The Hunt For Vege Seeds in Riyadh

While wandering the street during salah one day a year or two after my arrival in Riyadh, I came across a Sultan Gardens store on Takhasussi St and decided to hang about till it re-opened.  Not because I wanted gardening supplies.  Because I was missing a garden.  A vegetable garden, that is.

Riyadh is the only place we have lived where we have not, almost immediately, put in a vege patch.  Perhaps it's because we were new to apartment living, or perhaps it is because we were living in the Saudi Arabia, renowned for its quirky rules, but I remember looking at all the other apartments in our block the day I arrived and registering the complete lack of anything green or plant like in their windows or on their doorsteps.  Maybe, I recall thinking to myself, other than the beautifully landscaped patches of common grounds with their arty seating and rocky rook waterfalls, gardening isn't allowed here.

It was a fleeting thought, chased away with a shrug of the shoulders as my mind set itself to other things about this new life that needed attention.  Eventually though, this green grass, country girl, while sitting on her front stairs, started wondering what that common ground would look like planted out in spuds with a bean runner at one end.

The Husband and I hail from rural NZ.  We're used to space - the quarter acre section with someones paddock over the back fence.  And within that space has always been a vege patch.  My father dug up a garden whenever the whanau moved homes.  And with nine mouths to feed, Hubsters father found a large garden made economic sense too.  I guess vege gardening is in our genes hence the reason we like them, much more so than the flower gardens that beautify our compound.

Our compound is lovely, it really is, and I often tell people we reside in a pretty compound.  But that's just it.  It's pretty.  And someone else maintains it.  Gardeners turn up regularly to cut grass, trim trees, fix the watering system, tend to the flower beds, weed, take out plants and put in plants. Granted they've planted a couple of herb bushes about the place, specifically Thyme (aka Zataar) which, along with mint, seems to be a Saudi herb staple, and it all works to make the compound pleasant to look at.  But I doubt that taking a spade to our landscaped compound lawn to stick in some rows of silver beet would have been appreciated by fellow tenants or the manager.

One day I noticed tomato plants coming up in the beautifully maintained flower beds and thought 'Wow, tomatoes. Awesome'.  A few weeks went by and the spindly plants had started bending toward the ground due to lack of supports and tiny yellow flowers could be seen, 'Cool', I thought, 'tomatoes soon'.  Shortly after, the garden maintenance crew turned up and ripped out the young tomato plants. and replaced them with pansies (or something similarly flowery).  This vege patch kinda girl spent the day feeling somewhat deflated.

Though I think the pansies (or whatever flower it is that is flowering in our compound right now, because flowered plants are simply not my forfeit), look lovely, having someone else stick them in the ground, then remove them as per the management gardening plan doesn't really soothe the soul like do it yourself vegetable gardening.

It was time, I decided, to start growing vegetables.

Potted veges at our front door, because we don't have a back door, (our compound was built at a time when OSH was a money making twinkle in somebody's eye), I told the Hubster my plan.  He reminded me that the lack of shade at our doorstep at heat battered times of the day (which in summer is pretty much all day), would only result in shriveled plants and be akin to plant abuse!  No matter.  I was on a mission.

Two places were touted as the 'Go To' for gardening supplies in Riyadh as I headed off in search of vegetable seeds to soothe my gardening soul - Sultan Gardens or one of the roadside nurseries that seem to be placed at random spots along the main roads.

Sultan Gardens has lovely garden decor for landscaping purposes - rustic iron seats, huge fountains suitable for family palaces, ceramic pots of all sizes, artistic stone ornaments and, of course, the outdoor flowers and shrubbery to go in them.  But no vege seedlings.

The nurseries had bags of soil, loads of potted trees and flowers, but no veges.  Why, I asked Mr Noor, are there no vegetable seeds in the gardening shops?  We concluded that the home vege patch isn't really a Saudi urban thing.

Chats with Saudi's friends when describing my mission at that time backed up that assumption.  Patches of dirt for vege gardens isn't really factored into the typical modern Saudi urban home design.  That isn't to say they don't eat veges.  They do.  But the growing of vegetables is somebody else's concern or takes place out of the city on the farm.  One Saudi friend noted, with a hint of sarcasm, that if the modern Saudi home design did include a garden it is highly likely the maid or driver would be put in charge of its care!  Okey dokey, I'll wait a year or two while considering how to put that into print - and there it is...

Suggestions that we move to a farm out of town a little, or simply lease a patch of ground someplace  nearby so I can get my vege gardening fix fell then, and fall still, on deaf Hubster ears.  (After much meditation it has dawned on me I am probably grasping at rather large straws with those ideas).

Another option for my vege patch fix was making regular visits to an organic garden owned by a local Prince who, I understand, is an excellent chef that I mentioned in my previous post  Organic Garden in Wadi Hanifah.  Any excess from his garden is sold to expats.  Having never had to travel huge distances to my vege patch before, stubborn, pouty old me didn't want to have to start that kind of nonsense back then.   I have since figured out that living in Saudi requires adjusting your mind set to doing things differently, if you want to do anything at all.

As you can imagine, the day I found packets of vegetable seeds in Lulu's I was totally stoked and bought more than a few. So, though it has taken a while, over the Saudi winter I have a range of vegetable plants at our front door - tomatoes, capsicum, and lettuce with mustard and radish - and I love them.  My eyes search out the green and growing plants each time I return home and evenings are spent sitting on the stairs beside the pots thinking how lucky I am to have them.  Just looking at them brings me peace.

During the summer months, Hubster is right.  The summer sun glares relentlessly at our front door and, because we tend to leave the country for a week or three heading for cooler climates at that time of year, the plants don't stand a chance of surviving.  I have considered asking security to take up watering duties but, as they already look after Cat on our jaunts away, I don't think it fair to impose any more on their time.  So as the weather warms up, any remaining plants are turned into the soil until August when I can start my vege pot patch all over again.


