There’s no place like Riyadh

For some reason, I always expect the places and people that I haven’t seen in a while to have changed in some way that I can see, or in ways that are tactile and tangible. When I go home to the states, I’m somehow always surprised that the grass is green and my parent’s house looks the same, give or take a few seasonal decorations. I’m sure a few people that I know have caught me staring at their faces wondering what, if anything, is different about them. The only thing that truly changes is the height and vocabulary of my niece and nephews. I suppose I feel this way because I always sense that I am missing so many important moments. These feelings are the subject of an article I read the other day by Julia Kristeva called “The Foreigner”. She refers to non-nationals, such as myself, as deriving “masochistic pleasure” from experiences outside our homeland. The idea that one can love and relish being in a new place and learning the culture, while at the same time experiencing the longing and melancholy of being away from those that we love.

I arrived back in Riyadh at the beginning of September, after a wonderful summer break, and was mysteriously alarmed that the desert still reigns supreme. I was surprised that the traffic was still as horrendous as when I left, and that my villa has all of the same pictures on the walls and pillows on the couch. To be honest, every time this happens I ask myself, “What was I expecting, exactly?”. But the answer is always the same.

Riyadh is very hot this time of year. I have never been here in September, as I took this job in October of 2010, and last year we were traveling throughout the month. Now, more than ever, I’m thankful for that trip because this heat is brutal! Not to mention the fact that the country’s choice of attire for me isn’t exactly “breathable material”. Nevertheless, there were definitely a few friendly faces and smiling persons that I was thrilled to see. How grateful am I that there are persons whom I look forward to seeing wherever I am? Very.

I think it’s important to recognize that although places can be so different from the norm that we know, they can still have a quality that you miss when it’s absent. When I took this job, a very good family friend, whom I have known my entire life, said to me, “Accept it for what it is and do not try to fight it, or you’ll miss out on the experience and you won’t get anything from it: adapt to it, don’t make it adapt to you”. The pace of life in Riyadh has a relaxing tone. I’ve written before about the sedentary lifestyle that I have historically struggled with, but I have come to appreciate and even look forward to those days when there is literally nothing to do but sit down for a while and just be. My student has decided that I have become “a little Saudi.” When I first arrived, I was a beehive of activity from start to finish (as much as I could be anyway). She would tell me, “Slow down, it will all get done and it will get done on time. You’re too busy, just be in the moment.” I would tell her that the moment for me means not to let it go by unfilled. Now, after nearly two years, sometimes I catch myself telling her to not stress and to give herself a minute to recoup. Maybe she is right about me. Maybe I am becoming “a little Saudi.”

In Islamic culture, there are not many holidays that are cause for complete celebration and rejoice, as we know it in the states. Ramadan, the main holiday of the year, is more a time of reflection and prayer than it is for dancing, chanting, decorating, and singing. Some of the traditional holidays that we celebrate in the U.S., such as New Years and Halloween, are borrowed for carnival here. These holidays are not a part of Islamic culture, although from what I gather, they are used as mostly just a reason for the young people to get together with friends and say that it’s for a “cause.” However today, September 23rd, is National Day in Saudi Arabia, the basic equivalent of July 4th in the U.S.

For most countries, the battle for independence is deep rooted in faith and a sense of freedom…freedom from control or freedom from disorder. Abdul Aziz Bin Saud founded Saudi Arabia, although his battle for this kingdom began long before its sovereignty. Before his conquests, Arabia was a “patchwork of tribal rulers”. He fought each one, beginning in 1902, and finally reached his goal of a united, monarchal kingdom on this day in 1932. The Saud family still reigns today.

Aside from the historical significance of this holiday, as I mentioned, it is cause for celebration. I should preface this by saying that I did not attend this year’s outdoor festivities. Despite feeling safe in Saudi, given the nature of what’s happening in other parts of the Middle East right now, I felt it best to skip this event and admire it from the rooftop of my villa, and then learn about it from the mouths of a few friends who have been in country for a while. If I tried to attend, I thought I might combust from hyper-vigilance in a group of so many. That being said, the streets are lined with throngs of people tonight. They are painted bright green from face to foot. Their kids bear the colors of the Saudi flag (mostly green, with a little white). Their cars are also painted with a washable material that turns them to the color of Islamic and territorial unification, not to mention the green wigs atop the heads of more than a few people. They park in the middle of every street, get out of the cars, dance, and yell on behalf of Saudi Arabia. The roads are undeniably packed and at its mecca (pun intended) is a sense of pride for their country. The same pride, I’d imagine, that I feel when my country of origin celebrates its individualism and independence.