Red Sands/ Graffiti Wall Trip

Spencer agreed to take a day trip out of Riyadh even though we couldn’t find one of the few of our friends to join us from Eskan.   I had made copies from the library on the compound of things to visit and do around Riyadh.  I thought I had the directions I needed to get to the Graffiti Rock, basically ancient pictures drawn on a wall.  But even spending an hour looking at the map prior to heading out we couldn’t exactly pin where it wanted us to drive once we reached a certain point.  When we left we only had a part of the directions and we thought we could figure out the rest when the time came.

The nice part of the day was driving along the red sands outside of Riyadh, than the vast ugly brown we usually see.  We drove down through steep canyon-like walls into the desert escarpment and we could see the red sands run through the valley below.

During our drive we happened to see truck with a make-shift safety belt for the goat that was in the cab. Spencer and I got a good laugh at the sight of the bahing goat with its own safety belt.

At this point we reached a village on our directions and from there we didn’t know where to go.  We took various roads hoping that something might lead us to where we needed to go.  But nothing. Then I got on Spencer’s phone to see if something online would have directions.  I found something that gave me GPS coordinates!  I thought the struggle was over, and we headed, filled with hope, to this directions. I might add that having a GPS has been a life saver for us and has enabled us go to various places. 

What was going to be a 3 hour short trip ended up taking all day. We didn’t get home until about 5 in the afternoon.  To make a long story short, the GPS coordinates I found online were wrong.  That extra 2.5 hours we spent in the car was pointless.  This is what we found at our destination: a group of white camels.

We drove around so long that the petrol tank was low, we stopped for the first time outside of Eskan to fill up our tank.  Spencer drives a Toyota SUV and we probably filled up 15 gallons or more and paid approximately $8.  It is true that gasoline is cheaper than water here. Amazing. No wonder so many people can afford to drive.

The sun to our backs on the way home cast great shadows.

The Saudi flags are up for Saudi Arabia's National Day

Cool building at the checkpoint

I felt so bad for Spencer who had to drive the whole way.   We decided that next time we need to do our research prior to heading out and make sure we know where we are going.  We were both hungry, tired, and restless.

Would you like a Date?
I learned since being in Saudi Arabia that I do not like fresh ripe dates like these:

They have a very bizarre texture and leave a filmy aftertaste in your mouth that isn't sweet.


But what I've always known is I like dates like this:

Well, I been given fresh dates, yucky, so I decided to leave them out to dry and see if it is that easy to get a delicious date.  I am getting close but it takes a while, that may be because I have left them on the shelf and not out in the sun.  I am afraid of what creatures might indulge themselves.

I've been told that Saudi Arabia has the best variety of dates.  I don't really know what to believe since it comes from the mouth of Saudi's, and from their own farms.  But I have received several varieties of dates.  I was also told that they are very nutritious and when you aren't really hunger just eat some dates and fresh Laban (which would be like buttermilk) to make yourself a very healthy and tasty meal.  Hmmm...not so sure.

Ablutions

I’ve heard a few people make comments about how disgusting the public bathrooms are around here.  I was out at IKEA when I first came here, I had mentioned that previously but this event wasn’t noteworthy at the time.  We arrived there slightly before asr, or afternoon prayer.  (The names of the prayer are ‘fair’ near dawn, ‘dhuhr’ close to midday, ‘asr’ in the afternoon, ‘maghrib’ just after sunset, and ‘isha’ around nightfall).  During special times of the year there is an additional prayer at the end of the day combined with isha making it exceptional long, and planning to go out before 10pm would be pointless.  Anyway, Sergeant Falcon left to use the bathroom before we sat down to eat, but came back saying it was crowded and dirty. The men were washing to head, hands, and feet or performing their ablutions before saying their prayers.  Can you imagine what any public bathroom would look like if you had people washing their dusty feet in the sinks?  Not sanitary, and very filthy.  I hadn’t experienced that, because the women aren’t required to pray like the men.  (As if women don’t have a relationship with God or something, not sure why it is obligatory for men but not women).

