More Leering and the Curse of the Angry Ninja

Over the weekend I went to a supermarket late one night to do some shopping.

As I walked down one aisle I passed what I assume was a mother and daughter out together. The mother was in full ninja attire whilst the daughter was more “Lawrence of Arabia” as she’d covered her hair and pulled a scarf about her lower face.

As I passed them the daughter stared at me. Wondering if she’d look away, I stared back. She didn’t and because her face was covered I have no idea what her expression was and what the stare was meant to indicate. It could have been flirtatious, it could have been disgust. I don’t know.

Later I was deciding what to get from the deli counter when a movement caught my eye and I looked over to find the same girl re-covering her face after trying some food. She immediately nudged her mother and said something whilst pointing at me.

Her mum fixed me with some sort of ninja death stare. I was transfixed. I felt like I was an innocent man being accused of something terrible (leering, I assume?!)

I felt like staring back at her would prove me a leering scoundrel, whilst looking away would prove I had a guilty conscience.

In retrospect winking at her was probably not the most sensible reaction. To be fair I was at a total loss about what to do. I knew she couldn’t talk to me, hence her reliance on the death stare. I didn’t feel like I could talk to her either. So a stupid misunderstanding became this surreal silent staring contest that no one could win.

I don’t know why the girl insisted on creating the situation but it upset me because I was obviously being accused of some cardinal sin and I had no way to resolve it.

Had we been in a Saudi Mall, I’m sure the mother would have involved the Muttawa and asked them to beat me up a bit with their sticks.

Perhaps the lesson to learn is not to stare in case people think you are leering, but staring and leering seem to be the national pastime and don’t think its just restricted to the men.

I am not a handsome man. Ladies do not stop me in the street to comment on how I “look like Brad Pitt, only cuter.” But the women here leer at me. I am not joking, I’ve seen them, staring out from behind their veils.

Last week at the cinema a girl who had not covered her face gave me such a “come hither” look I was completely taken aback. She was probably only 14 or 15 years old.

I am not saying that the women here are promiscuous. I wouldn’t know either way, but I seriously seriously doubt it. But perhaps all this covering up makes them suffer in exactly the same way as the men.

The men here are the champions of leering. Who can blame them? They have so few outlets.

I went to a garden centre with my secretary this week to buy some plants for the office. My secretary wore her abaya as usual, but she didn’t wear long pants. I caught two men leering at her ankles. Her ankles!

Not being able to casually glance at the opposite sex makes you behave in the oddest ways.

Riyadh's Best Named Drink?

Before I left Riyadh in July, one of my fellow compound inmates took me to a great Indian restaurant called Bliss House.

The food was fantastic and cheap, about SR 20 each (that’s less than £3).

I was however somewhat surprised to find that they served a drink called a Hitler!

Amazed to find a restaurant that thought calling a drink after a 1940's dictator was a winning sales tactic, I enquired further with the waiter. Did the drink come with a little swastika flag? was a fake mustache attached to the glass? Why call it a Hitler?

The waiter was at a loss to explain the drinks unusual name, indeed I dont think he knew who Hitler was.

It turned out the drink was just a combination of fruit juices and coconut milk and was served in a massive glass. Being Saudi Arabia, it was of course not served with any alcohol content.

I was informed by my collegue that the drink was originally concocted by a westerner who found that it went very well when mixed with home made Sidiqui spirit. He went onto explain that the restaurant had obtained some notoriety with westerners who would often try and smuggle in some illegal sidiqui into the resteraunt to mix with their Hitler!

I guess the risk of being caught with alcohol by the police and thrown into jail for 3 months gave a sense of exitement to this otherwise ordinary culinary expidition.

Aparently alerted by drunken patrons leaving the restaurant, the Saudi Police have raided the building several times, but had never found any booze.

I couldn't handle a large one, so I ordered myself a "Little Hitler".

Only in the Middle East!!

As this photo demonstrates, unfortuanatly some extremists in the Middle East are still big fans of Mr " One Testicle!!"

