I feel somewhat ashamed, but the other day I went to McDonald's. I think I can only take so much kebabs and hummus and shwarma.
American fast food places are everywhere throughout Saudi and Bahrain. It's kind of sad, to see the American contribution to the Middle East being a lifestyle of obesity. These places are jam-packed with Arabs in traditional clothes, scarfing down french fries and ketchup.
I peered at the menu in the McDonald's drive-thru line. They have a McArabia sandwich, which is a burger in a pita bread with spicy sauce. They call a hamburger a "beefburger," which I assumed is because the word Ham is bad and misleading.
I ordered a cheeseburger and it tasted exactly like a McDonald's cheeseburger. Which I guess fulfills the McDonald's corporate mission.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Online once again
We finally have internet access in our house. I felt strangely deprived not having the internet at my fingertips. We had to go to coffee shops to use the free wi-fi, and then I felt pressure to purchase something each time.
We signed up for the service about 10 days ago, and they came out to the house 4 days ago to hook it up. I thought it would be like Comcast where they supply you with everything to get set up right then and there. But no. We found out we needed a filter and ADSL router. We couldn't purchase from the installation guy. We had to go to the store and buy it separately. So that took another day. Then the following day some random contractor rang the doorbell and said, "We are here to hook up your service!" Was this some sort of scam? Jeff told them, "No, it was hooked up yesterday and working fine." He then went over to check the line and it had been disconnected by the contractors.
He had to tell the contractors that they had actually disconnected our service, and they must connect it again. So they did. Then they presented a bill to Jeff. OK, this was really looking like a scam now. We paid the bill from the other guy the previous day, the "official" guy from the internet company. So Jeff refused to pay this new guy. There was a lot of confusion and calling of the office, and finally the contractor apologized and was embarrassed. Now this didn't seem like a scam, because he acted really apologetic. He left.
And now we couldn't get the router to work. I thought it was a broken router. I took it back to the computer store to return it. The guy tested it out and it worked perfectly at the store. He said, "Ah, it is the circuit. You have to get it fixed by the internet company. Since you are foreign, they will come out next day to fix it."
OK, if it is an advantage to be foreign, I will take it.
I called the internet company, using my perfect, American-accented English. They came out the next day.
We are finally online.
We signed up for the service about 10 days ago, and they came out to the house 4 days ago to hook it up. I thought it would be like Comcast where they supply you with everything to get set up right then and there. But no. We found out we needed a filter and ADSL router. We couldn't purchase from the installation guy. We had to go to the store and buy it separately. So that took another day. Then the following day some random contractor rang the doorbell and said, "We are here to hook up your service!" Was this some sort of scam? Jeff told them, "No, it was hooked up yesterday and working fine." He then went over to check the line and it had been disconnected by the contractors.
He had to tell the contractors that they had actually disconnected our service, and they must connect it again. So they did. Then they presented a bill to Jeff. OK, this was really looking like a scam now. We paid the bill from the other guy the previous day, the "official" guy from the internet company. So Jeff refused to pay this new guy. There was a lot of confusion and calling of the office, and finally the contractor apologized and was embarrassed. Now this didn't seem like a scam, because he acted really apologetic. He left.
And now we couldn't get the router to work. I thought it was a broken router. I took it back to the computer store to return it. The guy tested it out and it worked perfectly at the store. He said, "Ah, it is the circuit. You have to get it fixed by the internet company. Since you are foreign, they will come out next day to fix it."
OK, if it is an advantage to be foreign, I will take it.
I called the internet company, using my perfect, American-accented English. They came out the next day.
We are finally online.
Blockbusting
Those Brazilian pilots we know sure are scared of the Shi’a.