 Recently at work I went to use the public bathroom quickly for a bit more privacy (our employee bathroom also happens to be our locker room and a bit cramped which gives little or no privacy if you really have to do your business).  When I walked in the bathroom the floor was glistening from the reflection of light on the water all over the floor.  At first I thought someone had flooded the toilet but they were all working. Then it finally dawned on me, there was a women’s mosque in the hospital near to this bathroom.  Yep, I had become a victim to the ablutions mess finally.  I tip-toed across the wet floor to use the toilet.  Not only was the floor all wet but the room was exceptional humid.  Things like bathrooms, elevators, stairwells don’t get circulation or air conditioning like the rest of the buildings.  I found that to be accurate in the numerous stores, buildings in which I have used their facilities.  This can be a bit uncomfortable considering the temperature at which they can rise. I think maybe it would be in the best interest of Saudi, as it is claiming not to be 3^rd World, to designate a specific basin near to the floor, and maybe it own cubicle where people can perform their ablutions instead of making a mess of all the bathrooms.  I am just saying.

Although the pictures below you can not see the wet floor, I have a photo-less blog at this point so I just added the pictures I took from Spencer's iphone.  I wish I could have captures it better

Ladies Tea September 5^th

I am hardly good with names and when it comes to my patients I use their medical record numbers or their room numbers. A name like Mohammed and Faisal are quite common that by using just first names we would easily be mixed up but then you combine their other 4 names and get really confused because you can’t pronounce them.  So I justify my lack of recognition to the lack of variation.  I am prefacing my very bad use of names in this story I am about to tell.

I was at work and had received a missed call.  Most of the time I leave my phone at my home, which is a 6 minute walk from my job, another justification.  Well, I brought it today because the bike lock Spencer ordered finally arrived, which is what was holding me back from taking up a more permanent residence with Spencer.  Yes, we live separate in case I hadn’t mentioned or made that clear earlier and what is worse is for safety and security Spencer cannot drive off his compound without a companion.  I didn’t recognize the number so I called it back, which I don’t normally do.  It was Ali’s wife (I cannot recall her name even though she spelled it out to me later), and I also learned that Ali really isn’t Ali but Fahad. Well there you go, Fahad, Abdul… are all very common names.  She wanted to invite me over tonight for a light dinner with some of her friends.   I wanted to see Spencer but I thought this might be a fun experience and get to see more the home life of Saudi’s and get to know these women more.

I had my doubts about attending and asked several co-workers what they would do in my situation.  Maybe I didn’t give them complete information but even a Saudi Respiratory Therapy eavesdropping on the conversation chimed in saying she wouldn’t go.  It is a patient’s family, you don’t want to get yourself in a sticky situation, and/or give them the wrong impression since your husband isn’t invited.   At that point I wasn’t so sure.  I got home from work and called up Spencer to consult and get his opinion on what I should do in this situation.  We discussed it and decided this time.  I just felt maybe I was using them to get the insider view, which didn’t feel fair, because I didn’t feel I had much in common with them to have a true friendship.

I took a taxi there which was about 15/20 minutes one-way.  The taxi driver promised to pick me up at 10:15 about 1 hr and 45 minutes from when he dropped me off.  There was a ‘guard’ at the entrance that let me pass through the gated wall.  I was greeted by wife (I will call her that until I get clarification as to her name) and directed into the same sitting room by which I have a picture from a previous entry.  The coffee table had small bowls filled with an assortment of nuts, and one other woman was sitting there as well. She was Lebanese and taught French/English translation at the ‘Largest Women’s University’ in the world.  Which it most likely is the largest Women’s University and they probably have the largest men’s ONLY university as well, not many Universities segregate their students and would probably go bankrupt anywhere but in Saudi Arabia. 

Nouf entered the room, and chatted with Lebanon in Arabic. I listened to the garbled Arabic and couldn’t get a word out of it.  When you are learning a language people have to speak at a rate probably 10 times a slow as they normally would.  So maybe I just watched them converse as I popped the tasty nuts into my mouth. Wife came in and we chatted. She claims not to have good English and says Fahad and her brother’s make fun of her mistakes.  But I told her you have to keep talking even if it is hard, and you want to speak Arabic and everyone says something silly in another language when they are learning it.  As a matter of my own opinion she speaks English quite well, I mean she can understand and converse…that is huge. She is quite nice to me and I enjoy speaking with her.  They all appear a bit more normal and not so done up which is nice.  She talked about her farm, the animals, and camping out at the farm.  She said I would have to come with them.  I would love to see how they camp and see the farm and take a trip into the dessert with them.  Do the men ever get to come?  I know Spencer would love to experience some of this stuff.