Saudi Arabia’s Most Aptly Named Clothes Shop

My memories of shopping at malls in the UK are of gangs of surly teenagers, packed shops and poor service. It might not be fair but that’s how I remember it.

I love the malls here in Saudi Arabia. As a man they actually make shopping almost bearable. They’re always clean, they’re rarely busy, I’ve never seen any surly teenagers and generally the service is pretty good.

It can also be a slightly surreal experience for a foreigner. One of the first things I saw was a ninja (a lady in a full abaya with either her face totally covered or just a slit to see out of) buying make up at Debenhams. Obviously she couldn’t try it on and the (male) staff could not see her skin tone to help her pick the right colours. It just struck me as odd. Because their eyes are often the only thing you see, women here wear a lot of eye make up. I wonder if they also do up the rest of their faces when they go out shopping.

You see a lot of ladies here carrying Louis Vuitton hand bags. I always thought a large part of the appeal was that people can see you carrying something considered expensive and desirable. But if no one knows who you are or can see your face it suddenly doesn't seem to make as much sense.

Barring a few exceptions (e.g. nurses, ladies' toilet cleaners, shop assistants in ladies' malls) women are not allowed to work, so you see guys doing things here that they would not be seen dead doing anywhere else in the world. Dressing mannequins in clothes shops (and boy can you tell!), selling make up and perfume and (most bizarre of all) selling ladies lingerie.

In a country as conservative as this, it seems odd to me that ladies buy their lingerie from men. I wonder how many people apply for the job when they have a vacancy.

Women are not allowed to try their clothes on and there are no female changing rooms. Refuse any offer to use the store room to try clothes on. A western woman accepted such an offer at Granada mall and was attacked by one of the staff. Fortunately she was unharmed.

This means that when a woman sees an item of clothing she likes, she has to hope it will suit her, estimate the correct size, buy the clothes, take them home and try them there. Then return the ones that do not fit.

Saudi’s most aptly named clothes shop?.........

.....Guess.

Creepy Crawlies

When I received the Saudi job offer I stayed open minded and did my research. I bought the Lonely Planet (did the authors ever live here, I wonder?), I went to all the Web sites and bulletin boards and I spoke to people that were either former or current residents of the Kingdom.

Whilst I was mulling over the comparatively minor issues of giving up alcohol, pork and my illusions of safety, I was also having to contemplate how the move would affect my relationships with all my family and friends back in the UK.

In truth my desire to see the country and the region made the decision easier than many would expect. That is, until I saw pictures and videos of the camel spider!

Religious persecution and unbearable temperatures are one thing, but I'll be damned if I'm living with these monsters! That's it! The move's off!

When I read that "camel spiders prefer the shade" I had images of me standing under the sun in 48C heat because I didn't dare share the shade with an army of angry camel spiders.

I read a story by an American in Riyadh that used to see them regularly in airplane hangers and he described them as the most aggressive creatures he'd ever seen.

I also read that as the Camel Spider charges it's hapless human victim, that it emits a screaching noice known as the Camel Spider Scream! I am reliably informed by ex-pats in Saudi who have had the dubious pleasure of seeing a Camel Spider, that when they attack there is a lot of screaming....but this is usually attributed to the human frantically running away, rather than the spider.

As I have yet to see one in 6 months I've calmed down and I no longer jump every time I hear a rustle in the bushes or see a shape in the shadows.

I now see similarities between Saudis and the camel spider. No, really! They're shy, elusive desert dwellers. They both prefer the shade and only come out at night.

I'm happy to add that unlike the spiders, most Saudi's I’ve met aren't aggressive. So far I haven't been bitten once…

Missed Universe

Well done Miss Turkey for winning Miss Universe. I missed the show, but I'm sure your suggestion to bring about world peace was a sound one.

I wish that just once a contestant would answer the token question with honesty:

Interviewer: If you're crowned Miss Universe, how will you forward the cause for women worldwide during your tenure?

Contestant: Do I look like Hillary Clinton? I didn't just strut around in a bikini to forward the cause for women worldwide. I did it to make lots of money and become very famous. Why don't you forward the cause for men worldwide by talking to my face instead of to my cleavage?

