazardly on slap-dash pedestals. The effect is unfortunate.
We head out past the airport and see from a distance the special terminal for Hajj pilgrims – about 3 million arrive every year. There are acres of metal tent-like structures to shade pilgrims until they are put on buses to be transported to Mecca and Medina.
You can make the pilgrimage outside of the Hajj, although you don’t get quite as much credit. That pilgrimage is called an umra. My first encounter with the umra folk was boarding the plane to Jeddah with a large number of men in white bath towels. This is the required garb – no seams – together with a white belt (think weight lifter) and sandals. Their women are, of course, in the omnipresent abaya, but, for extra points, most have faces covered by a see-through mask making the heat build up even more intense – a portable sauna. (An officer at the Consulate said he asked a Saudi contact why black and why polyester in 100+ degrees. He was told it’s to make sure women don’t spend too much time away from home.)
A queer sight from the air was what looked like whole towns of streets and street lights in the middle of the desert, but no buildings. We were told this is land owned by royals who have plotted it out for future development. Very strange.
On past the airport, we drive by occasional compounds with high walls. Over their tops we see lush greenery and huge villas. Surrounding these estates is vacant desert piled with building debris and garbage. We pass the compound of Prince Bandar and his mom – he just returned from many years as SA’s ambassador to the US. About 45 minutes out we reach our destination, drive through the gate and leave our driver. We find a small building with a few snorkels, fins and pressure tanks. We rent snorkel equipment and head for the water. Palm trees, cabanas for shade and a warm breeze.
Into the big bathtub that is the Red Sea, snorkel on, I enter another world. The water is clear and blue, the coral all shades and shapes – purples, reds, pinks – with minute moving fingers. Large clam creatures partially embedded in the coral, suck water in and out. And the fish! Tiny little black and white ones in swarms, pointy-nosed yellow ones with orange and green stripes, 18 inch long rainbow-colored fat ones. And so many more. They allow me into their universe, pay no attention and swim around me. I lie in the water with no need to move and let the show go on and on. I am perfectly free for the first time since arriving here.
Just me and the fish.
Next – Everyday life in The Kingdom
Saudi Arabia – Pushing the Envelope in Jeddah
Last night I was invited to my first private Iftar – the breaking of the Ramadan fast – held at Dar al-Hekma (House of Wisdom), the first women’s liberal arts college in The Kingdom. I went with the Public Affairs Officer from Consulate General Jeddah.
What to expect, as I exited our armored van amid a flock of black clad and veiled invitees?
We entered the four-story atrium filled with tables for ten done up in blue velvet and gold ribbon. Along one curving wall were table after table laden with ornate gold-colored serving dishes. The Dean of the college and its founding mother greeted us with many kisses on both cheeks. and led us to the center table. As the male caterers departed, the abayas and veils came off, and there were 450 women of all ages in a range of dress from elegant, flowing caftans to skin-tight jeans and sweaters (students) – quite a transformation! (Parties with other women are the only allowable social life for females in The Kingdom and at such an affair outside the month of Ramadan, they would be dressed to the nines – designer evening wear, lots of jewelry, dramatic make up – all for their female friends.)
The guests approached to meet the strangers – it was really quite wonderful to be greeted with such warmth and in such good English. They seemed genuinely delighted that we had come. And so we broke the fast with dates and something very special – pitchers of holy water from Abraham’s well in Mecca – said to do wonders for all sorts of ailments. As guests, we were led to the serving tables first but were soon engulfed by very hungry women who had not eaten or drunk for 15 hours. (The concept of the queue is not well-developed here, even under the best of circumstances.) The food was excellent – Iftar dishes that are becoming more familiar.
Over dinner, the woman responsible for getting the college built told us more. At a cost of $14,000 for tuition (with many scholarships available), young women follow a liberal arts curriculum for the first two years and then study graphic design, interior design, computer systems, nursing or special education. The first class graduated last year. 40% were offered jobs, 20% went on to graduate studies. The others probably got married. (This private institution was the gift of 12 VERY wealthy donors. It is a beautiful building with the latest of everything – much of it done in shades of pink.)
Some companies are receptive to hiring their graduates, but, of course, they cannot work in offices with men, though they can interact via meetings. Men calling to inquire about purchasing computer systems are shocked when a woman answers the phone, she said. After the initial daze wears off, they normally get on with business. Most of their graduates are employed in banks catering only to women, car dealers selling Mercedes to female clients, etc, etc. It all sounds so very hard.
Jeddah is the most open of Saudi cities, having long been the commercial capital and, until the 80’s the capital of the country. The envelope is being pushed here, but even so our host, a Ph.D. and college administrator, related her recent experience in trying to open a joint bank account with her husband. The bank couldn’t understand the concept, she said, but finally agreed. They received their first statement addressed to her husband’s name followed by ‘and wife’. They hadn’t yet accepted that she had a name. She told us that Saudi Arabia is unique in that it is a rich country. Most women here lead very comfortable lives with imported servants, nice homes, drivers. Unlike women with fewer advantages, they are less likely to push for change, or to understand what they are missing. How to change these attitudes? Education and time, was her answer – open up the world to them so they can see its possibilities. This college is a small start in that direction.
As we left, robed and veiled agian, the facilities director, a beautiful young woman, from the little I could see of her, took my hand. She wanted to make sure I understood the reason for Ramadan “We fast as a sacrifice”, she said, “to give up what is most necessary, in order that we may experience what it is like to be poor. At the end of fasting, we have been transformed and give with joy to the poor as the Prophet has instructed – of our salaries 10%, of our wealth 2.5 %. The latter is collected from businesses by the government and distributed. We give the 10% as we choose.”
Next – Terror in the Kingdom