That really was the course of the evening.  An Aunt, friend, and pregnant sister came eventually.  I worked up the gumption to ask Nouf it was culturally acceptable to get a tour of other’s homes.  Nouf said usually when they have a new house people given tours, so it is okay and she would give me a tour.  It seemed that Lebanon was also glad I spoke because she jumped up to join the tour and said she would like to come along.   We received a tour of the main/entrance floor only.  The upper floor was the families’ residence including their dining room, living rooms, and bedrooms. The lower floor was the servants’ quarters and the kitchen.  So my tour was the main floor only.  Men and Women have separate entrances to the house, and separate entertaining quarters.   This family rarely has men guests and Nouf demonstrated the fact when she patted the arm of the couch and dust billowed into the air.  I guess Fahad isn’t very sociable, at least in his own home.  The Women side is a large open spacious high ceiling entrance.  A beautiful spiral staircase was straight ahead leading to the family quarters.  The ceiling above the staircase was a huge-dome of stained glass.  From the entrance you have a sitting room, which is the room Spencer and I sat during my first visit. There is also a visitor’s room and bathroom nearby.  On the other side of the Entrance Hall is another living room which had long couches on the floor lining all the walls and a big mantle and fireplace at the far end. Nouf said when it gets cool they come into this room and drink warm drinks and have fires.   We walked through a hallway with doors on either side and a huge dining room which could probably sit over 20 people. These doors separated the men and the women’s house.  The men’s side also had a large entrance hall a sitting room of yellow hues, a study-like room, and a large green columned marble sink.  It would be the kind of bathroom you might find at an exclusive hotel or fancy restaurant.  The sink, walls and around the mirrors was all made from this green marble. It was stunning.

Back to the Purple sitting room, Arabic coffee, chocolates, and mint tea was passed around the room by the hired help.  Wife left and came back saying to me she knew I was going to leave early so she told the help to bring in the food early.  Eating at 10 o’clock isn’t early for me.   But it was a nice gesture.  There was an assortment of sandwiches, grilled eggplant hors d’oeurves, stuffed mushrooms, and stuffed grape-leaves.  It was all very nice.  When I was on my way out Nouf had said next week they are going to have a get-together outdoors.

August 28, 2012

Today I am 30. Strange to think that last year I had just been traveling around Serbia, Romania, and Moldova flying into Austria to spend my birthday with my family, and this year I am in Saudi Arabia with Spencer.  Spencer took the day off and had a few things planned for my birthday. Originally we were going to go horseback riding but leaving late, and not finding the golf course where they had the horses in a timely fashion by the time we arrived the man told us that he thought we weren’t coming so he sent the trainer home, and the horses were put away.  We did call the golf course for directions and told them we were running late, but the message stopped there and wasn’t forwarded to the stables.  We didn’t push the issue because it was tremendously hot and the thought of riding horses in the nearby canyon nearby wasn’t too appealing to either of us.  Maybe we’ll come back another day.

That evening Spencer took me to the Globe Restaurant which is at the top of the Faisaliah Tower. At the top of the tower there literally sits a huge globe, in which within is the Restaurant.  So up there in the dimly lit Restaurant you get great views of the city.  It was a fancy place. The tables were well spaced around the perimeter of the Globe allowing each table a great view of the city below.

  The food was the fancy, tasty, and small portion kind of food. We enjoyed ourselves.  It was one of those things that you do once for the experience. 

The following day I went out with a co-worker of Spencer’s to get a manicure and pedicure.  My feet were in bad shape with such extreme dry weather.  I paid an extremely high price for the quality of manicure I got, but the pedicure was worth the price and my feet have never felt smoother. We’ll see how long that lasts.

On the drive there, our driver told us to look at the age of the driver next to us. I automatically assumed that he would be ancient but to my surprise he was actually probably no more than 10.  He was accompanied by his mother in the passenger seat with two siblings jumping around in the back.  She probably had errands to run and since she can’t drive and without a husband presently she got her preadolescent son to do it.  I see families all the time with kids sitting on their dad’s lap behind the stirring wheel, many kids jumping around with no seat belts.  This is probably one of the most dangerous countries to drive and they have no concern for the safety of their kids.  It’s disappointing to me.

Anyway, Spencer invited a small group of people to meet in the evening at the Community Center for cake and ice cream in celebration of my birthday.  He came home directly from work and started on his masterpiece, Chocolate peanut butter cake with chocolate and peanut butter frosting.  It didn’t turn out quite like he wanted, it didn’t stay in one piece but he only received raving reviews of its taste. ‘Nothing but the best for my wife,’ he said with a smile as he commented on the remark that it was all made from scratch.