In Bahrain, the Shi’a are the majority I believe, still without political power but in population I think they outnumber the Sunnis. Shi’a villages are denoted by black flags that dot the perimeter of their areas. (Back in the States, I only knew of them as Shiites, but over here they are called Shi’a, I think it’s just another way to say the name)
Anyway, Jeff and I live just a few blocks away from a Shi’a village. We found this compound first, but it was out of our price range. After searching and searching, we really couldn’t find anything we liked. This place was OK, we didn’t love it, but we could stand it, which is 10x better than anything else we saw. So I went back to the agent and asked if we could negotiate the price. We met with the landlady and spent some time with her, and told her that we could get other pilots moved into this compound (as it is brand-new, there are many vacancies) since so many of the pilots were re-locating to the area from Saudi. She dropped the price and we got a home.
We showed the Brazilians the compound and they all loved it. It’s brand-new, it’s right on the water, has a great pool, and is really close to the causeway leading to Saudi Arabia, where everyone has to go for work. We had eight pilots signed up, and they wanted to bring over more, to the point that I thought I’d only have Brazilians for neighbors. After two weeks, several had signed contracts and were about to pay deposits.
Then… one of them saw the Shi’a village and Freaked out. He told everyone that this area was an unsafe place to live. He told Jeff that the Shi’a are dangerous and he shouldn’t leave his wife alone all day near the Shi’a.
Every single Brazilian then backed out of the compound.
Jeff and I just shook our heads. We saw Shi’a villages all over the island. You see black flags everywhere.
Most of the Brazilians moved all the way to the other side of the island, which adds approximately one hour roundtrip to the Saudi airport commute. Guess what’s a few blocks away from their new neighborhood?
A Shi’a village.
In Bahrain, the Shi’a are the majority I believe, still without political power but in population I think they outnumber the Sunnis. Shi’a villages are denoted by black flags that dot the perimeter of their areas. (Back in the States, I only knew of them as Shiites, but over here they are called Shi’a, I think it’s just another way to say the name)
Anyway, Jeff and I live just a few blocks away from a Shi’a village. We found this compound first, but it was out of our price range. After searching and searching, we really couldn’t find anything we liked. This place was OK, we didn’t love it, but we could stand it, which is 10x better than anything else we saw. So I went back to the agent and asked if we could negotiate the price. We met with the landlady and spent some time with her, and told her that we could get other pilots moved into this compound (as it is brand-new, there are many vacancies) since so many of the pilots were re-locating to the area from Saudi. She dropped the price and we got a home.
We showed the Brazilians the compound and they all loved it. It’s brand-new, it’s right on the water, has a great pool, and is really close to the causeway leading to Saudi Arabia, where everyone has to go for work. We had eight pilots signed up, and they wanted to bring over more, to the point that I thought I’d only have Brazilians for neighbors. After two weeks, several had signed contracts and were about to pay deposits.
Then… one of them saw the Shi’a village and Freaked out. He told everyone that this area was an unsafe place to live. He told Jeff that the Shi’a are dangerous and he shouldn’t leave his wife alone all day near the Shi’a.
Every single Brazilian then backed out of the compound.
Jeff and I just shook our heads. We saw Shi’a villages all over the island. You see black flags everywhere.
Most of the Brazilians moved all the way to the other side of the island, which adds approximately one hour roundtrip to the Saudi airport commute. Guess what’s a few blocks away from their new neighborhood?
A Shi’a village.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Round and Round
OK, so I don't have a lot of experience with roundabouts. I think they're common in Europe, and they are absolutely unavoidable here in Bahrain. The only roundabouts I've encountered driving in Seattle are the teeny tiny ones that force you to slow down in residential areas-- which in the world of roundabouts, don't even make a blip on the radar.
The biggest roundabout I've ever seen was recently in Paris, around the Arc de Triomphe. I think it's called Charles de Gaulle Place, or something like that. It seemed to me like 6 lanes (maybe more or maybe less) of speeding traffic going round and round. Everyone there had these tiny little cars and as a mere witness, looked much like a cartoon of scale to me, with the big arc looming in the background.
Over here, roundabouts are a total free-for-all. Take no prisoners, grab your opening and floor the accelerator. So I'm new to roundabouts, but I think I'm clever enough to figure it out.