Summer is drawing to a close now and I am eyeing my empty pots and planning another trip to Lulu's for seeds and the local roadside stalls for bags of soil and, wait for it....vege seedlings.  The roadside nurseries have got themselves up with the play and it is possible to find little pottles of tomatoe seedlings and one or two other vegetables.  I might pop into Sultan Gardens as well, just because.  Hubster has decided that perhaps my mission needs help, so he has managed to find a couple of guttering channels (a bit of a chore in a place that doesn't tack them on to building rooves because it rains so rarely) to put together a hydroponic system at our front door to complement the pot collection.  I knew he wouldn't stay out of the vege garden for too long.

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

The New Improved Princess Souq

The Princess Souq has been moved and with its relocation has come a major upgrade.  Gone are the low ceiling and piece meal materials of wood, plastic corrugated roofing, canvas throw overs and rotting carpet that used to hold the old, dark, dank and dirty princess souq together.  The new location of princess souq, part of what is officially called the New ibn Qasim Market, is held up with high metal frames covered with large white sunshades and underfoot is a lovely patio type tiled floor.  We thought the move might hike the prices, but no, you can still buy garish gowns for next to nothing at the Princess Souq.

The other thing that seems to have been cleaned up at the new location is the D&D's (aka Dirty and Disgusting men).  You can read all about them in my previous Princess Souq post.  We spent a hassle free morning at the souq when I went with a couple of friends.  That isn't to say there aren't still men, but they seem reasonably sane and relatively capable of normal interaction with women.  And they were happy to go on my little Weehee (was meant to be woohoo, but really, it didn't come out that way) video.



The clothes are still hung in racks packed closely together so you feel like you're moving through an ocean channel of frills, tulle, silk and satin.  And that old second hand smell can still be caught when you are deep into the rows of hangers, reminding you that your purchase will likely need a good wash or dry clean when you get it home.  And when you pull a gown off the rack to assess it more closely, chances are high that baubles, ruffles and and diamantes will be present in excess.

The ladies found themselves a few goodies.  I just took photos.  Some gowns actually look quite reasonable in an overstated way and for less than 40 Riyals you could find yourself a gown or two.

Mrs B happy browsing.

It can be a fun rushing over to assess the costume discovered with calls of 'Come and look at this' and 'OMG - this can't be for real' to 'Wow, what a bargain.'  Some women head down to the souq on a very regular basis.  I am not one of them.  Hailing from the shorts or jeans with t-shirt brigade I don't have a lot of call for gowns so will go on the odd occasion if I'm feeling particularly bored, want to buy some princess dresses for the granddaughters or there is a nice lunch somewhere afterwards.

The new princess souq is south of the south western ring road.  One lady, in giving instructions, said it was just down the road from the old souq.  It's actually down the road, under the bridge, Turn left then, with the concrete works on the horizon, turn right and then.....oh never mind, here's a map.  Google co-ordinates are 24.568012, 46.745333.

Location of the New Princess Souq, Riyadh



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Computer Souq Full of Gaming

Visiting the computer souq on Olaya in Riyadh is almost becoming a normal experience for me these days.  Almost.  Except for the staring.  The other day after dropping off my computer for a spot of repairs I decided to hang around and see what else there was to see.  Most noticeable was the increase in the number of gaming shops since my last visit.

I admit to knowing absolutely nothing about gaming.  I hail from an era that was just coming out of Pin Ball machines and heading into Pac Man and, quite frankly, my skill level at both was fairly dismal, so I never really kept up with the development of video game entertainment.  My children, the poor souls, had to make do with visiting their friends and waiting for a turn on their Atari machine because we decided playing team sport was a better way for our kids to spend their time and our money.  Given that their friends were better at the Atari games because, let's face it, they got more game time in, my kids often had a long wait for the console.  The day my son stopped begging to go up the road to play on his mates Atari made me feel like I'd helped him dodge a child development bullet.   My view of gaming didn't change much over the years as the graphics improved and the popular games just seemed to get more violent.   Watching my nieces and nephews attempting to blow things up with heavy artillery in futuristic battles just isn't my thing.  Candy Crush, however, is.  (Yes it's sad I know but remember, I'm old).

While wandering in and out of little shops at the Riyadh computer souq somewhat astounded at the number of luminous green and black boxes dedicated to gaming in all of them, I came across Ashraf who was more than happy to talk to this gaming clueless expat about the equipment being sold in his shop. And apparently they sell a lot.  Here's a video wrap up on what I learned about gaming components.  (As you can see Ashraf was not shy of the camera).

Although there is a technician on site to put components together as required, Ashraf says quite a few Saudi's like to build their own gaming computer systems.  That surprised me because, lets be honest, I still think most Saudi's prefer to pay someone else to do everything for them.  Perhaps where gamers are concerned I'm going to have to shake that idea.

Given there are few other avenues for recreation in this country it's no surprise that Saudi's have taken to computer games en masse.  Apparently gaming in this country is a huge revenue earner for game developers because so many Saudi's not only play but are prepared to pay to progress to upper levels (why doesn't that surprise me!)

It occurred to me after waving goodbye to Ashraf, that I forgot to ask  how many females head through his shop door who like to put together their own gaming consoles.  It is no secret that gaming is popular among Saudi females given there is bugger all else for women to do here.  In fact, so many Saudi girls are now into video games that, a couple of years back, a motivated young lady ran a female only gaming conference.   I got a a bit excited to hear that 3000 or so women went to a gaming conference that was not only for players but also budding gaming developers.  Here's an interview from the event in 2013.

After watching this interview I headed to Google to find out what else gaming women in Saudi were up to.  It seems not much as there are only a couple of other mentions re: women and gaming out in cyberspace and both of them are articles about Saudi men developing games for the Saudi female psyche.  I find it quite bizarre that, with the extreme gender segregation in this society preventing the mixing of genders and discouraging the exchanging of ideas between both groups, Saudi men presume to know the Saudi female mind.  But then, Saudi men are brought up to think they know exactly what Saudi women need, and are entitled to dictate as much, so I guess the idea of them presuming to know what games their women ought to be playing isn't so weird after all.

First up was this interview: 'As Saudi Arabia's Love Of Online Gaming Grows, Developers Bloom' which is about a group of guys developing 'strong female characters' in Arab based, Saudi relevant games. I love how it says

"We wanted to present a non-stereotypical lead female character [who is] smart, intellectual and plays an active role in the game."