It's natural for men to cast admiring glances at women, I know this and am big enough to admit that, on occasion, I also partake in this male pastime.

Over here in Saudi Arabia however, the sport is practiced on an entirely different level. I catch Saudi men leering unsubtley at western women in the malls all the time.

In Saudi, in spite of all attempts to subvert it, human nature is still human nature and Saudi (and expat) men are still men. But because there are so few outlets, there seem to be fewer admiring glances and many more leers.

Recently I was at Debenhams when I observed a man opposite me go through a typical leering manoeuvre. As the lady walked towards him he stared at her head, and then let his glance travel down her body with a pause to ogle idly at her chest. As she walked past his leer followed her, with his ogle this time being slightly lower down.

Like all leers this was rude, but it was amusing because the lady was completely covered from head to toe by her abaya. In this country the men must have fantastic imaginations!

In Saudi we don't have Miss Universe, but we do have Miss Automobile. Last week I went to the car souk in Al Khobar. When I arrived I noticed an unusually large number of Saudi guys all standing by the road waving frantically. I wondered why all these men were trying to hail taxis. Had prayer time just ended? Had there been an accident? I slowed down.

The men started to swarm towards my car shaking their fists at me! What the hell?! Have I stumbled accidentally into the annual meeting of the Osama Bin Laden Appreciation Society? Lock the doors! Get the hell out of here!

As I sped around the corner it became apparent that the men weren't angry honkey haters, they just wanted to buy my car.

This is a part of town where men drive their cars up and down in the hopes that someone will buy it. All men are welcome to come and watch the show. You can glance at the ones you can afford and you can leer at the ones out of your reach.

No angry husband will hit you for leering at the cars. Just don't restrict your inspection to its cleavage........

....... and don't expect it to have a plan for ending world poverty!

Brown underwear Day # 2

Regular readers of this Blog will no doubt recall my encounter with armed customs officers not long after I arrived in the Magic Kingdom.

Last month I had another bad day in the line of duty and although things turned out alright, I wasn’t so sure of that at the time.

The eventful day began with me flying to a remote city called Al Jouf in the North of Saudi Arabia, near to the Iraq border. Before I flew I had been warned that this region was particularly anti-American and had a reputation of being the home to many Al Qaeda training camps and hardliners. As you can imagine therefore, I was really looking forward going there.

I arranged for the company I was meeting to send a driver to pick me up from the airport. I even let my beard grow for a week before I flew especially as I had been told by many Arabs that with a tan and sporting a beard, I looked like I was a Jordanian Arab! This, I hoped, would prevent any potential kidnappers or “white boy haters” from noticing me.

Problems started with the flights. The only available flight from Riyadh to Al Jouf departed at 6am. Even worse, the only available flight back left Al Jouf at 11pm. So I was prepared for a long long day.



Al Jouf has a small airport located in the middle of the desert approximately 20 miles from Al Jouf city. When I arrived, I was glad to see the driver waiting for me (he was holding a placard saying Mr Austin Steward Boy– MYI !!!!!) and we made the drive into Al Jouf where I met with a very pleasant Saudi regarding a defective American car which had crashed, killing the driver.

By 11am we had concluded our business, but the Saudi was generous to let me stay in the office until it closed at 5pm. He actually took me out for a great lunch at a fabulous traditional Arab restaurant (sitting on floor eating with our hands….).

When the office closed at 5pm, the Saudi offered to drive me to a local hotel so that I could relax before getting a taxi to the airport. Foolishly, I decided against this. I requested that he drive me to the airport where I would just sit and wait until my flight at 11pm. I explained that I had a good book to read and would at least be able to get something to eat and drink at the airport.

At 5.30pm we arrived at the front of the airport building and said our goodbyes in the car. As the very pleasant Saudi gentleman drove away, I waved goodbye and reflected that my day in Al Jouf had been very pleasant and without incident…….little did I know!

I walked to the front entrance of the airport….and it was locked shut! I peered inside, not a soul was to be seen. The lights were on but definitely no-one was at home!