It was a wonderful couple days of celebration, now I have moved forward into a new decade of life. It seems strange to be childless, really still slightly directionless as to a career, and without passion.  Where does it come from?  How do I obtain it?  I don’t think I could have ever foreseen my future to be as such when I was dreaming about my future as a child. I am satisfied and content with my life as it is, I’ve had many wonderful years of experiences and doing things that many will never get to do.  I’ve met friends from around the globe and seen many of the world’s wonders.  Then on the home front I have some of the dearest and most wonderful friends who have celebrated my joys, and carried me through the rough patches.  I can thank my Heavenly Father for blessing me with so much. 

August 26th, 2012

The other day at work I had a son of my patient invite me to a wedding.  He pulled me back inside his father’s room to explain to me that he didn’t want to invite everyone, as if I was very special to get such an invitation. I have spent some time taking care of this man’s father before and was engaged in conversation about Saudi and my experiences thus far.  He offered to introduce me to his wife and said that I should become friends with Saudis to really experience and gain a liking to the place.

I thought it would be very interesting to attend a wedding, and text Spencer immediately afterward to see if he might be interested in coming because the invitation was extended to him as well.  I was told by this friend that my husband was welcome although the men’s portion isn’t quite as entertaining, lengthy or lavish as the women’s party.  As everything else in Saudi culture, women and men do not mix. They are separate parties, the men never actually seeing bride nor the groom, and technically come to find out; it isn’t a wedding at all but a reception.  The marriage is just bridge and groom together each having a witness or the bride, her father to consent, they sign a paper in front of some legal dude, and there you go a Muslim wedding.  Awesome!  Then at some point they adopted the Western wedding of white dresses and veils.

Anyway, I am jumping ahead of myself.  Ali, my new friend, told me that he had to see if his wife could get an invitation card for me.  That is the only way women are allowed, an exclusive party, and you must bring your card.  So Ali invited me even before he knew he could get me a card. He said usually the cards go out a couple months in advance. He knew for sure he could get one for my husband, somehow that is easier to obtain.  Even after I told Spencer to reply ASAP to the invite, it wasn’t certain, and basically wasn’t until the day of.  I had a day off between shifts and got a call from Ali telling me he had the cards. I met him at the hospital, to obtain them and get directions where to meet him that evening.

It is a bit of an ordeal  for me because I have to go down to Spencer’s, to then come back into the city with him, since he cannot  go anywhere off the compound solo. 

We met Ali’s son, Faisal, at a nearby grocery store at 9 PM. We followed him to his high secure walled enormous house, where we were led into the sitting room.  The ‘maid’ proceeded to bring us water. There were two other workers around, bet you never guess their nationality?  Filipino. Congratulations if you got that right.   You are beginning to understand Saudi culture.  Is America that bad?  Do we not like to get our hands dirty or do manual labor?  I scorn the Saudi’s but reflecting upon some American’s it seems that we have more Latin American labor workers than white.  Back to my story, we sat in this lovely sitting room, which the couches had piles of pillows on them waiting patiently for someone to come talk with us.  When Ali came he apologized to us saying that everyone was busy getting ready.  He sat down and chatted with us. Not long after Jessie, a Lebanese American living in Saudi came into the room.  She was great and provided some relief to me the rest of the evening. 

Ali pulled me into the hallway to meet his lovely wife; Spencer wasn’t welcome because she wasn’t wearing her abaya.  Looking at her, she was a beautiful woman and seemed much younger than him but she had daughters my age and older.  Ali took Spencer and they left for the men’s party.  I sat with Ali’s wife, Jessie, and Nouf, Ali’s daughter (she entered shortly after Spencer left).  Ali’s daughters were beautiful.  He has two daughters, 31 & 24, both of whom were married and had at least one kid. The younger daughter was pregnant.  We sat in that room for another 1 ½ before leaving for the party.    I found them easy engage, converse, and they did like my humor. 

These ‘weddings’ are celebrated in a conference or reception hall, the venue is chosen by the family depending their wealth and prestige.  Women spend hours in preparation, their hair, make-up and gowning up in beautiful dresses of all kinds, sleeveless, strapless not like you would assume in such a repressive society of women.