Perhaps this quote was the result of a terrible edit.  These guys can't really be saying that the typical Saudi woman is not smart, intellectual and does not play an active role in Saudi society?  I'm guessing they actually meant its ridiculous how Saudi girls just aren't allowed to do things over here like treasure hunt, drive, bike ride, participate in physical sport or contribute to matters considered too important for women to worry their pretty feminine selves about.  (The game they are talking about in the interview, by the way, has a recently released new version called Unearthed: Trail of Ibn Battuta - Episode 1 - Gold Edition in case you want to go check it out).

What I wanted to know after reading that interview was whether or not any Saudi women join these group developer sessions above Chuck E Cheese.   If a few, (or even one), Saudi women were involved in the development of this game it would have been nice for them to rate mention.  On the other hand women helping men in gaming development above Chuck E Cheese would likely be akin to women walking on the wild side in Saudi and the Joy Stealers would probably decide they have something to say about it!

At the end of the interview the Saudi government gets a mention for supporting a female gaming developer in creating a driving game, of all things.  Is this really a precursor to women driving in Saudi? (Personally, I would have thought allowing husbands, fathers and older brothers to provide driving lessons for their female relatives a more relevant forerunner to women driving.  But wait, no, a few have tried that and gotten into grief though I do query why in my post Arrested For Driving.. ).  Perhaps my pessimism is running rampant as I write this, but it occurred to me that with a government endorsed driving game available for the girls to play, it's far too easy for the blokes in charge to say, 'You ladies don't need to really drive - just play the game of driving'.  (Perhaps they'll throw in a toy steering wheel while they're at it!)


The second article  found making waves in cyber space re: gaming and Saudi femmes is about a Saudi prince whose company is creating an upcoming game called Saudi Girls Revolution.  An interesting name don't you think?  More interesting is what the game is about:

"In this post-apocalyptic future, women are placed in concentration camps with conservative men ruling the land and controlling resources," he said. "It is the story of the girls breaking out and liberating the Arab empire by replacing its leaders."

It should be noted that Mr Prince's company is based outside of Saudi and his games are mobile based specifically so they can't be shut down by the conservative half of Saudi hierarchy who, I'm quite certain, wouldn't be greeting the name of this game or its summary with open arms and a welcoming smile.





Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Optical Adventure in Riyadh

Reading Run Fat Bitch Runby Ruth Field

It had become glaringly apparent a few years back that my eyesight was not quite as good as it used to be.  The  first indication that I may require optical accessories was when I kept getting headaches while at work some years ago. The idea of having to wear glasses horrified me, largely because for a gal who usually has 20/20 vision, glasses means only one thing - I'm getting old?  So I quit that job and all was good till I eventually got another role that required me to look at computer screens a lot.  Of course the headaches came back.  This time, however, I kidded myself that the wearing of glasses while looking at computer screens was not an age related thing - it was a technology issue.

"I can honestly say I love getting older. Then again, I never put my glasses on before looking in the mirror." 

Cherie Lunghi  - Read more at Brainy Quote

Eventually I had to get glasses and they were a very funky, modern looking pair because I wasn't over the hill just yet.  Things ticked along quite well for quite some time till I misplaced my glasses somewhere and they decided to stay misplaced.  A new pair of spectacles was required.  So off I went to the nearest spec place in Riyadh.  One of those little shops along the road that I've always thought just ever so slightly questionable.  But it was close to home and Hubster was happy to walk up there with me (mostly, I discovered afterwards, because there was a shoe shop nearby that he likes).

The shop guy said, 'yes, I can test your eyes', and directed me to a back room with a rather antiquated looking piece of eye testing apparatus.  After the test he declares, 'There is nothing wrong with your eyesight'. 'Do you want to buy these very expensive sunglasses?'  Ummmmm.....no.

A few weeks later (because I am an avid supporter of procrastination) the taxi I was in screeched to a halt outside Eye World on Tahalia St.  It seemed a good idea to stop there given we were driving past.  Up the stairs I went into a shop floor loaded with the latest fashion, and somewhat expensive, eye wear frames.  However, Eye World isn't just about frames.  Oh no.  You can get eye corrective surgery on the floors above, so the gentleman who came to serve me said.  And you can get an eye test.

So in I went and met a man of Arab extraction with a bit of a mumble and a very heavy accent that required asking him to repeat himself for my comprehension.  He sat me down behind the very modern looking eye testing apparatus.  For those of you who've never had an eye test with the latest modern gadgets, this machine houses a number of lens of varying sizes, thicknesses and strengths and to find the one right for your eyes, they swap them around and ask for feedback on whether or not you can see the pretty picture at the end clearly, through one or both eyes.  Once behind the machine Mr Ophthalmologist said...

...I  don't know what he said. Between his mumble and heavy accent and my not being able to see his lips move because my eyes were staring through a very hazy lens that was in the machine, I couldn't understand him.  So I said, 'What did you say?'

And down dropped another lens.

He mumbled something else...
'No, no wait, I didn't hear you,  What did you say?'

And down dropped another lens.

I took my head out of the machine and said, "I don't know what you're saying?"  And two things were quite obvious in the glance that he returned to me - one, he was very focused on the job at hand and two, it was going to be one of those days.  Days when lots of communication in a cross cultural exchange is going to be lost in translation.  On those days I really need to learn to talk more slowly.

He simply said 'Go back '. (With a 'Why are you not focusing on the task at hand?' querying look on his face).

My jaw set and one of those sighs escaped my lips (you know, those 'Sure, fine, this is going to be one of those days' kind of sighs.)   I returned to the hazy lenses, this time determined not to respond till I was absolutely, fairly certain what he was saying.  It was a long slow process because it took a while to tune in my ears.
I had the beginnings of a headache by the end of it.
He seemed quite happy with the result.

Photo credit: Not my photo.

Once out of the chair Mr Ophthalmologist was walking away and talking.  I have no clue what he's saying because I've turned off my tuned in ear - my brain needed a rest.  He turns and hands me a packet.  A square, slimy, foil wrapped, squishy packet.  I look at it and wonder to myself, 'Why have you handed me a condom packet?'  Because seriously, the only small, square, foil wrapped, squishy packets I have ever seen like this in my life, are condoms.
I say, 'What the heck is this for?'
He says, 'Blah, blah...eyes...reading, blah...Put it in.
'Ummm....what?'