Here are my observations:
1. Logic dicates that the outside lane is for people exiting the roundabout. Why do people try to exit from the inside, thereby needing to cut across traffic? Forcing the outside lanes to slam on the brakes, therefore slowing down traffic flow.
2. If you are circling 270 degrees to the left, you ought to stay on the inside lane at least 180 degrees and make your way to the outside as you near your exit, thereby allowing merging traffic to join the roundabout smoothly.
3. 50% of the people are very timid. They come to a complete stop when approaching a roundabout... when there are no other cars in the roundabout. Why, oh why, would you need a complete stop? It then creates a line of cars waiting to enter the roundabout.
4. The other 50% of the people are crazy aggressive, screeching around the curves at top speed and cutting in front of you.
Could we just get some normal drivers to obey the rules and maintain the dignity of the roundabout? Isn't the point of a roundabout to control traffic, without traffic signals? To maintain the flow, not create chaos?
The biggest roundabout I've ever seen was recently in Paris, around the Arc de Triomphe. I think it's called Charles de Gaulle Place, or something like that. It seemed to me like 6 lanes (maybe more or maybe less) of speeding traffic going round and round. Everyone there had these tiny little cars and as a mere witness, looked much like a cartoon of scale to me, with the big arc looming in the background.
Over here, roundabouts are a total free-for-all. Take no prisoners, grab your opening and floor the accelerator. So I'm new to roundabouts, but I think I'm clever enough to figure it out.
Here are my observations:
1. Logic dicates that the outside lane is for people exiting the roundabout. Why do people try to exit from the inside, thereby needing to cut across traffic? Forcing the outside lanes to slam on the brakes, therefore slowing down traffic flow.
2. If you are circling 270 degrees to the left, you ought to stay on the inside lane at least 180 degrees and make your way to the outside as you near your exit, thereby allowing merging traffic to join the roundabout smoothly.
3. 50% of the people are very timid. They come to a complete stop when approaching a roundabout... when there are no other cars in the roundabout. Why, oh why, would you need a complete stop? It then creates a line of cars waiting to enter the roundabout.
4. The other 50% of the people are crazy aggressive, screeching around the curves at top speed and cutting in front of you.
Could we just get some normal drivers to obey the rules and maintain the dignity of the roundabout? Isn't the point of a roundabout to control traffic, without traffic signals? To maintain the flow, not create chaos?
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Our compound
Here are a few pictures of our compound. Compounds in Bahrain are very different from the ones in Saudi-- no machine guns, no barbed wire. They are more like apartment complexes or housing developments. A lone guard stands watch at the gate, and that's about it. He signs in guests and helps with deliveries. Apartments are called flats, and stand alone houses are called villas. The first picture is the view as you drive into our complex-- they are villas all lined up neatly. The second picture is the view of the common area swimming pool at dusk. The 3rd picture is of our family room, connected to the dining room, which leads out to the private pool.
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Housing Sitch
Ever since I arrived in Saudi, we've been searching for a place to live. I know I annoyed Jeff by pushing him to take me looking around at places, but he didn't seem to have the same sense of urgency I had. Excuse me for not wanting to have a baby and bring it back to a hotel room.
I was perfectly fine with living in Saudi, since I had read up on all the compounds and it seemed like decent living. We went around and viewed the compounds that were targeted in the Al-Khobar massacre of 2004, as it is known around here. (After all, wouldn't these be the greatest places for Western living?) They were NICE. I'm talkin' beautiful pools, playgrounds, state-of-the-art gyms, abaya-free living (in fact, abayas are prohibited inside the compounds), cafeterias, lounges, etc.
Jeff didn't like the machine guns, the miles of circular barbed wire surrounding the tall compound walls, the security checkpoint where you drove onto a huge mirror so the guards could check for bombs under the car, or in other places, endured the simpler, mirror-on-a-stick thingy.
