First impression is that once you step into the street you belong to ‘us’.
I arrived at the airport in one of those long black robes called an abaya and looking like Darth Vader’s mother-in-law. It hangs next to my hotel door and I am to slip it on every time I step outside.
Stepping outside I have to be accompanied by a male relative.
(But what if you don’t have one available?)
I am not permitted to drive.
(The roads here are paved in testosterone)
I am posting anonymously as I am wary of letting the locals have another piece of me.
It’s against my nature to be anonymous but I don’t want to be deported like the silly woman here who Facebooked herself with a glass of wine in hand. It’s a dry country and that includes the weather.
You will need to know that I am married (let’s call him Wallace, shall we?) We have been in the Arabian region for a few years and Wallace is perched somewhere high in the organisational chart.
This blog is to help separate fact from fiction for all those interested in Riyadh
We will look at customs, business processes, the food and whatever else crops up unexpectedly…as no doubt it will!
I possess a sense of humour and love life’s adventures so be gentle with your comments as it may be possible that I will hit culture shock’s wall