It turns out the squishy pack is a contact lens.
Really, it feels just like condoms.  (Me and scientists in Australia must be on the same wavelength because in 2014 Wollongong University got funding to make condoms out of contact lens material).

'Put it in', says Mr O.
'Ummm....how', I say.
'Just put it in your eye', he says.

Obviously Mr Opthomologist had not bothered to read the extensive paperwork I filled out before the eye test which at no point said, 'I wear contacts'.

I have no idea how to put a blessed contact in.
I look at the tiny thing on the end of my finger, I lean forward and look in the mirror at my eye and go....nope, can't do it.  He was a bit exasperated at my lack of contact wearing knowledge.  'I've never worn contacts before', I say looking at him innocently with raised, contact atop, finger.  Can you do it?'  In this land of Man Must Not Touch Woman, Mr Opthamologist had to go and get a nurse to put the contact in my eye.

The instant that thing hit my eyeball water started gushing down my cheeks and my eye went into spastic blinking.  Gush, gush, blink blink.

'Just wait, it will be ok', the nurse says.
'Really?'  Blink, blink, tears streaming.

Blink, spastic rapid blink.  Gushing tear drop waterfalls.
I can't flaming see and feel around for the tissues noted previously on the shelf.
Wipe the tears off my cheek but they won't stop coming out my eye.

I blinked and cried so much the contact moved and I could feel it dropped down off my eyeball.
'Take this thing out,' I say.  Of course, by this time the nurse had left he room.
'Just pinch it out', he says.
At this point I'm thinking less than complementary thoughts about Mr Opthomologist.  For goodness sake, if I don't know how to put this thing in, ya really think I know how to take it out!

I close my eye, holding the tissue on to it trying to ebb the teary flow, and look at him out of one eye like Stuart the Minion, which, though the grandchildren may think it hilarious, I'm fairly certain is not a flattering look for me...



'Where's the nurse', I say.
The nurse is busy and Mr Opthomologist still doesn't want to come near me.
So I have to wait, tissue in hand, eye closed and contact feeling like it's down around my cheekbones, till the nurse could come take the contact out.

Thank goodness for that.
Suffice to say, I will never be trying contacts again!  That doesn't mean contacts are bad.  I know a number of my friends and family swear by their contacts - reading contacts, one day contacts, colored contacts and so forth, but given my eyes water with the application of eyeliner or mascara on the extremely rare occasions I feel I ought to try self-beautification of that sort, it is no wonder that a full assault on my eye ball by a contact lens caused the reaction it did.

Once I'd managed to compose myself and collected the piece of paper regarding the results of my eye test, I was certain things would be plain sailing from here on.  I forgot though, I was living in Riyadh. All those tears for my new glasses was just the beginning of my "Get New Glasses" optical excitement as I traipsed Riyadh from EyeWorld, to Magrabi and other random places for specs so I could see.  But we'll leave the rest of the story for another day.




Ka Kite,
Kiwi

STC 2 Steps Back

So, the other day Madame Lily tells me she had to sit outside the main STC shop on the corner of Tahalia and King Fahad because she was refused entry. 'Really!  That's unusual', I thought.  I've always gone into STC (the smaller one down the road because it's closer to home) with or without the Hubster, sorted my phone issues and walked home again.

In fact, just before Ramadan we went into STC together to let them know we were going overseas and to please not cut the phone off when they see international call costs flooding our phone bill.  A few months previous to that I went in because the internet had stopped working on my phone and, after handing it to a pleasant, polite, young tech savvy Saudi bloke, walked out with cyber space on my iPhone working again.

Imagine my surprise when, last night, after enjoying a lovely meal at a top restaurant, Hubster, myself and a fellow, newly arrived, Kiwi wandered down to the nearest STC to get a SIM for his iPad, and, as I went to follow Hubster and company indoors, security waved at me in that way you wave at people when trying to catch their attention and said 'Madame, Madame, No'.

Pardon? I said as I wasn't expecting to engage with any male securtiy outside the STC door.
Man only, they said (There were two security and another older guy sitting at a nearby table).
What? I said, somewhat confused.
Man only, they repeated, supported now by the older guy. 
Really! I said, remembering my recent conversation with Madame Lily.  Since when?
No lady, they said with a tone that suggested they had no idea why either, they were just doing their job and waving me to get out of the doorway where I had been standing for the duration of our short exchange.
But I've always gone in here, I said

Two younger, fashionably attired blokes who may or may not have been Saudi, (my ability to differentiate between Arabs and their particular Middle Eastern origins is still terribly poor after all this time), sitting at another nearby table joined the conversation, in a good natured fashion.

This is Saudi, one of them said.  A dumb country with dumb rules, And they laughed.  There ensued a conversation in Arabic between all five blokes, presumably on the rules in Saudi Arabia and the new rules in STC.  While they were talking I considered my options:

1. Walk into STC and upset security's day;  
2. Stand around on the street like an idiot; or 
3. Take a seat at the nearby tables by the blokes as there was nowhere else to sit.

I chose Option Number 3.

So, can I sit here then? I asked the blokes.
Of course!, they said.  
Take a seat, they invited.
And the ridiculousness of the situation made me laugh.

The younger blokes cleared their rubbish from the table, pulled out a chair and stood up to move over to join security and the old bloke at their table.  (They may have invited me to sit outdoors, but local custom dictates they not sit with me - nearby, at the next table, is good enough).  We were just getting into a conversation on my nationality when Hubster came back out.  He hadn't realized I had been stopped at the door and wondered why I was still outside.  He was surprised when told the situation.

Seconds later our friend exited STC and joined us, somewhat baffled by yet another condition recently implemented by STC to help them cater to the huge anticipated iPhone 6 rush...

 ...They are only doing iPhone inquiries tonight, he said
What? we chimed together.
Yes, said the older guy still sitting in the chair near security who I now deduced was an STC employee on an extended coffee break, only iPhone 6 all this week.
All week? Hubster queried.
Yes, he said.
Shall we walk up to the big STC, then?
No, he said, it's the same there, too.