Upon entering the hall there is a big entrance hall and a cloak room off to the right.  Once you hand the Asian ladies your Abaya in exchange for a number card I proceeded to the right down a huge hallway that lead to a room with music blaring from the door. The women’s restroom was off to one side. (I later went to the restroom with Nouf because we both had a hot drink spilled on us.  The bathroom had mints, hair spray, bobby pins, and static spray, seriously everything you could think a woman might need when going to the bathroom).

Once we entered the banquet room there was a long row of women standing.  I smiled shook hands, and kissed cheeks with dozens of women I’ve never met, nor could converse with.  I repeated something like ‘congratulations’ in Arabic which Jessie had rehearsed with me. 

The banquet room that we met in was quite large; I can’t exactly give a size comparable to something you might recognize.  But there was enough to fit 350-400 women in organized couches and rows of chairs.  There were speakers surrounding the room, blasting music from a woman singing at the far side.  In the middle of the room was a ‘cat-walk’ that spanned the length of the room at one end had a couch and the other a door.  As the music played and songs were recognized it brought  women of all ages from their chairs onto the cat walk where they danced to the blaring slow beat in a two-step fashion and rolling their wrists as they strolled back and forth along the cat walk.  Food was served by Asian women, assortments of hors d'oeuvres, wrapped and unwrapped chocolates, Arabic coffee, more and more until you had enough to burst.  My new friends would give me chocolate and tell me to give it to my husband.

Spencer sent me a text about an hour after I arrived saying he had been deserted by Ali. They had their dinner and sat briefly before leaving.  When they got back to the house Ali told Spencer he was going to the hospital to stay with his father, and that I would call Spencer when I was done and needed to be picked up.  Ali didn’t invite Spencer to wait inside, and I am not sure he would have if he had known that Spencer couldn’t leave without for two reasons:  1.) his place was about 45 minutes from here 2.) He would be breaking the rules leaving alone.  So we talked briefly, when there was a break in the music, Spencer would wait in the car.  He drove away from the house and had to an inconspicuous place neither in front of someone’s guarded house, nor too dark and unsafe.

Several hours later, around 1 am the bride finally emerged and slowly as if marching to the traditional wedding beat walked through the door, down the stairs, and across the cat walk where she sat waiting for her counterpart, this whole process was on caught on film.  I wonder who would or could actually watch the film?  Would they have to black out the bride’s face?  Okay, maybe I am being sarcastic here but seriously, I guess as an unhappy wife could pull out the video while eating her bonbons and remember the days of excitement and happiness about her recent marriage.   Anyway, waiting what felt like an eternity the groom then followed the bride across the cat walk and sat next to her on the coach.  Prior to this the women in the room went frantic, scarves, cushions, and make-shift covers were pulled out to shield the women from the men who emerged, uncles came behind the groom.  I just couldn’t believe how ridiculous the women behaved.

Yet, after the uncles left some women danced in front of the groom unveiled/uncovered.  Were they his sisters?  The bride and groom didn’t look at each other once during this whole procession nor did they whisper to each other. What kind of relationship did they have? Was this the norm to ignore your spouse sitting next to you?

The bride and groom eventually walked back across the catwalk to the banquet room where I was told they cut the cake and get more pictures taken.   More trays of smoothies, chocolate, and smoking coals were brought through the room. The smoke was waived by each person in front of their face and they inhaled the smoke.  I don’t understand why they performed such a practice but the whole room was smoky. It wasn’t until 2:20 that we were allowed into the banquet room to feast.  And what a feast it was, this really showed the lack of etiquette of the women, cutting in line, and pilling food on their plates. 

Apparently you can stay into the daylight hours, and at 7am you would be served a light breakfast at which time you line up for your driver to take you home where you sleep all day. 

We ate; I sampled so many of the dishes and all the desserts.  It was so late already, and the pain of the morning was starting to hit me, yes, I had to get up at 6AM for work.  I thought, okay, I’ll do it once but never again and truthfully I am sticking with it.

Jessie and I left together, Nouf walking us to the cloak room and bidding me farewell, and saying we should get together again.  I would love to, but am I using them to try to get an inside view of the culture, do we have much in common or would it be awkward? We’ll, see anyway what happens.  I spend my days off at Spencer’s at least for now when I only see him when I don’t work.  That may change when I get out here every day.

Nouf called me that evening to ask me how everything went.  She wanted to know if I was coming to the wedding tomorrow night.  I told her I needed a break, and it was my birthday but that we should keep in touch and do something.  I think another thing holding me back is the taxis. It isn’t too cheap to be riding around in a taxi all the time. It adds up.