We found out that these compounds were astronomically expensive! The housing allowance we had would probably cover 40% of the annual cost. Um, no thanks. And, each compound was already full, with waiting lists until 2008. So that's how these compounds got crossed off our list. Most other companies pay directly for expat housing, so I guess that's how these places can charge the high prices. But in our situation, we receive no assistance from the company, so we are on our own, with definitely less leverage as individuals than if the company negotiated a block of villas for everyone.
We ended up in Bahrain because if you don't live in a compound in Saudi, you have to live in an apartment. And apartments in Saudi for women mean prison. It would have meant that I would be stuck inside the apartment anytime Jeff was at work. We could hire a driver, but that would be an added expense. And, after the baby arrived, I wouldn't be able to even take it outside for walks. In Bahrain, we can pretty much have a similar-type of life to back home. There are still restrictions, but after being in Saudi these restrictions seem quite reasonable!
It's all about perspective.
I was perfectly fine with living in Saudi, since I had read up on all the compounds and it seemed like decent living. We went around and viewed the compounds that were targeted in the Al-Khobar massacre of 2004, as it is known around here. (After all, wouldn't these be the greatest places for Western living?) They were NICE. I'm talkin' beautiful pools, playgrounds, state-of-the-art gyms, abaya-free living (in fact, abayas are prohibited inside the compounds), cafeterias, lounges, etc.
Jeff didn't like the machine guns, the miles of circular barbed wire surrounding the tall compound walls, the security checkpoint where you drove onto a huge mirror so the guards could check for bombs under the car, or in other places, endured the simpler, mirror-on-a-stick thingy.
We found out that these compounds were astronomically expensive! The housing allowance we had would probably cover 40% of the annual cost. Um, no thanks. And, each compound was already full, with waiting lists until 2008. So that's how these compounds got crossed off our list. Most other companies pay directly for expat housing, so I guess that's how these places can charge the high prices. But in our situation, we receive no assistance from the company, so we are on our own, with definitely less leverage as individuals than if the company negotiated a block of villas for everyone.
We ended up in Bahrain because if you don't live in a compound in Saudi, you have to live in an apartment. And apartments in Saudi for women mean prison. It would have meant that I would be stuck inside the apartment anytime Jeff was at work. We could hire a driver, but that would be an added expense. And, after the baby arrived, I wouldn't be able to even take it outside for walks. In Bahrain, we can pretty much have a similar-type of life to back home. There are still restrictions, but after being in Saudi these restrictions seem quite reasonable!
It's all about perspective.
On the road again
So I've been driving around Bahrain the past couple of days... by myself... alone... just me! And I can go anywhere I want! It is so different here compared to Saudi.
We moved into our house a couple days ago, and Jeff has been working both days. He is carpooling with Eduardo, who got a place in Bahrain a couple weeks before us. Therefore, the rental car is all mine. For nine weeks now, I've been a captive of the Saudi hotel room, or at the mercy of the hotel shuttle, with its pre-determined schedule and stops (no exceptions). Or, I've had to wait for Jeff and ask him to drive me places. Uh-uh. That's not a way to live.
How nice it is to go where I want, when I want! Jeff especially is happy since I can run errands while he is out. I know he absolutely hated having to take care of the administrative stuff for our household-- in Saudi, I wasn't allowed to do anything. Over here, I can open a bank account and sign us up for internet service, and run around looking for deals on the TV that he wants... all the things he would be forced to do himself if we lived in Saudi.
Ahhh, I think I just figured out why the King of the 15-minute-commute-or-I'm-not-taking-the-job was willing to move to Bahrain.
We moved into our house a couple days ago, and Jeff has been working both days. He is carpooling with Eduardo, who got a place in Bahrain a couple weeks before us. Therefore, the rental car is all mine. For nine weeks now, I've been a captive of the Saudi hotel room, or at the mercy of the hotel shuttle, with its pre-determined schedule and stops (no exceptions). Or, I've had to wait for Jeff and ask him to drive me places. Uh-uh. That's not a way to live.