We left STC then and headed back to the car.
This, we told our friend, is typical of Saudi Arabia.  One day is one rule, the next day another.  It's what makes working with regulatory body's (or anybody for that matter) a nightmare for expats like Hubster who cannot get international companies to understand exactly what life is like here.  (He particularly gets annoyed at the Head Honchos in Dubai who blab on about Saudi being no different to anywhere else, but who rarely come here and, when they do, never stay overnight because 'OMG...it's so different!  I often get the impression that Head Honcho's are Dumb Asses!)

I couldn't help thinking that STC had let the new generation down by closing its retail spaces to women.   Noor tells me a new ladies branch of STC has opened, up the road and around the corner - much further for me to go now.  (I have to catch a taxi with an unrelated male to get there - so if the point was to stop women engaging with unrelated males of questionable origin STC, or whoever is pushing these new rules, has failed terribly - duh!)

Presumably the purpose of opening a women only STC space is to give local women jobs in telecommunication retail, though I can't be sure of that rational without delving into the discussion with someone in the know, and I don't know anyone in the know right now.  (Anyone in the know out there please, feel free to enlighten us).  If that is the case then I'm disappointed in STC who have taken Saudi Arabia two steps backwards because everyone knows that telecom companies make billions of dollars every year - why couldn't they spend a fraction of that money and refurb their current retails sites to cater to female employees.

'Welcome to Saudi Arabia' we told our Kiwi Newcomer - 'a country full of young people who crave, neigh demand, the latest modern technology but are bullied by a bunch of cronies who psychologically live in the stone age'.   Yes, only in Saudi can you insist on flashing around modern accessories and be backwards at the same time.  And STC, and every other telecom company, should be leading the charge forward into the new age, not bending to the old guard, else the rest of the world might start to think you're all a bunch of far too rich wooses.





Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Saudi-izing My Lounge.

I'm planning on Saudi-izing my lounge.  Hubster thinks I've been affected by the sun since my return to Riyadh two weeks ago.  Maybe he's right. 40+ temps take a little bit of adapting to.  But seriously, on looking at our little place, I've decided a bit of a refurb is required.  And a Saudi style salon seems apt in Saudi Arabia, don't you think?

Hubster has agreed that one corner of our apartment can be Saudi-ized.  He has issues with reaching the floor comfortably so intends to keep a couch in the house, just for him.  A friend has already laid claim to the other couch - though I've had to reiterate he's only borrowing it temporarily for the day I tire of having a Saudi style salon and want our couch back.  And of course I will tire of the refurb - I'm a woman.  We always refurb!

So the other day off to Dirah souq I went with The Hubster in tow.   Mr Noor dropped us off outside the souq and we strode our way past the igal and ghutra shops with Hubster mumbling about my sense of direction being off because these don't look anything like Saudi salon furnishings.  Of course, once we reached the section with Saudi cushions, carpets and other Saudi Salon necessities he was like 'Oh....I didn't know this was here!'.

If colour is what you are looking for in Riyadh because you're tired of the dusty brown that tends to envelop this city, with the odd black and white shape drifting through it, this part of Dirah souq is a place you should visit.  The colors are bright and the patterns bold and it all jumps out in complete contrast to the rest of the souqs surroundings of white washed cubicles with fawn colored roller doors.  There are cushions, mats and seats, machine made cotton carpets from Turkey with the most amazing designs and hand loomed wool wall hangings reminding one of simpler times.  And the blokes working there are rather friendly - one gave up his seat so I could pose for a photo when I pulled out my camera.

We passed by a couple of stalls just taking every thing in before deciding to accept the beckoning welcome being extended at one shop, mostly because this guy could speak good English.  Over the next hour we learned a lot about Saudi-izing our apartment (or a small slice therein).  First we were shown carpets and told that once we chose one we could turn it into our seat covers, cushions, seat dividers or anything else we wanted.  Discussions then covered the choices of filling - cotton, foam or polyester and any combination there of and the depth of cushions - again any combination we fancied, from 5 centimeters to 15, depending on how soft we wanted our end product to be.  'We can make whatever you want', our friendly adviser said.  There were also wooden seats of various heights, all with hand painted designs and metal decorations, that Hubster tested out.  Given that he finds long periods of ground dwelling rather uncomfortable, these would provide some necessary elevation for our lounge set.

There is a lot more involved, we discovered, in designing a majlis set for our small corner of the apartment than we first thought.  (A majlis set is the proper name for the mats with matching cushions and arm rests that we are planning on purchasing and sounds a lot better than 'Saudi-izing our home, doesn't it?)  And the myriad of designs to choose from is simply mind boggling to a husband who is hoping this phase shall pass and a woman who, let's face it, didn't know what she was getting herself in for.  I did use the day to attempt to learn some Arabic though!

(Click to view video)

We decided to go home and think on all this information.  A week or so later, I'm still thinking.  Eventually a little corner of our apartment will be styled into a Saudi salon, I just don't intend to rush the idea.  And besides, our friend hasn't come to pick up the couch yet and, given he's rather hopeless at getting himself organised, I'm guessing we still have plenty of time to think about Saudi-izing my lounge.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Furniture Shopping in Riyadh with Mrs B

My friend, Mrs B, and her husband recently moved to a new, unfurnished, residence.  As such it was necessary for her to do a spot of furniture shopping and, to keep her company and offer the occasional opinion on pieces, she invited me along. She assured me that, at some point in proceedings, we'd stop for coffee - that was a carrot I couldn't turn down.  Hence, with her budget in mind, we began our forays into Saudi's furniture-land.

Mrs B had contemplated purchasing household furniture secondhand via www.expatriates.com, the most popular expat website for buying and selling used furniture in Riyadh.  I've used the site myself a couple of times to sell household goods.  You can get a few bargains from the site if you're prepared to search through the listings and then traipse around the city finding everything.  You can also get some very used crap.  After perusing what was on offer on the site, Mrs B decided that buying new would be preferable and much less hassle.

Mrs B has been ably assisted in her furniture shopping expeditions by her driver, Sajid. (Like us, Mrs B has found a reliable taxi driver to cart her around the city).  Having lived here for a number of years he is quite au fait with where women like to shop for all the things women like to shop for because, though we aren't supposed to mix with men, we often end up telling our drivers everything!  So when Mrs B said she needed furniture and stated an estimated price range, (not too expensive), Sajid made a couple of suggestions.

