A dose of winter sunshine is good
for the soul, although I have to admit Saudi Arabia wouldn’t have been my first
choice for a holiday. 300 km north of
Jeddah, the town of Yanbu sits on the Red
Sea, and is temporary home to a vast number of western oil and construction
workers, including my other half.
The abaya had been purchased; the
teenager’s ready meals placed in the fridge, and her instructions
for the week pinned to the door (NO PARTYING was top of the list). After
a three month wait for a visa, I was finally off on a trip to the Middle East.
It would have been nice to have sprinkled this post with exotic holiday snaps but alas, photography is not
encouraged in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and within minutes of leaving the
airport, I could see why. Quite frankly the place was a mess. If this was my
kingdom, I certainly wouldn’t want anyone hanging around taking pictures of it.
I had been warned. Yes, he
assured me, I would see camels, but I would also see lots of litter – the plastic
bag is commonly known as the Saudi desert flower, I would seen the abandoned
wrecks of car crashes on the road side, and empty buildings left to crumble
into ruin and decay. The standard of driving, he told me, was worse than LA.
No! How could it be?!!
Well it was. Two armed Check Point
Charlies and three hours later, I was relieved to see the desert skyline
becoming dominated by a succession of oils refineries, chemical plants and
power stations. We had reached my holiday destination – the industrial oasis of
Yanbu.
A massive modern construction programme
has resulted in an influx of foreign workers into Saudi. Fortunately for me, I
would be accommodated in a secure, luxurious western style compound. If my husband was one
of the many Indian, Pakistani or Filipino workers, he’d have been confined to
barracks, with his passport confiscated and a trip home planned once every two
years.
Another Check Point Charlie and
we faced the 10 ft high perimeter concrete wall topped with barbed wire. Sliding
gates drew back to reveal a holiday style
village; attractive villa’s and apartments set around courtyards with pools, amongst
neatly tendered gardens bursting with exotic bougainvillea and tidy lawns of well
watered green grass.
Wow, I thought, slipping out of my
abaya and into my bikini, this isn’t so bad. I took a welcome dip in the pool and
reclined on a sunlounger whilst my poor hubby hurried off back to work. I flicked through a couple of pages of a
magazine. If I ignored the barbed wire, and the fact that I couldn’t leave the
compound under my own steam or without being garbed from head to foot in black,
perhaps I could get used to this.
A friend from California arrived
to take me on a quick tour. Ten minutes later I had seen the gym, the library,
the shop, the restaurant. I passed the nursery, the play areas, the football
pitch and tennis court. What next? We
called on another friend for a cup of tea.
Tomorrow, they promised, we could book a driver and go on a trip. Perhaps,
I hoped, I would get to see some of the real Saudi, those colourful market
places and exotic souks. Welcome to
ex-pat life, Yanbu style. 'We'll do the Mall and the supermarket,' they told me. Even that, I assured them gratefully, would be a treat.
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