Night at the Chalet

When I think of chalets, I generally picture a ski lodge in the alps.  Strangely, it also happens to be what the Saudi's call their summer homes by the beach.  Last night, I was lucky enough to be invited to visit one, by way of an invitation from a teacher friend of mine, who was invited by the friend of a friend of a cousin of a grandson of one of the richest businessmen in Dammam.  Didn't follow the connection?  That's okay, neither did I.  And I had it explained to me about three times over the course of the evening.

Because it is too hot during the day for anything, nothing happens in Saudi until after the sun goes down.  We didn't leave for the chalet until about 9:30pm.  There were 7 of us teachers going, so we piled into two cars, and made our way to the chalet.  Or we started to anyway.  We had just gotten on the highway when we got a call from the other car.  Apparently, the guy who was driving them didn't actually know where he was going and had started in the wrong direction, so we circled back around.  By the time we found them, and got on the correct road, it was already 10pm.  All of us got a little bit turned around looking for the final turn off to the place, but we finally found the correct road.  It seemed for a long time that we were headed straight out into the desert.  Then, out of nowhere, we started passing these elaborate fences with fancy patterns of bricks, and paintings on stucco.  Suddenly on the right there was a huge gate.  When I say huge, I mean that it was at least two stories high.  There was a fancy iron gate with lots of swirls that looked very victorian, and above that there was a very modern looking chandelier. It looked like the gate to a palace or a fancy resort, and as we passed our driver told us that it was just a summer home.  Can you imagine?  Not too much further, we passed another gate, this one decorated with 30 foot giant white tusks on either side with a sign over the gate declaring "Stone Age Village".  Apparently, inside is something of an amusement park ala Fred Flintstone.  We couldn't tell for sure what it was, and even the guy driving it didn't know what was inside, but he was sure you could rent it out for the right price.

We drove a little longer, and turned down another road, this one with no lights and less intimidating fences.  Finally, we arrived.  At least I assumed we had arrived because we pulled up in front of a chain link fence gate that had been covered with dried palm fronds for privacy.  We sat in the car and waited.  Apparently, the person who had the key to the gate had forgotten the key at his house.  Normally, this wouldn't be a problem because the guards have the keys.  Unfortunately for us, the owners had recently changed the locks on the gates and hadn't yet given the guards the new keys.  I was beginning to wonder just how invited we were, and just how tenuous the links were.  None of the other girls seemed concerned and the guys who drove us just shrugged saying, well, that's Saudi. So I shrugged to and said, "Well, it's an adventure." And because it wasn't already exciting enough, and because we were bored waiting, and because we were on a deserted semi-private road, and because when it's forbidden you automatically want to do it all the more, some of the girls decided they wanted to drive.  So they took turns driving up and down this deserted stretch of road, trying to go as fast as they could.  Most of us stood around, jumping out of the way when they came rushing past and cheering them on as they took corners too fast and enjoyed the feel of the wind through their abayas and rubber under their high heels.

Sometime after 11pm, one of the guards must of heard us outside, and came to open the gate.  I guess they had a key afterall.  We were still waiting for the other guys - the ones who actually knew the people who owned the place - to arrive, but they had phoned to say they wanted to stop and bring food.  We all insisted that we appreciated that they wanted to be good hosts, but we really would rather they just got here, since we had to work the next day.  They promised to be there in 20 minutes.  So we went ahead inside without them.  Inside the gates, the road was lined with zoo cages.  There were three dear, two bucks and a doe, and several rabbits.  Next to them there were some dogs in cages whose bark went from angry and frightening to sad whining as we passed, and lounging around on all of the walls were full grown cats the size of biggish kittens.  One cat was clearly nursing, but seemed barely a year old herself.  They were Egyptian looking cats, with extremely short hair and tiny triangular heads that seemed too small for their bodies.

We parked in a large parking area surrounded by buildings on all sides.  There were three garages, A kitchen and rooms for the help, a large bathroom with shower stalls and a foot washing station, an air conditioned glassed in pavillion and off to the right, the grand main house. We were ushered into the pavilion with glass walls.  I'm sure you could have fit my whole house inside of it.  There were six sets of identical couches arranged in two rectangles, one facing a tv, and one facing a buffet table.  On one side was a long serving table with matching chairs, and of course, there were three air conditioning units to keep it all bitterly cold, since outside, even at 11pm, it was still 93 degrees.  We rid ourselves of our abayas, and sat down briefly, but couldn't resist exploring the rest of the grounds for long.