How nice it is to go where I want, when I want! Jeff especially is happy since I can run errands while he is out. I know he absolutely hated having to take care of the administrative stuff for our household-- in Saudi, I wasn't allowed to do anything. Over here, I can open a bank account and sign us up for internet service, and run around looking for deals on the TV that he wants... all the things he would be forced to do himself if we lived in Saudi.
Ahhh, I think I just figured out why the King of the 15-minute-commute-or-I'm-not-taking-the-job was willing to move to Bahrain.
Finally, a place to live
Been offline a few days. We moved into our rental home a few days ago. We got a place in Bahrain-- it means a longer commute for Jeff to the airport, but better quality-of-life for our family. Jeff will have to cross the causeway each day, passing through immigration and customs, insurance, -- all 7 checkpoints they have along the way. On a good day he will probably make it to the airport in one hour total; on a bad day, two and half hours probably. The worst traffic is on Saudi weekends (Thursday-Friday) when all Saudis escape to Bahrain to drink alcohol and talk to girls.
We heard about a "VIP" pass that will allow Jeff to bypass all the checkpoints and virtually eliminate any stops on the causeway because it's a hidden lane with no queue. It costs $3500 annually, so we are hesitant, but time being money, it might make life a lot easier. Probably this money goes to "hong bao-ing" the government officials... we are not sure, but some guy that forges documents can get this for us. Our new neighbors, a British couple, have this pass, so I will have to ask them all about this before proceeding. We are probably going to do our shopping in Saudi, so we will be over there frequently, even on Jeff's days off. One thing about Bahrain is that everything is so expensive-- like groceries are 3x higher here than in Saudi. And the produce is all wilted, I don't know why.
By tomorrow all our furniture should be delivered, and things should start settling down. I've been in limbo for 9 weeks and I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!
We heard about a "VIP" pass that will allow Jeff to bypass all the checkpoints and virtually eliminate any stops on the causeway because it's a hidden lane with no queue. It costs $3500 annually, so we are hesitant, but time being money, it might make life a lot easier. Probably this money goes to "hong bao-ing" the government officials... we are not sure, but some guy that forges documents can get this for us. Our new neighbors, a British couple, have this pass, so I will have to ask them all about this before proceeding. We are probably going to do our shopping in Saudi, so we will be over there frequently, even on Jeff's days off. One thing about Bahrain is that everything is so expensive-- like groceries are 3x higher here than in Saudi. And the produce is all wilted, I don't know why.
By tomorrow all our furniture should be delivered, and things should start settling down. I've been in limbo for 9 weeks and I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Got the Iqama!
Finally, finally Jeff has received the iqama, the residency permit required to get anything done in this country. And the only reason why we now have it in our hand? Because we are American. I know that sounds terribly ethnocentric, but I am still worked up about this. We went the "extra mile," literally and figuratively, and I didn't see anyone else doing that.
When other people started receiving their iqamas, (people with less seniority than Jeff) it was because a company rep stopped by the hotel one day and collected their passports. We happened to have been kicked out of the hotel by the company, because our 30-day temp housing was up, and moved into another hotel. NO ONE bothered calling Jeff to tell him the rep was at the other hotel. So because Jeff wasn't physically there, his passport was not picked up for processing.
When Jeff persistently called the guy to take his passport to Riyadh, he got the run-around. Oh, someone will be by tomorrow. The next day, Oh, it will be tomorrow... And so on. And then four days passed by. Now at this point, if you didn't already know, I have seriously had it. I'm not someone who is happy cooped up in the hotel room, with no voice, with no ability to get things done. But that is the life of a woman here. So I said (OK, maybe I screamed), "Tell him we will drive to Riyadh and deliver it ourselves!"
Riyadh is a three to four hour drive, depending on traffic, and how much dinging in your ears you can take. But we made the trip. Jeff got to the office in Riyadh and stood in front of the guy and held up his passport and said, "This needs to be done. And it needs to be done by tomorrow." And lo and behold, the iqama was completed the next day.