I might add that I apologize for the lack of pictures.  It isn't allowed to take pictures at the weddings, nor of women without their abaya and potentially the scarf covering their heads/faces.  I did get a picture with Nouf but I am respecting her wishes and withholding the picture.  

SPENCER’S STORY OF THE EVENING

Ok, I'm going to chyme in with my own little story: 

I pride myself on being open-minded and culturally accepting.  I loved the Iraqis.  Japan was great!  Germany awesome.  Guatemala amazing.  However, after being forced to sleep in the back seat of my car until 4am, I'm not a fan of the Saudi "harem" culture.

Simone got invited to a Saudi wedding reception by Ali, a relative of one of her patients.  We met Ali at his home where I was sequestered and put into a waiting room.  Simone spent most of the time in the waiting room as well, but she was allowed to walk around the house a bit and meet his wife.  After about an hour, I left with Ali for the reception.  Simone remained behind at Ali's house.  The reception is segregated, and the men's part goes from about 9pm to 12am.  The women's part runs from 11pm to 4am.

The men's part of the reception was great.  Ali was very hospitable, making sure that I tried all of the various food.  The reception itself was very impressive with about 300 males in attendance and two huge ballrooms.  There was a tremendous amount of food, and all the men were dressed in traditional garb.  

As a side note, Ali did look down on the Indian employees who had been hired by the reception hall.  Saudis don't engage in manual labor, so the country is filled with workers from other countries.  Ali was not impressed with the quality of service, commenting that Filipinos do a better job.  I was offended but didn't let that keep me from enjoying some dessert.

Back to the story:  Around 1130pm, we arrived back at Ali's where I expected to be invite inside to wait for Simone's return.  The military does not allow me to move around Saudi by myself, and even if I could, my base was an hour away.  Ali knew that.  Regardless, Ali did not invite me into his house.  He told me that Simone would call when it was time for me to pick her up.  I was stunned and actually panicked a bit.  I recently saw the movie The Kingdom, which has reinforced my fear of terrorist attacks.

Not being invited in, I drove my car around the block and parked.  I eventually decided that I had no option but to sleep in the car until Simone returned.  Unfortunately, I only had a 1/4 tank of gas, so I couldn't continuously run the air conditioning.  I crawled into the back seat and rolled down the windows a bit.  Even though it was late at night, it was still 90 degrees.  I was sweating.  Misquotes were biting me.  I could barely sleep.  It was a terrible experience.

All day, I've been thinking about what happened.  What went wrong?  Why did Ali not invite me in?  I thought Ali and I were such good friends, but he abruptly abandoned me.  After a bit of thought, I realized that Saudi has a "harem" culture.  No one will really admit that, but it's true.  Women are quasi-property of men.  Men see other men as threats to their property.  Letting me inside his house would give me access to that property, which he has to protect at all cost.  It doesn't matter that no women were present in the home.  Other men should not be allowed access to a harem's location.

Don't think that the men alone perpetuate the harem culture.  In a very real sense, a lot of the women enjoy this harem culture.  The men's reception was fairly dull despite how impressive it was.  The women's reception was at least twice as extravagant.  They had more and better food.  They had larger ballrooms with more guests.  They had loud music, which they danced to throughout the evening.  They partied into the early morning.  Most of all, they got to take off their abayas (black robes) and show off their beautiful dresses and make-up to each other.  It's as if the women walk around all day actually believing that they are so desirable that they must always cover up or risk evoking uncontrollable sexual urges within the male population.  That's delusional, but I suppose we all dabble in narcissism at times.  

Ali has let Simone know that she is welcome to join him and his wife for their various outings, but I cannot come along.  It would be inappropriate for me to join them.  In other words, Ali is perfectly comfortable laying quasi-claim to my quasi-property (Simone).  However, he would never allow me around his quasi-property.  It just all disgusts me.  Truth be told--the culture demands some of this behavior from the men and women.  Even if they don't completely subscribe to the harem culture, women and men would lose respect and perhaps social status for not adhering to the principles of the culture.  

Even though women have very few rights in Saudi, I don't find it great here as a male either.  Simone can move around as she pleases because she is non-threatening in this culture.  However, I'm viewed as a threat in a lot of situations, making me uninvited.

Anyway, that's my story.  I guess it boils down to the fact that I had a bad night's sleep, and I'm pissed about it.  Even with this experience, I still think the next 10 months are going to be an adventure.  Thanks for letting me share my update in the form of one story.