The glass walls revealed a large field of grass and stands of tall palm trees, and another pavilion, this one open air with a thatched roof, built out into the sea.  We made our way across the grass and peered out over the edge.  there was a dock, and a boat, and in the distance, the bridge to Bahrain, but beyond the few feet of light cast by the lanterns hanging in the pavilion, we could see only blackness.  One of the other teachers, who is fond of saying incredible and patently untrue things with a straight face, just to see if you will fall for it, whom I will paradoxically call, "Gullible", was busy trying to convince one of the guys to jump in the water with her.  I thought it was a terrible idea, since the pavilion and dock were built on rocks and concrete and I doubted it was very deep.  It was tempting though, and if I hadn't chosen to were jeans, I might have jumped (gingerly waded) in myself.  Instead, I rolled up my pant legs and made my way out onto a conveniently shaped rock to sit, lean back and stick my feet in.  Of course, it was just when I had gotten comfortable that everyone decided to head back inside.

The rest of the guys had arrived by now, and even though everyone present was over 25, it was as if suddenly everyone had been transported back to the peer pressure and group think of middle school.  The new guys tripled dog dared us to go in the water.  Extra clothes appeared from the trunk of cars, and someone had a towel.  After a sufficient period of chicken calling, excuses, and counter excuses, a few finally agreed to take the plunge.  Wall walked back down to the beach, to witness it, and to keep them from backing out, and after more daring, and some threats to throw people in, Gullible and another girl and two of the guys got in, clothes and all.  I stayed firmly in on shore, walking back and forth in about one foot of water, chasing minnows with Gemma.  We all stood around for a while, jealously watching the others splash about, have races, and dunk each other.  Eventually, the four in the water got bored and came out.  Lucky for them there was a bathroom with shower stalls, so they were able to rinse off.  Then it was just a matter of standing outside for about 30 minutes and the clothes were more or less already dry.

We sat around outside and someone pulled their car around to play some music.  Like a middle school dance, we sat around in segregated groups, the guys showing off ridiculous dance moves they probably thought were spectacular, while the girls cast sheepish glances their way pretending to be too cool to dance.  Someone else brought around a shisha (hookah) and heated some cools for it, while a third guy brought around a tray of cold water bottles for all of us.  One of the guys splashed his cold water on the now nearly dry Gullible, which led to a series of escalating water spilling revenges that lasted more or less the whole night.  Someone found a soccer ball, and before long, the guys had moved two goals in place and we got into teams.  I had worn flipflops so I opted to play barefoot, but one of the girls who I will call "Shorty" braved it in heels and a scandalously short skirt.  The girls were all pretty terrible, and the guys played in circles around us, but it was amazing to feel the grass between my toes and run around getting exercise, and just not be wearing a skirt for once, so I didn't mind.  I even scored two goals!  Which was a huge accomplishment for me even if there happened to be no goalie or defender around either time.

Eventually we were all too tired to keep playing, but now the ice was broken.  Talking was easier, and the shock of being in such an amazing place, had worn off enough that I could forget how lucky I was to be in this place with these people long enough to actually be there in the moment.  I started talking to the guy who was sitting next to me, whose name I can't remember, but he told me it meant "top of the mountain" which I guess is a pretty cool name, but hard to live up to.  I told him I kind of knew what it felt like to have a name with high expectations.  I've always thought my name had a pretty nice ring to it, a name that deserves to be famous, but that I doubt I will be the one to make it famous.  Then I asked him my go to safe question for when I meet new people here in Saudi that I was sure would avoid any of the forbidden controversial topics: I asked him about his siblings.  Turns out, his brother, only a year younger than him, died when he was 17 years old in a car crash.  What are the odds?  Actually, when I think about the way people drive here, I guess pretty good.  So, there I was listening to TOM (top of the mountain), a guy I had only just met, recount that awful night when his brother died, and the months and years afterward.  While everyone around us smoked and danced and had water fights, we were talking about family, death and loss, blame and forgiveness, guilt and anger, and moving on and not letting go.  I was looking at the moon because looking at his eyes made me want to cry, and I thought about how universal grief is, and how much of life is really the same for everyone, and how only the surface of things is different, and I noticed that tonight it seemed like the man in the moon was sad.  I realized that even though his story was sad, terrible even, I wasn't sad.  Not really.  What I was really feeling was wonder, and genuine gratitude.  I was very happy to be sitting there on a beach in Saudi Arabia, sharing a connection with someone who in the light of day, outside the walls of this chalet, I would never have been allowed to talk to.

