Cultural Immersion

While waiting in the Riyadh airport, I became the object of an admirer’s attention. A Saudi man was sitting with a group of about six other men, all were dressed in Western attire. The man was an average looking man, probably in his early 30's. I was in my abaya and hijab. He kept sneaking glances at me and smiling, hoping to catch my eye. This went on for a very long time. He never made any attempts to speak to me – that’s considered a no-no in Saudi culture. He only stared and he wasn’t making any attempts at hiding it. I was waiting for him to approach to pass me his phone number. The phone number exchange is how young Saudi men and women ‘date.’ Aside from arranged marriages and underground societies, there is very little opportunity for Saudis to date. There is no traditional dating like in the US - no hand-holding, no movie dates, no one-on-one dinners out. Although it would have made for a good story for both me and the Saudi man, he didn’t approach me with his number.

On a brief stint on the way from the Riyadh airport, I had the opportunity to grab a bite to eat at McDonald’s – a unique cultural experience in itself. As the first stop for me in Saudi Arabia, it was a bit of a cultural shocker, even being at a Western fast food establishment, a franchise that I’ve visited before in many other countries. The McDonald’s had two doors for an entrance – one for single men, the other for families, which included women, children, and married men with their families. Being a woman, I had to enter through the family door. The McDonald’s was literally split in half. The queues at the counter had a divider, floor to ceiling, so that those one the single men side could not see the family side, and vice versa. On the famly side, the booths had curtains that could be pulled shut so that women could take off their niqabs (the piece of cloth that covers a woman’s face so that only her eyes show) and eat with their families in privacy so that no one would see their faces.

McDonald's with curtained booths

Women and families are only permitted to each in restaurants that have family sections and many restaurants do not. This forces women and their families to eat at home, frequent only family-friendly establishments, or, according to a story I heard, wait outside schwarma restaurants (where meat is carved off a rotisserie), asking men to bring them out food or asking waiters to come out to the street to serve them.

I’m sure some are wondering if the McDonald’s menu was the same as in the US – it was – however, the pace of service was much much slower. This was fairly typical of all restaurant service in the Middle East. It’s just a slower pace. Life functions much slower there. The average day begins at a normal time, but then everything shuts down between 12pm-4pm for early-afternoon prayer time, lunch, and rest. Activities start back up after the mid-afternoon prayer, shops re-open at 4pm, and people are out and about until late at night, often until 11pm-12am, families with children, too. It was difficult getting used to this change of pace, having to schedule around times of rest, as well as having late nights.

Naptime in the souq (market)

Hijab Girlfriends

I was told that I’d have to de-plane wearing my abaya (black robe) and hijab (head scarf) in Riyadh, although, it was a bit of a surprise to see how everyone gets changed or dressed on the plane. The closer we got into Saudi air space, more and more people took trips to the tiny bathroom to get changed. Women who weren’t already dressed, unpacked their black abayas and hijabs from their carry-ons and began to put them on. I did the same. Luckily I had an empty seat next to me so that I could get more easily situated. It was pretty difficult keeping my abaya all snapped up, neck to ankle, while maneuvering. It was even more difficult to put my hijab on for the first time and without a mirror. Some bobby pins helped, but only somewhat. I looked to my right and two beautiful young Arab women were sitting by the window giggling, watching the entertainment in front of them. I smiled. They mimed how I should put it on and some changes I should make. I tried to comply. They smiled and nodded once I looked how I should.

Throughout the flight, men would take prayer rugs to the back of the plane where there was a bit of extra space and pray. The tv screens had a flight map depicting what countries we were flying over and which way Mecca was. The men prayed facing in the direction of Mecca, the Muslim holy city.

As Western airports have chapels, prayer rooms or prayer areas are consistent in Middle Eastern airports. A simple wall blocked off an area of the airport, men would leave their shoes outside of it, unroll prayer rugs, and perform their five-times-a-day ritual as airline passengers passed by behind them.

As I disembarked and entered the lines for customs in the Riyadh airport, I noticed line after line of men, many Indian, Pakistani, and Southeast Asian men patiently waiting to pass through. Women were quickly escorted through the ‘family’ line, so as to not have to wait with the men. Segregation was apparent. I quickly made it through customs. It was a bit entertaining hearing the custom's official trying to pronounce my name.

Waiting at the Gate

My recent travels began with a paradoxical observation in the DC airport – a rugged backpacker carrying a huge backpack, likely traveling to Europe, and waiting to board my plane to London. In all his ruggedness and (I’m assuming) his love of all things nature, he was carrying a blue Walmart tote. It made me chuckle.

Flash to flying into London, looking out the window, eyeing white sheep dotting the green green pastures.

In London’s Heathrow airport, while waiting out a layover, it was fun looking at all the Royal Wedding kitsch that was left over from the festivities the week before – everything from business cards holders, plates, and mugs with Prince William and Kate’s names and faces on them, to pillows embroidered with the couple’s faces, to Kate dolls. There was also a Cadbury vending machine.

Waiting at the gate, it began to dawn on me just how different this trip was going to be for me, particularly my journey to Saudi Arabia. I never thought I would have the opportunity to go to this restrictive country. I was going to be quite out of place as a pale Western Christian woman with red hair traveling to and immersing myself in a country where women have very few rights. Glancing around at the travelers waiting at the gate with me, I realized two Muslim men were nearby. They were dressed to go to the Hajj in Mecca – bare-chested with white fabric draped like a sash across their torsos, with long white skirts and sandals. I was on my way to Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia.

Tail Logos and Day Dreams

One of my favorite things to do on a plane while taxiing is trying to identify the airlines and destinations of the planes near me based on their colorful tail logos. It’s sort of a grander version of the license plate game people often play on road trips.
I look out my window and see:

Hawaiian Airlines with a Native Hawaiian woman. When will I get the opportunity to go back?

Alaskan Airlines with an Inuit as the tail logo. Will I take a cruise there someday?

Saudi Arabian Airlines with the two crossed swords and a palm tree. I never thought I’d have the chance to visit.

EgyptAir with its mythological symbol. The pyramids and Petra call to me.

South African Airways with a flag and sun.  A safari is one of my lifelong goals.

Aer Lingus with a fun shamrock. I had such a wonderful time there my first time.

And when I’m in far off places, I get the chance to see planes that I’m not normally accustomed to – Iran Air with a griffin and even CubanaAir – and likely will never have the opportunity to visit.

Even though I’m already traveling, when I see plane tail logos I’m enticed to daydream of far off destinations such as Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam. How is it when I’m in the midst of traveling I’m already planning my next adventure?

Back on Home Turf

During my recent excursions, I kept a travel journal, as I didn’t have regular internet access to update Wide Lanes over the past month. I didn’t want to miss the interesting tidbits, the strings that pulled on my daily life abroad, minute as they may be to the apathetic traveler, but of great meaning to someone that travels with passion. Over the course of my subsequent postings, I will detail aspects of my almost three weeks in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, and the UK.

Time to get the notes in order...