Hence, our first stop was at Al Owayis Souq.  Sajid directed us to a shop tucked into a corner of the souq, with three levels crammed full of furniture.  It was reasonably good quality - I admit I was surprised.  My presumption was that souq furniture would be, well, junk.  A lesson was learned that day and I no longer dis souq furniture shops.

Mrs B, I discovered, is a no fuss shopper.  It's similar to my own method of shopping.  Trawling shops for hours, nay days, comparing prices and fiddly bits is not part of my shopping psyche.  It's obviously not part of Mrs B's either.  She quickly found a bedroom suite she liked, with a reasonable price to match, asked if the shop could provide two sets and said, 'I'll take it!'  Just like that.  No running off to another store to compare, no trudging through miles of malls to find something with a different colored handles.  Nope.  She's a Nike Girl.  Just do it!

Mattresses were chosen in a similar fashion.  We bounced around on a couple in store, testing them like Goldilocks when she visited the Three Bears then, because the mattresses indoors didn't feel comfortable to our mature'ish butts, bounced around on a couple out doors.  It's just as well we were at the souq early.  There weren't many folks around to get offended at ladies testing mattresses out in the walkway of a Riyadh souq. Once again, no fuss purchasing meant we were out of there and on to the next place in no time.

Roomz, just off the Northern Ring Road was our next stop for a lounge suite.  This was the first time I'd ever set foot in Roomz and I have to say, I quite like it.  Lots of floor space, a huge variety of furniture and accessories from the typically Saudi style (OTT) through to more contemporary styles, all pleasantly and spaciously displayed.  It's not overly pricey either.  (I discovered since that Roomz have a psychedelic website too.

We had a bit of fun lounging around on couches, chatting with our feet up because what better way is there to test for comfort than to really snuggle into the couch, just like you would at home, till we found the one perfect for Mr and Mrs B and their dispositions.  They even had it in a color Mrs B liked.  (If they had served hot beverages while we were comfy in the couch it would have made our day).

Our next day's shopping expedition was at the most popular store in Riyadh for furniture and household goods, excluding white ware, - IKEA. (Our apartment is full of IKEA furniture - Hubster bought it all when he first arrived.  It's not the cheapest shop around, nor the highest quality, but what it has is functional and when you're decking out a temporary home in a hurry, functional will do).  Mrs B and I spent over 3 hours in IKEA.  That's a record amount of shopping time for me.  Granted one hour was spent having lunch!

We loaded our IKEA trolley with Mrs B's bits and pieces, confident that the packaged dining chairs, lamps, dish racks and other sundry items would easily fit into the taxi - even if we had to sit on it!

All of these shops gave Mrs B a day to expect delivery of her larger purchases.  Riyadh residents tend to be quite skeptical when it comes to delivery dates because they can be a bit hit and miss in this country.  Many a friend has complained of waiting all day and getting zilch.   It doesn't help that most delivery drivers do not speak a great deal of English, or read a great deal of any other language.  (I realized this fact when Mr Hall, our returned Aussie neighbour, was expecting delivery of some furniture and handed his phone over to me so I could attempt to make sense of the garbled foreign words eminating from his Delivery Driver.  Mr Hall presumed that, as I took Arabic lessons, I would understand Delivery Driver Arabic.  He was very lucky I had actually been studying that day and did manage to ascertain that Delivery Driver was on Khurais Road and was looking for directions to our compound.  Whatever I said must have made sense, because Mr Hall's furniture did in fact arrive that night!)  Mrs B had Sajid to oversee Delivery Driver conversations and the only thing that didn't arrive as she expected, and had to be retrieved, was a bedside cabinet.

Mr and Mrs B are now quite comfy in their newly decked out accommodation and I have learnt quite a bit about furniture shopping in Riyadh.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Golden Brown Cupcakes in Riyadh

The other day I was talking to a bloke about muffins and cupcakes.  'Oh', he said.  'Golden Brown is the best' and he got no argument from me.  Cupcakes and muffins are not usually my cup of tea but then, a couple of years ago, I was introduced to Golden Brown creations and took a real fancy to the mini-cupcakes.  It's not just that they are rather cute with their little iced carrots and bananas sitting prettily atop the cupcake! They're also quite delicious.  It's nice to hear other people still think so after all this time.

Over the last couple of years, more than a few cupcake and muffin shops have opened in Riyadh city central and, being a nosey parker, I've popped in to peruse, and occasionally purchase, the baked treats on offer.
Unfortunately, not all the goodies carried home to be shared with Hubster were as Yummy as the pretty frosting decorations would have you believe.  Many of the large muffins had a mass-produced plastic taste and those piled high with icing are sickeningly sweet.  I was about to give up bothering with The Great Muffin Movement taking Riyadh by storm (a category into which I also lump cupcakes) when I discovered the mini-cupcakes that hail from Golden Brown, an establishment on the corner of Dhabab and Thalatheen, right next to the Family Basket Pharmacy. 

It was, in fact, at the house of Louise that I first laid eyes on a Golden Brown mini-cupcake and I admit I wasn't expecting much.  Even though our hostess with the mostest was waxing lyrical about their delectable-ness, I was somewhat dubious as cakes and bakeries are a dime a dozen in this desert city where a sweet tooth is the norm and obesity must think it's at a fun park!  These mini-cakes had eye appeal, certainly, but they were just so darned small.

But great things come in small packages.
Isn't that what they say?
And the frosting on these little cherubs, made with cream cheese so I hear, is just delish!

Usually these cupcakes are bought by the box and carried carefully to whichever gathering is on the agenda for the day.  (It is not unknown for Mr Noor and I to sample at least one of these tasty morsels on the way to our destination, hence the need to buy a couple of extra's whenever an occasion calls for these sweet treats).  But if you have nowhere to go, or just fancy spoiling yourself (as I did this morning), there is a small space for women only to sit and munch on a cupcake, or three, with mosaic decorated wrought iron seats and tables reminding one of lazy, blue sky days on rough stoned outdoor patios next to an over-grown wild sown garden.  It's just a pity there's no garden in sight.

