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.