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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Saudi Arabia – Riyadh – At the Kingdom’s Heart
Until the exploitation of oil in the 60’s, Riyadh was a small town of mud brick buildings, the remains of which, on the outskirts of the modern city, are worth a visit . The capital of The Kingdom since the 80’s, Riyadh is now a sprawling city of 4 million.
There are some stunning buildings – the Foreign Ministry looks like a huge spaceship.
The building housing the Four Seasons hotel is in a skyscraper shaped like a bishop’s mitre, The King Faisal tower – also very tall – is a needle. Most of the rest of the city is three or four storied buildings and everything is in shades of sand – ranging from cream to camel.
Housing is in walled compounds. I am struck by the amount of greenery along the main highways and public places and more struck by the effort it takes to maintain it. With no precipitation, every plant is on drip irrigation – a gigantic undertaking. There are, of course, palm trees of all sizes, green creeping ground covers, bougainvillea, frangipani bushes, many grasses, and, most surreal – topiaried shrubs lining several highways. There are also fountains in all public places – an abundance of water. Where it comes from and how much is left, is something I definitely want to find out.
The Embassy is located in the Diplomatic Quarter – an area set aside when the capital moved here – to isolate the foreigners and, I’m sure, keep them from contaminating Riyadh with their infidel ways. We set out each morning from our hotel in armored cars, a different route each day. Getting into the DQ with the current security concerns is quite amazing. There are red and white painted ‘jersey’ barriers – those big concrete blocks – forming a slalom course prior to the checkpoint, sandbagged, manned by Saudi military guards on armored personnel carriers with machine gun mounts. Diplomatic license plates have a special lane which gets us through fairly quickly. Everyone else goes through the check point and long lines develop in the morning. All those who work in the quarter live outside and endure this hassle daily.
Entering the DQ is nothing compared to getting into the Embassy compound. Sally ports, razor wire, man traps, slalom course, Gurkhas, more tanks, more machine guns and multiple checks – we have it all.
The DQ is about two miles by four miles in size. All the street signs are in Arabic, and the buildings, some of them quite beautiful, are all the same color and of similar fort-like construction. I would definitely need breadcrumbs to keep from getting lost. Lots of greenery-planted roundabouts and gushing fountains. Everything walled. No pedestrians on the streets. It has the eerie feeling of a high-end ghost town.
All Embassy staff are housed here in apartments or townhouses – very comfortable but jail like with bars on windows and doors and air raid sirens on roofs. Wearing an abaya is not required in the quarter, though some take that precaution. The religious police – Mutaween – have been known to come into the DQ and harass western-clad women.
No American embassy employee may travel outside the DQ unless in an armored vehicle with an Embassy driver. As all grocery and other shopping is outside the area, the burden on the motor pool is huge and they are available 24/7. The drivers are all non-Saudis – as are all but two of our other local employees. Saudi Arabia lives on imported workers – six million of them from surrounding Arab states, the Far East and Sub-Continent. Almost no Saudis will take blue-collar jobs – or white-collar jobs, for that matter.
Next – Some real Saudi women.
Saudi Arabia – The Kingdom in the Midst of Ramadan
It took us about 24 hours to get here, what with our layover in Zurich, so we all arrived pretty wiped out. Bleary eyed, we stumbled into the terminal to be met by embassy expediters and wisked into the VIP lounge – not the real, ROYAL, VIP lounge, but VIP lounge none the less. Beige stone, carpets, chandeliers, burgundy velvet upholstered furniture so low I had to do a deep knee bend and then some to sit down. The only other occupants were Saudi men dressed in their white ‘thobes’ – long robes, with the red checkered scarf and black headpiece to hold it on – think Yassar Arrafat. Actually their mocha skin, black mustaches, and black eyes are stunning against the white. Very becoming garb. Two of the American staff there to meet us – women – were in abayas. They had brought us loaners – mine was about a foot too long. Eventually we were led to the embassy vans – fully armored – and taken to the Intercontinental.
It is Ramadan here, so breakfast for the infidels is well hidden away from 
those fasting – down a long corridor to another building, up to the 6th floor, down another corridor and behind a screen, is a lovely room overlooking the city with a buffet of all you shouldn’t eat – pastries, smoked salmon, cheeses, lots of middle-eastern thing, beef bacon, turkey sausages, fried potatoes and eggs to order. On my NEW regime, I pass all this up for excellent fresh fruit, low fat, very good yogurt which I top with honey, and a slice of fresh whole grain bread. This huge hotel is nearly empty, as far as we can tell. Maybe because of Ramadan.
For the Saudi’s Ramadan fasting starts at about 3:30 a.m. – when you can distinguish a black thread from a white thread. It lasts until about 5:30 – sunset. One breaks the fast by consuming a few dates and water. If you happen to be driving at sunset, there are boys at traffic lights handing out little boxes with a bottle of water and dates. A charming touch.
are black polyester and heads are often covered first by a black polyester mask arrangement and then wrapped in a black polyester scarf. As I’m in the Embassy all day, I have worn my abaya (a new one of proper length), without mask, only in the evening when it is relatively cool. But still, with my head covered I feel as if I’m being poached. Last night we had a quick tour of the gold market in the souk. (They tell us we are relatively safe if guided by an embassy employee, if we don’t retrace our steps and if we are in and out in less than 45 minutes.) In poaching mode, I let my head covering slip to my shoulders, and almost immediately an open jeep filled with religious police pulled along side us, all its occupants shouting and pointing at me. Very unnerving. I will remain poached.
