A for Airport

Smell that? That’s the scent of anxiety coming from all these people waiting for their flights to be called. Okay, maybe it’s just me. You can’t blame me – in a few hours I’ll be touching down on my home base in the Philippines after exactly 2 years, 2 months and 24 days of working here in Riyadh. I’ve always loved airports. When I’m in one, I can always sense the feel of adventure that comes with the standing in line, checking in, getting a boarding pass, having the passport stamped, and waiting for the airline’s call for boarding. Perhaps, the only thing I don’t like, because of the slight inconvenience, is having to do the pseudo-striptease every time I go through the x-ray machines where it is required to take off your watch, belt, jacket, or any other article of clothing with metals on them, in addition to surrendering your mobile phones, cameras, and the like. We’re flying economy, and therefore, do not have the privilege of lounging in the.. well, lounges, and as I scan the waiting area full of thobe-clad Arab men, women in abayas, and the mass of iPhones, iPads, Samsung Galaxys, Motorola Xooms, Macbooks, multi-branded laptops and other electronic devices relative to them, on the hands of the men and women in business-looking attires (this is a Dubai-bound flight after all), I am overwhelmed with feelings of excitement, and yes, I admit anxiety. Not because I’m waiting for our flight number to be called, but because I might be arriving home at a slightly wrong timing. I have been informed by my mother that they are currently experiencing typhoon signal # 2 back home, and might not be able to make it to Manila in time for the surprise summer getaway I planned for them.

“Please Lord, let everything happen as I planned. I already paid for those non-rebookable, non-refundable tickets. Please. :)”

I’m listening to this to keep me a bit distracted:

Well, I’ll leave you to it. See you in Manila.

Saudi’s Day of Rage – a tsunami in the desert?

There are rumors that the authorities implemented a 7:30pm curfew in the eastern provinces of Al Khobar and Dammam. For now, I know no one who can confirm or contradict this hearsay. But apparently, the much talked about 9:30pm curfew here in Riyadh  is not true. It is now  a few minutes before midnight, and I am still at this café - sitting al fresco, ignoring the sandstorm, unaffected by the glaring red and blue lights from the nearby police car, and amusing myself as three police officers interrogate the driver of a white van a few meters away. I can’t blame you, officers..the vehicle does look like something one would use as a runaway car for a kidnap-for-ransom activity – what, with the heavily tinted driver-side windows and painted rear doors and all?

“What time will you be closing today?” I asked one of the café crew.
“2 am, Sir. As usual.” came the prompt reply.

I further asked if they have heard of any curfews and he sheepishly replied he would have been happier with a curfew imposed as it would mean they would be ordered off from work and go home earlier.

As I sip on my mint juice (no need for a caffeine fix today), I can’t help but wonder whether indeed somewhere within various parts of this city, some thobe- and shimagh-clad Saudi activists are busy strategizing their plan to stage a protest; coordinating with other like-minded countrymen all across the Kingdom, pinpointing locations to serve as focal points, organizing tactics on how to avoid being cornered by the police and.. umm, designing placards and banners? I don’t know how they do it here, or if they ever will, because the closest I have ever been to witnessing such an activity was within the walls of a friend’s home in front of a wide flat screen TV. Suddenly, I had a mental image of huddled men in white, fists clenched and raised above their heads, shouting chants familiar to my ears yet remaining undecoded by my mediocre Arabic-to-English translation skills.

It is past midnight now and my watch says it’s 12:27. Today is March 11th, the rumored Day of Rage, when Saudis are supposedly expected to take on the streets to publicly and openly demand for various changes from the ruling monarchy and government. Having lived here for only 2 years, a relatively short time to judge whether or not the Saudis have it in them to go against the norms of their very conservative and regulated society, there’s a bigger part of me that feels confident that the Kingdom will not follow their neighboring countries in terms of violence in their protests. But then again, who am I to say? Still, I refuse to feel fear for my life the way other Filipinos (and other expats) felt when they had to leave their homes and work places because their host countries had social unrest and became politically unstable. There’s still reason to believe that the Saudi people, peace-loving as they claim to be and full of efforts to prove that they are falsely stereotyped in many ways, will stage their demonstrations diplomatically, should they ever decide to push through with this. On the other hand, having observed the streets to be oddly  less rowdy since this morning considering it’s a weekend, makes me feel like I’m about to witness the onslaught of a powerful tsunami; the way the waters suddenly turn quiet as the giant wave builds up strength so it can later on wash over the shores with as much rage it can muster. I try to ward off any thoughts of its implications to foreigners like me.

In a few hours, I should be able to answer some questions currently bothering me: Will the protests push through? Will the success or failure of today’s expected protests determine whether or not the so-called March 20 Saudi Revolution would take place? Am I to believe the media’s take on this issue compared to what I can see and hear first-hand? Do I need to head off to the nearest 24-hour grocery store to fill our shelves with food and supplies like what I have been told or is it a ridiculously exaggerated thing to do? Should I start packing my bags in the anticipation of being sent home?

For the first time in days, I feel exhausted and droopy. Every time I open my eyes from sleep, what happens within the day is usually decided only by whether it’s a work day or a weekend. It’s not everyday that I wonder what this city has for me when I wake up. Today will be one of those days.

For the love of country… err, Jollibee

I’m not one of those who have an inner dilemma of loyalty between McDonald’s and Jollibee (or any other competing fast food chain for that matter). I just eat whatever I have a craving for. So when I heard the news about a newly opened Jollibee (the only one there is in Riyadh so far) in Batha, I automatically made a mental note to pay it a visit. I was in it for getting a taste of home; I imagined myself biting into a Chickenjoy that would transport me via Nostalgia Express into a familiar place that I had known since childhood.

We decided to go on the 2nd day after the opening. The 20-minute drive to the place was the easy part. When we reached Jollibee, the ground floor of the building housing the store was packed with Filipinos waiting to enter the restaurant. There were families with their kids excited to see the happy bee in red, white and yellow. And since all establishments here in Saudi Arabia are divided into the bachelors and family sections, we all had to wait as the guard alternately called for people from both sections to come in.

When we finally managed to squeeze ourselves in to the dining area, I thought I was just minutes away from munching on Pinoy-style crispy chicken. Boy, was I wrong! I stood in line for almost 2 hours.

    

I was doing OK when I took my pick from one of the 2 queues to the cashier at around 8pm, but by time it was finally my turn to order at the counter by 10pm (I’m not kidding), I heaved a big sigh of relief and just blurted out what my grumbling stomach commanded me to.

Some Riyals and 20 minutes of homeward driving later, this is what we feasted on at the dinner table. What we stood 2 hours in line for was gone in less than 10 minutes. It was definitely all worth it.

       

                     

This really isn’t about patronizing a particular brand. It is more about getting the feel of home in a foreign land. And wow, it rhymes, too!