The spell was broken by the deafening sounds of a quad bike.  One of the other guys, I'll call him "shirtless" because, well, you know, had dragged it out of one of the garages and was driving around the parking lot, drifting and skidding on the sand.  It looked like fun, and one of the other girls, who I will call "Eeyore" because she doesn't ever seem to show any emotion, jumped on the back with him.  I thought he would take it easy with a passenger on his back, but if he did, I couldn't tell.  Eeyore has long blonde hair, and it was flying out behind her the whole time.  He was doing 360s and driving in between palm trees that were barely wide enough and taking her over a little hill so fast they caught air for a few glorious seconds, and I thought to myself, "I'd like to do that.... but I would also like to live...."  So when she got off, and he asked if anyone else wanted a go, I stayed silent.  I didn't see any other hands go up either.

An Arabic song came on in the playlist and we all got up and learned a middle eastern version of the macarena or something that involved linking arms and taking very small steps quickly and some bollywood style hand motions.  I can't say I ever got the hang of it, but it was fun, and indicated we had reached that stage in the awkward adolescent dance party where everyone had forgotten how cool they were trying to be and were just enjoying themselves. Girls forgot that the guys had cooties, and the guys figured out the didn't have to be scared of the girls.  We all danced for a while, and then suddenly, everyone was hungry.  Tom and Shorty and Shirtless volunteered to go get food, and I said I would go with them, and while we sat around deciding where to go and who wanted what, Shorty and Shirtless disappeared somewhere and no one could find them.  Tom said we should go without them, and I spent about 15 minutes trying to recruit some more company for the road trip to the nearest Kudo (a fast food joint in Saudi), but had no takers.  I didn't want him to have to go alone for the food, so I donned my abaya and we went to his car.  I was shocked when I looked at the time and saw it was now 2:24am.  I questioned the wisdom of getting food this late, when we all had to work in the morning and shouldn't we just be getting on home?  He told me none of the guys had to work, they were all on holiday from school, and that I shouldn't worry, we would get the food and bring it back, and after everyone had eaten he was sure we would go home.

So as we drove along he pointed out the different chalets of people of importance as we passed them, and pointed to different compounds that sprung up out here after the city of Dammam decided that all new compounds should be built outside city limits, and then on the right, which was otherwise an empty expanse of sand, there were a series of tiny shacks lit up with christmas lights and plastic patio furniture set up randomly just beyond the reach of the light from the shacks.  I asked him what they were, and without saying anything, he suddenly turned off the road and drove up on the sand to one of the snack shacks.  "You have to try this," he said,  "My road is just down there a little ways, so my dad always used to take us out here to get this when we were kids."  He got out of the car and ordered something from the man in the shack.   I stayed in the car because I wasn't sure what to do.  There were a few other cars parked haphazardly about, and some guys in thobes sitting at one of the tables about 40 feet away, but I didn't see any women.  Then another car pulled up inches from the shack, and I thought, well, that's one way to do drive-thru.  Eventually he came back with two cups of something he called sahleb, which was thick and creamy and vanilla-ey and had crushed pistachios on top, and a container with chick peas and something red on top.  He watched me nervously while I tried both things.  The sahleb was good, and was was very similar to a drink I was fond of in Albania called Salep.  I told him I really liked it, but he wasn't convinced I wasn't just being polite until I finished the whole thing.  Then he seemed to believe me.  The chick peas were topped with something I couldn't' quite identify, but might have been pickled red-peppers and some other spices.  At first, I wasn't really a fan, but the more I ate it the more it grew on me.  I forget what he called it, but I'm sure it's common enough that I will eat it again sometime.