Saudi Arabia – The Kingdom – Let The Adventure Begin
In 2005 I was part of an eight person team sent to inspect the operation of the U.S. mission to Saudi Arabia including our embassy in Riyadh and consulates in Jeddah and Daharan. My particular job was to evaluate the mission’s political and economic reporting and advocacy. From messages home:
Two days and counting to departure for Saudi Arabia. Three weeks in DC have gone quickly – there is so much to learn. Someone called it a 12th century absolute monarchy with unlimited resources. One thing is for sure – this is a fascinating, forbidding culture – one I look forward (with some trepidation) to experiencing for real.
Because it is so closed (no tourist visas, thanks), normal outside sources don’t exist and Embassy reporting is vital on key issues like counter terrorism (especially financing), oil, and Saudi Arabia’s influence on the world’s millions of Muslims. (The King is not referred to as King of Saudi Arabia , but rather as Keeper of the Two Holy Places – Mecca and Medina.) With all its faults, the Saud family is the only significant force for moderation in a country whose culture is solidly based on a form of Islam extremely opposed to most things Western. There is real concern here about how little we know of this country that now looms so large in the post-Iraq world.
So far, I have more questions than answers as to how I will be living for the next five weeks. The security situation plus the cultural prohibitions will mean wearing the abaya – a black, tent-like outfit. Unclear whether I will have to cover my head. Unclear if, in this garb, I can walk around at all. We will be in SA for most of Ramadan and the ‘religious police’ – the Mutaween – are particularly active during the holy month. We have heard they even patrol the hotels with their switches looking for women not dressed to their standards. (Apparently that goes as far as a ban on open toed, open backed or cut-out shoes.) Unclear if I, as a female, must eat my meals without the other members of our team in the ‘family’ dining room of the hotels we will stay in. (We will have to move every week or so for security reasons.) Trying to prepare for the worst, I am bringing lots of books, three knitting projects, needlepoint and a portable CD player.
Let the adventure begin!
Wanderlust and Me
Eight years in a one room schoolhouse in rural Wisconsin, most of them with no indoor plumbing, running water or central heat. Ditto the farm house that was home on our return from Seattle. Digging out the front door through six foot snow drifts in temperatures of minus 30F. Looking down from our hill over Lake Koshkonong. Skating parties in the winter, summer swimming in its murky water. A woods so full of black raspberries that aunts and cousins came with buckets and tubs to carry them away. Five pound tomatoes and fifty pound watermelons. A scary basement full of spiders and hundreds of quarts of vegetables and fruits – pickled, canned, jammed, jellied and juiced. The siren smells of baking rye bread and frying doughnuts. The never ending demands of tobacco, dairy cows, runaway pigs. Harvest of hay, oats and corn. 4-H square dances and blue ribbon calves at county fair. Multitudes of cousins celebrating every birthday and holiday. An untrained mare to give me freedom and armfuls of books from Saturday’s trip to the library to give me dreams – dreams of faraway places.
The folly of a year at the University of Grenoble for one who arrives speaking so little French. A glorious year of discovery – of another culture, of myself. Hitchhiking to Nice for Mardi Gras, driving a motor scooter to Barcelona at Easter. Hitchhiking Italy that summer on $1.50 a day – meeting my first husband at the Pisa youth hostel. Dreams of faraway places properly stoked.
Marriage to a newly minted Foreign Service Officer. Sailing to Naples – morning sickness on board. Birth of first daughter at the NATO hospital, corpsmen for nurses. Transfer to Cairo. Pregnant again. Birth of my son at the mission hospital in Tanta, Egypt (no functioning incubators in Cairo). Assignment to Barranquilla, Columbia, pregnant again. Anesthetic this time. Bliss. Three continents. Three babies. Three years.
Kampala Uganda, just in time for Idi Amin’s arrival on the scene. Sheltering Ugandan friends in fear for their lives. Faraway places are definitely not boring.
I BECOME A DIPLOMAT!
17,000 take the Foreign Service Exam – 2,000 pass. The fat envelope arrives. I MADE IT!!! The next hurdle is the oral exam, winnowing down 2,000 to 400. Once in front of the examiners, somehow I relax – and PASS!!!!! A great boss in D.C. who pushes me to overcome my timidity. Assignment to Stockholm after 4 months of all-day language training. Living in an historic farmhouse – Kotlagord – on a spring fed lake. Cross country skiing from our doorstep on lighted trails after work. Magic.
And so it goes, in more faraway places – London, Addis Ababa, Milan, and finally Oslo as Deputy Ambassador – amazing experiences in every one. Dreams fulfilled and then some.
More adventures follow in retirement as I join inspection teams spending weeks at our embassies in Moldova, Bulgaria, Romania and Saudi Arabia.
And what now? WRITING, two horses, dressage competition, keeping up with the garden I couldn’t keep myself from planting, enjoying our Scandinavian farm house, cooking flavors from around the world, lucky to be part
of the amazing cultural life of Port Townsend, a Victorian Seaport on Washington’s stunning Olympic Peninsula.
As to the writing part – my goal is to provoke wanderlust in today’s young readers, to give them the gift I was given – the yearning that propelled me from a one room school house to a career in the U.S. Diplomatic Service.
If you are reading this, you are also a lover of faraway places. I hope you’ll enjoy the adventures that follow! First stop: The Kingdom – Saudi Arabia.