Golden Brown bakery also sells other bite sized goodies but, to be honest, I only go back for the mini-cupcakes because they make excellent dainties to take along for an afternoon tea visiting friends when the idea of baking sends me into cringing spasms which, these days, is fairly often.  Go try them out.  Let me know what you think.


Where is Golden Brown Bakery?

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Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Let's Have Stuffed Pigeon For Lunch.

It's not often I get invited to eat stuffed pigeon for lunch. The day the invitation was extended I was slightly hesitant. Exactly which kind of pigeon were we talking about?  In my mind there are only 2 types of pigeons. (I'm sure a pigeon expert could rattle off numerous varieties of pigeons that exist but that doesn't mean My Mind would be any better off for the effort).

Kiwi Wood Pigeon

In New Zealand we have Kereru, the Maori name for our Wood Pigeon, a colorful, berry eating and endangered bird protected under the Wildlife Act. (As a heads up, should your neighbor tell you he has a footless chicken in the freezer he means illegally caught pigeon!).

Pigeons on a local Riyadh farm

The other type of pigeon tends to generate visions of annoying, feral, ledge perching, pooping machines - not an appetizing thought!  

It turns out the latter version is the one on the lunch menu today, though I shouldn't think so negatively about pigeons.  According this website, Deterapigeon, pigeons have been an important part of human existence for centuries, only becoming much maligned in recent times.   Humankind has also been eating pigeons for more than a few years.

Hamam Mahshi, as the dish is locally known, isn't uncommon in these parts. Googling 'Stuffed Pigeon' brings up about 2,440,000 results, in 0.29 seconds, mostly of recipes.  The Apple and Raisin stuffing sounded deliciously sweet while the Roasted Morrocan style filled with couscous made my mouth water.  Apparently, the more traditional method is to stuff the pigeon with Freekah, a cereal used in many dishes throughout the Middle East.

It isn't necessary to chase your pigeon through the park to catch it either.  For the raw materials simply head to the Pet Souq on Riyadh's outskirts and you'll find plenty of caged pigeons for sale, though they are still alive which means someone will have to kill the bird in order for you to stuff it.

If popping off pigeons isn't your thing but you'd still like to tick 'I ate pigeon in Saudi Arabia' off your bucket list, then the Mirage restaurant in Takasussi St is known to have pigeon on the menu.  Our pigeon meal was delivered to our door, wrapped in tin foil.  It was surprisingly nice, though it's easy to see why the bird has to be stuffed.  Without all that extra filling they are rather scrawny!

If you've ever been a pooped on by a pigeon and retribution is in your nature, perhaps this could be payback - put stuffed pigeon on your dinner plate tonight.



Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Saudi Women Are Working on Cosmetic Counters.

Riyadh Gallery

On my most recent trip out and about in Riyadh the other day it hit me how many Saudi women are working on cosmetic counters and reception desks these days.

Some time ago the King decreed that women were to be employed in lingerie shops which duly came to pass without the world coming to an end as some conservatives were trying to tell people would happen.  He followed this up with a decree that all cosmetic counters must be manned by women.  And soon, according to this report in the Saudi Gazette, women will be working in abaya shops, clothing stores and numerous other retail outlets.

Make-up counters and lingerie stores aren't the only place you will find Saudi women at work today. A recent trip to the hospital found a shifting sea of black amongst the admin/reception staff.   New arrivals to the country have complained how unwelcoming it is to approach a woman in black. It pays to remember that a year ago you wouldn't have been met by a woman at the counter, much less one in black.
This is progress.
Celebrate it. 

Keeping the youthful population of Saudi from revolting as they have in the rest of the Middle East due largely to unresponsive, out of touch, rip off leadership probably had something to do with these decisions.  

The pressure to deal with the high unemployment of Saudi women and the nonsensicalness of demanding extreme gender segregation then making strange men sell women their underwear and look deeply into their eyes to tell them what color eye shadow suits their personality was probably added incentive to implementing the changes.

As mall trawling is not one of my regular pass times it wasn't until yesterday that I met a wonderful young Saudi woman providing customer service at a makeup counter in a major department store.

At this point in my post I can hear my daughters - 'Mum, you're at a make-up counter!  OMG!' 
Make-up is not something I do, apart from a little lippy now and then.  Skin care, yes.  Make up, no.  The stop at the make-up counter was for my Saudi friend, for what is a mall trip without company.

Photo Credit:www.theage.com.au

We got to talking with this young sales assistant because Saudi women are inquisitive people and are not averse to asking whatever question is on their mind.  She was interested in how an expat came to be out shopping with a Saudi.  We were interested in how she got her job.

Her story, which N translated for me, goes something like this:

She needs the job to support her through her study course.  She has every intention of working her way to the top of the profession she has chosen to study.  The cosmetic job was advertised at the institute where she studies.  She put in her application and got the job.

She gets up in the morning and heads off to an institute to study her course from 7am till 2pm.  Then she comes to the department store and works from 4pm till 10pm.  She does this most days of the week. On days when there is a special promotion (and promotions often last 2 - 3 days), she has to give up her attendance at study to work on the shop floor all day.  She admitted she is very tired.

N and I discussed her story as we wondered around the mall.  Our discussion reminded me of two things that are oft times overlooked by expats as we comment on how different life is in the Magic Kingdom - Not all Saudi's are rich.  Not all Saudi's are lazy.

Of course quite a few are rich. 
Obscenely so.

And a lot more are...not lazy exactly.   Lazy doesn't appropriately define the current general Saudi attitude (mostly of the males) to work.  Lazy implies a lack of energy.   Saudi work ethic, or lack of, is more complex than lacking energy.  There's a whole raft of religious, cultural, economic and historical factors that contribute to the less than optimal work attitude of many of today's Saudi,(especially the men), and I'm sure someone out there is studying it and writing a thesis on it.

With so many stories circulating about how Saudi's, (mostly the men), don't like to, don't want to or don't know how to work it was inspiring to meet a young woman who is taking hold of the changes being implemented by the current King with both hands and making the most of them.  And she's working hard.