We kept driving for a bit and finally saw a KFC that looked open.  We pulled into the drive-thru and they were clearly getting ready to close, but thankfully, the guy came to the window anyway.  Tom asked if they had any vegetarian stuff because some of the girls were vegetarians.  They did not.  It being after all, a KFC, that wasn't such surprise.   So then he asked for chicken sandwiches, and the guy told him they didn't have any.  So then Tom asked, "What do you have?" and the guy pointed to the chocolate cake on the dessert menu.  Tom asked if there was any chicken, and the guy said, yes, they had sandwiches.  So we ordered eight sandwiches.  The guy came back a few minutes later and said they only had 5 left, but he offered us 2 meals and a popcorn chicken instead.   So we cleaned him out of all the food for the night, and headed off to find a mini-mart to get something for the vegetarians.  There was one right across the street, but the way streets are built here with concrete dividers meant we had to go down about a half a mile and then turn back.  When we finally got there, I wasn't sure if I should get out of the car.  It was so late, and there were no other women... but he made me go in because he didn't know what my friends liked to eat.  I laughed but didn't dare tell him that other than Fozia and Gemma, I really didn't know the other girls at all.  Sure I've seen them in passing a few times in the hallways of our apartments, and maybe taken a bus ride or two with them, but I didn't know them well enough to pick out a veggie meal for them at the equivalent of a 7-11.  I mean, what is there that is healthy at a gas station store?  So I wasn't much help.  Finally we settled for some laughing cow cheese and some saltine crackers.  Best we could do at half past three in the morning.

We returned with the food and Shorty and Shirtless came down from the roof where they had disappeared to for a chat when we left and every one tore into the food like they hadn't eaten in days.  For the first time all night, it was completely quiet except for the sound of chewing, and cat's meowing for scraps.  We were winding down, and fading fast.  With a full belly and heavy eyelids, I started to notice the moon had dropped behind the fence, and the sky was beginning to lighten.  Four of the guys disappeared inside the glass pavilion for morning prayers.  The other two could not because they were wearing shorts, and praying in shorts is Haram. We began gathering up the trash, and looking for phones and head scarves and sorting out who would ride in which car.  By the time we had said our goodbyes, it was light enough that the darkness I had been staring at all night suddenly split into two halves, the sea and the sky.  I could also see for the first time through the trees lining the walls that they were topped with barbed wire, a jarring reminder that I was just borrowing this paradise, and that outside we would be returning to our sheltered prison-like existence.

We weren't quite through with our adventure.  Turns out, running music all night from your car, and periodically letting it run to charge the battery, means you use a lot of gas.  As soon as we got in the car were at the mercy of that blinking gas icon on the dash.  Inshallah (God willing), we would make it to the gas station.  We got to the main road, and saw a station to the right, but when we pulled up, it was closed.  To avoid driving a half a mile out of the way just to turn around, and in true Saudi style, we drove on the wrong side of the road, headed in the wrong direction until we came to a place where we could cut over to the right side of the road.  We drove along, and we passed the little shacks we stopped at hours before to get food, and I was surprised to discover they weren't out randomly in the middle of the desert at all, but in fact were seaside dining areas.  The next service station we came to was the one with the minimarket we had stopped at for vegetarian food, but it was on the opposite side of the street from us.  Instead of going up a mile and a half to turn around like we did, this guy just drove over the median and across three lanes of traffic.  I guess thats kind of why you buy an SUV though, for just such an occasion.  He told us all to cover our heads while the attendant pumped the gas.  Even though technically, it isn't illegal to not have your head covered, you just don't want to take any chances.  Especially when you are three unmarried women in the car with a man whom none of you are related to. So we decided to take the long way home to avoid a checkpoint, just in case.

I dozed off in the back seat on the way home, but woke up in time to catch the sun rising.  It was big and bright, and already hot on my face.  I was tired, and I knew it would be hard to get up for work in just an hour and a half, but it was definitely worth it.  Besides, if I could just make it through my hour of teaching, the couch at work would be all mine for a long nap.  Maybe I will dream I'm in a hammock, strategically stretched between two palm trees facing the sea in a new Saudi where men and women can play soccer together abaya free, without hiding behind walls to do it.