So for the other guys whose iqamas took 14 days to get, we know it actually only needs to take one day. And other guys whose passports didn't get picked up like Jeff's, they haven't taken any steps to get it completed. They cannot believe we took matters into our own hands. They are still willing to sit around in limbo, waiting for this phantom company rep to swing by and pick up their passports.
And how does being American have to do with getting this job done? I'm not so sure it can be attributed to that exclusively, but I do think our personalities are shaped by growing up and working in the US. Jeff and I are pretty similar in that we are both resourceful when it comes to getting things done. I'd like to think we are not overtly pushy and obnoxiously aggressive, but I do think there's definite culture clash with how we like things done vs. how they are actually done here. And to see the Brazilians sitting passively and letting things like that happen to them drives me up the wall!
When other people started receiving their iqamas, (people with less seniority than Jeff) it was because a company rep stopped by the hotel one day and collected their passports. We happened to have been kicked out of the hotel by the company, because our 30-day temp housing was up, and moved into another hotel. NO ONE bothered calling Jeff to tell him the rep was at the other hotel. So because Jeff wasn't physically there, his passport was not picked up for processing.
When Jeff persistently called the guy to take his passport to Riyadh, he got the run-around. Oh, someone will be by tomorrow. The next day, Oh, it will be tomorrow... And so on. And then four days passed by. Now at this point, if you didn't already know, I have seriously had it. I'm not someone who is happy cooped up in the hotel room, with no voice, with no ability to get things done. But that is the life of a woman here. So I said (OK, maybe I screamed), "Tell him we will drive to Riyadh and deliver it ourselves!"
Riyadh is a three to four hour drive, depending on traffic, and how much dinging in your ears you can take. But we made the trip. Jeff got to the office in Riyadh and stood in front of the guy and held up his passport and said, "This needs to be done. And it needs to be done by tomorrow." And lo and behold, the iqama was completed the next day.
So for the other guys whose iqamas took 14 days to get, we know it actually only needs to take one day. And other guys whose passports didn't get picked up like Jeff's, they haven't taken any steps to get it completed. They cannot believe we took matters into our own hands. They are still willing to sit around in limbo, waiting for this phantom company rep to swing by and pick up their passports.
And how does being American have to do with getting this job done? I'm not so sure it can be attributed to that exclusively, but I do think our personalities are shaped by growing up and working in the US. Jeff and I are pretty similar in that we are both resourceful when it comes to getting things done. I'd like to think we are not overtly pushy and obnoxiously aggressive, but I do think there's definite culture clash with how we like things done vs. how they are actually done here. And to see the Brazilians sitting passively and letting things like that happen to them drives me up the wall!
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Jeff fears something called Eggbert*
My strong, strapping husband is scared of a negative-three-month-old baby. The baby has been kicking for quite awhile. It kicks in a wave your hands in the air, like you just don't care kind of way-- sweeping motions from left to right. It could be elbows or knees. I like to put Jeff's hands on my belly when this happens. He jumps and yelps. He recoils, shaking his hand like it burns.
"But it's so weird," he repeats over and over.
"But it's natural," I say.
"It feels too weird. How can you stand it? There's an alien in your stomach."
And that's why women get pregnant, not men.
*Shortly after finding out we were pregnant, we named the embryo Eggbert, in honor of its humble beginnings. This would give us something to refer to him by. It felt too cold to call it... "It." Afterall, that's how we refer to other people's children. Also, our apologies to our unborn child for causing gender-confusion, if Eggbert turns out to be a girl.
"But it's so weird," he repeats over and over.
"But it's natural," I say.
"It feels too weird. How can you stand it? There's an alien in your stomach."
And that's why women get pregnant, not men.