Oh shit! I thought. Peering into the departure lounge I could see the departure/arrivals board. Only 2 planes were scheduled to depart or arrive all day…and they were both my flights!!!

It slowly dawned on me…… this was a small airfield in the middle of the dessert with only 2 planes arriving or departing a day. Therefore, everyone buggered off home between the flights and the airport was closed.

So, I surmised, my situation was thus:

1) I am in the middle of the dessert out side a closed airport which probably wont open for another 4 ½ hrs!

2) Its 50 degrees celsius and the sun won’t set for another hour and a half when the temperature will maybe drop to 40 degrees!!

3) I’m wearing a suit and have no food or water!!!

4) I’m in the middle of a region known for Al Qaeda camps. No one is about and I could be abducted/shot/beaten up (take your choice) and no one would be any the wise!!!!

5) My mobile phone did not have a signal, so I couldn’t call my Saudi friend or even a taxi to take me back to a hotel!!!!!

6) Oh shit, bollocks, arseholes!!!!!!!

Hmm… I thought, trying to subdue the rising panic, perhaps today is going to go tits up after all!

Realising there was nothing I could do, I removed my jacket and tie and sat on the pavement keeping in as much shade as possible. I took out my book (an Arthur C Clarke novel) and began to read, already sweating profusely.

…..And there I stayed for the next 3 hours. Christ it was hot! Christ I needed some water!...... but the book was good.

At 8.30pm there were at last some developments. A military police vehicle drove past, but didn’t stop. 10 minutes later it drove past again without stopping. 10 minutes later in cam back once again and decided to stop.

Two Saudi Royal Air force Security officer got out of the car and approached me. I stood up and began to walk over to them. Worryingly, I noticed both were carrying AK47 assault rifle. One of the soldiers shouted at me in Arabic..

Oh bollocks…its Jubail customs all over again.

I tried to explain using a mixture of hand signals and gestures that I was waiting for a flight at 11pm, but the airport was closed. The soldiers seemed very cross, but eventually one of them seemed to realise I was waiting for a flight. The soldiers talked to each other for a minute, went back to their car and drove off!! I was so surprised I forgot to ask if they had any water I could drink.

I sat back down and got back to my book.

Ten minutes later and the soldiers were back. In broken English one said “ Go, go. You no allowed here!!” I got the gist and again tried to explain I had no where to go. They then shouted something in Arabic again, but I couldn’t understand. I apologised for being so stupid.

One of the soldiers made a call on his phone and after a few minutes handed the phone to me. “Speak. Captain!”

I took the phone… “Hello??” I ventured.

I was answered by a Saudi who spoke perfect English. He explained he was the soldiers Captain in the Saudi Royal Air force. I explained my situation and he was very understanding. He was delighted when he realised I was from England as he had learned to fly at RAF Cranwell. I explained that my father had been in the RAF and had also trained at RAF Cranwell. This delighted him even more and we ended up having a good chinwag. Eventually he explained that the Saudi Royal Air force were responsible for patrolling the airport.

He said it was very dangerous for me to be waiting in the open. He also explained that the airport would not open until 10pm (another hour). I advised that I would just wait outside as I had nowhere else to go. He wasn’t happy and said he would see what he could do. And I passed the phone back to the soldiers who got back in their car and rove off again.

I sat back down. Oh well only another hour to go I thought. Back to the book.

5 minutes later, the soldiers were back with an annoyed looking airport employee. He opened the entrance door to the airport and let me into the air conditioned paradise that was the departure lounge…Bliss. Grumpily, he explained that the Air Force Captain had insisted that he open up the entire airport an hour early to let me in. He even gave me 2 bottles of water to quench my thirst.

I thanked him and the 2 soldiers profusely and sat down to wait another 2 hours for my flight.

Sadly things didn’t end happily as the flight was delayed by an hour and the pilot did his best to try and crash the plane when landing at Riyadh. I eventually crawled into bed at 3am knowing I had to get up at 6am to go back to work.

NAS air - Don't fly with these cowboys!!

At least, I reflected the next day, I hadn’t died of dehydration, been abducted, killed or arrested by the police…close call though!