It has been said by many that the women will change this country (as they have most others - can you feel the female bias?).  If this one young woman is a reflection of the attitude that the female half of the Saudi population possesses then watch out men.  You're about to be steam rolled by women working on make-up counters!

Ka Kite,
Kiwi

Princess Souq

We went to the Princess Souq this morning.
I doubt a princess has ever actually set foot in the Princess Souq.  The name is rumored to derive from the many dresses you can find at this market, supposedly the cast off clothes of Saudi royalty.

The Princess Souq makes up a small part of the Second Hand Souq which itself is a huge area that can be found down Bat'ha way.  Bat'ha in Riyadh is akin to Otara in Auckland a few years back.  This should give you an idea of what the Princess Souq is.  One rather large canvas covered, tattered carpeted bargain bin for second-hand clothes.

Photo credit: Canandian In Riyadh

You can find clothing for all ages at the Princess Souq.  Children's clothing can be purchased very cheaply as can second-hand abayas, though finding one complete with matching headscarf can be a real chore if not nigh impossible.   The large desert coats can be found here too.  Before we leave the country we'll be back to the souq sussing one out to take home.

Many expat women go the Princess Souq for the dresses.  There are racks and racks of dresses.  Some are beautiful.  Others are spectacular in an over beaded and bauble exaggerated way.  You could spend hours sifting through the masses hanging on the racks marveling at, and commenting on, just what exactly dress designers were thinking when they threw so much decoration on a dress.

I prefer visiting the souq in the morning - there tend to be less people about so you can browse in a more leisurely manner and, more importantly, there is plenty of light.  Evenings are a bit dingy and very crowded at the Princess Souq.

As well as looking at the clothing one should always be on the lookout for Desperate & Disgusting dirty men.  They will follow you about, attempting to rub up against or grope at you.  It is recommended to go with friends to the Princess Souq (or a male if you have one willing to accompany you) but you and your companions should remember not to clog up the alleyways.  The Desperate &  Disgusting think a path full of expat women is a perfect time to walk down the aisle and and will grope at the nearest butt on their way past.  The nice men (and I have to say there are a number of these to be found) usually say 'excuse me' from a gentlemanly distance allowing you to move aside so they can pass.

Also beware of streaming which is only likely to happen where larger groups of the D&D's go shopping.  That's when a group of D&D males will form two lines forcing women to walk between them.  Groping of major proportions goes on for the trapped females as the men stream past.

If you find yourself being followed by just one sleeze ball type at the Princess Souq and you have no intention of letting the varmint upset your day it pays to take action.   Ignoring these types is a bad idea as the creepy crawly grapevine tends to spread word of innocent, unaware expat shoppers and soon slugs aplenty start hanging around.

So, attract the attention of one of the shopkeepers who will usually chase the D&D away.  Either that or stare the dirty blighter down so he knows that you know what he has in mind - he'll usually scurry off then.   A well chosen swear word spat with as much venom and as much volume as you're comfortable displaying is also a good option at this point.  Not exactly lady like behavior at the so-called Princess Souq but reasonable given the circumstance.

Princess Souq location:
Princess Souq is located in the south west corner of the Second Hand Souq (know in Arabic as Haraj) which itself is located in the Manfuha area in south east Riyadh. I usually take King Fahad Road, turn on to the Southern Ring Road then go off at Al Batha Road.  You will see Haraj on your left and will have to U-turn further up Al Batha Road to come back to it.  Then weave your way through the masses of house ware and furniture to find the clothes that make up Princess Souq - good luck!


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Ka Kite,
Kiwi

The Pet Souq in Riyadh

There's a  Pet Souq in Riyadh.
Watching Rosella's winging their way across a blue sky the other day reminded me of it.

Hubster and I went to the Riyadh Pet Souq after much pestering by me.  He wasn't all that keen to go.  Mr Noor had taken him to the Pet Souq three or so years previously to find a talking parrot to keep him company because I wasn't here.  (I'm not sure what that says about me).  The parrot was suggested because Hubster wasn't so keen on the Pakistani taxi fraternity's first idea for easing his loneliness - get a new wife. 

The talking parrots speak Arabic.

Glenn told me stories of baby gorillas in chains at the Pet Souq and powerful animal pee smell rising from the hot animal crap steaming on the ground outside.  I was expecting the worst.

It wasn't that bad.  The Pet Souq has been cleaned up.  Hubster was pleasantly surprised with the effort.

The Pet Souq is south along Al Hair road.  My trusty camera had run out of battery so my trusty phone was called to sneak the photo's.  I'd heard the folks at the pet souq weren't keen on photography - that turned out to be a load of cods wallop (aka - not true).

The Pet Souq is basically a number of shops housed under one roof mostly selling various birds, fish, cats, rabbits and puppies.  Though many of the animals for sale are of the 'take home as a pet' variety I'm fairly certain most of the birds purchased from the Riyadh Pet Souq are destined for the crock pot or the chook house.  Quails, ducks, geese and hens can be found indoors.

Out the back in another area with more birds of various sizes and ages.  Some were so young they were being dropper feed some concoction which we were assured was good for the birds...

...and a couple of long legged baby beauty's were proudly displayed for us that we think were ostriches.

There are a few stalls set up outside the main building selling trinkets, one guy with a few monkeys whose happiness looked questionable (the monkeys, not the guy) given they were squashed into a cage and on sale to this western couple for 600SAR each (we declined)...

Most fascinating were the number of sizable desert lizards.  Given that our forays into the Saudi desert are usually at a rapid vehicular pace or with extremely large groups of expats making lots of noise this would be the only time I would see, or touch, a desert lizard.  They were piled over each other in wire cages and, from memory, were on sale for 25SAR each, destined to be somebody's delectable dinner. 

 There is, so I've heard, a tearoom type facility not far away where the bedouin blokes get together to show off their Master Chef lizard cooking skills.  I'd like to send Hubster along with a camera and an empty stomach.  He isn't so keen.
 

If you're looking for cheap pets this is where you'll find them.  If you're looking for happy animals receiving the highest quality care - well, perhaps the Pet Souq in Riyadh is not the place to go.

Location of Riyadh's Pet Souq
Riyadh Pet Souq Co-ordinates: 24 35.2’ N; 46 44.6’ E

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Ka Kite,
Kiwi