*Shortly after finding out we were pregnant, we named the embryo Eggbert, in honor of its humble beginnings. This would give us something to refer to him by. It felt too cold to call it... "It." Afterall, that's how we refer to other people's children. Also, our apologies to our unborn child for causing gender-confusion, if Eggbert turns out to be a girl.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Please pay 275% more for 30% less magazine
Jeff bought me an American magazine. He was very proud of himself-- it was a pregnancy magazine, and the cover boasted articles on breast-feeding and pre-natal exercise; subjects he thought I would like. And I would like them-- if these articles were actually in the magazine!
As I went through the magazine, I noticed entire pages had been torn out. Pictures of women wearing skirts, or tank tops, had been defaced with a black Marks-a-lot. I didn't know men here actually had jobs where they had to go through each individual magazine and cover up bare skin! They literally use the black marker to cover up bare legs, or bare arms. Then they decided (for me) that it was inappropriate or see or read articles on breastfeeding and prenatal exercise-- two very healthy, normal subjects. But what do I know.
The magazine cost $15, the US cover price was $3.99. Talk about not getting your money's worth!
As I went through the magazine, I noticed entire pages had been torn out. Pictures of women wearing skirts, or tank tops, had been defaced with a black Marks-a-lot. I didn't know men here actually had jobs where they had to go through each individual magazine and cover up bare skin! They literally use the black marker to cover up bare legs, or bare arms. Then they decided (for me) that it was inappropriate or see or read articles on breastfeeding and prenatal exercise-- two very healthy, normal subjects. But what do I know.
The magazine cost $15, the US cover price was $3.99. Talk about not getting your money's worth!
The Driving School exit no one has ever used
I can’t have a blog about Saudi without mentioning the poor driving skills of its residents. I feel like I am going to die whenever I ride in a car. The people here simply DO NOT know how to drive.
A couple years ago I was riding around in a van in Shenzhen, China. We went through several busy four-way intersections that had no stop signs, nothing to regulate traffic. I asked the driver, “How do you know whose turn it is to go?” He answered, “Whoever is bravest.”
In Saudi, it is not about bravery, but rather stupidity.
-They straddle two lanes, and I wonder if they think the proper way to drive is to have the painted line in the middle of the car.
-No one uses a turn signal. They like to surprise you with their next move.
-They drive on the shoulder of the highway… IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!
-They back up… ON THE HIGHWAY!
-They come to a complete stop… ON THE HIGHWAY!
-They will change lanes right into your car. It becomes our responsibility to honk to tell them this spot in the lane is occupied.
In the Al-Khobar/Dammam region, there’s an exit on the highway marked Driving School. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have never seen a single car go down that path. I don’t think it takes much to get your driver’s license here.
Cars speed in excess of 180 kph on the highway, coming up right behind you with flashing lights. It is up to you to get out of the way! The posted speed limit is 120 kph. The most annoying thing is, the rental car we have sets off an alarm once you go above 120 kph. Ding, ding, ding. And it won’t stop dinging. We made a trip down to Riyadh two days ago, which is about 400 km away. We endured the almost three hour trip with this dinging in our ears. Both of us just about had a meltdown.
I’ve seen many a father driving with a child in his lap. Children don’t sit in car seats—they ride in the front seat, hanging out the open windows, or sitting on a parent’s lap. Or, they stand backwards in the backseat, facing the rear window, staring at us in the cars behind. This is actually not what really bothers me, after all, I grew up during the time before seat belts were compulsory. I know all about rolling around in a station wagon trunk and sitting on the front armrest next to my dad. But here, with 10 lane streets, at least 30 cars zooming through the intersection after the light turns red, cars driving on the on-ramp shoulder to pass, frequent emergency braking—it just somehow seems crazy not to use some kind of safety restraint.
They line up burned out, crumpled, wrecked cars on the side of the highway from Khobar to Riyadh, as reminders of what can happen when driving recklessly. Somehow, I don’t think these reminders are very effective.
These drivers are just oblivious. It creates more chaos and more traffic with everyone’s “me first” attitude than to actually just slow down and abide by normal traffic rules.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)