Sunday, September 28, 2014

Leaving Dammam

I was in a weird state of limbo on Sunday.  I didn't really want to stick around, having been fired, but I also didn't want to leave without some guarantee that I had a place to stay or that I would be able to leave the country.  So I waited to hear from Gemma or Suleiman.  Suleiman called first.  He asked me what was happening and I told him I wasn't sure.  He said that I should come to Riyadh, he would give me a place to stay, and then on Monday, I could interview with the college he told me about in Riyadh.  I thanked him, but told him I didn't know how I would get to Riyadh.  I had all my stuff and everything.  He told me he would book a flight for me, but for one thing, I wasn't finished sewing up my suitcase, let alone packing.  For another, a friend of mine was going to Riyadh for work on Monday or Tuesday and had offered to give me a ride.  That would obviously be ideal, for one thing, it would be cheaper, and for another, it would be easier to take all my stuff in a car.

I told Suleiman this plan, and he would have none of it.  It wasn't safe for me to go in this car with a man I didn't really know.  I told him that it was fine, that I did know him, but there is no use arguing with Suleiman once he has made up his mind about something.  I told him I would take the train, but I would have to wait and take the early morning train, since it was the only one that allowed you to bring large luggage.  He didn't like that plan either.  He told me he would book a flight for me.  I told him the train was better because it was cheaper and closer to where I was.  He told me not to worry, that is was all nonsense, and the plane was no problem.  He would buy the ticket and pick me up at the airport.  I told him really, it was no problem for me to take the train, but he insisted, and before I knew it, he had sent me the details for a flight booking at 7pm.  Call me if you have any problems, he told me.

By now, it was already almost 2pm, and it would take at least an hour to get to the airport, and since I had to be there an hour early, I would need to leave in about 2 and a half hours.  The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of packing and calling around to different taxi's.  I was so angry that the cheapest price I could get was 150 riyals.  The train would have cost me 60, and maybe 20 for the cab to the train station.  So this free plane ticket was actually costing me about 70 riyals more than if I had paid for the train myself.

By the time I arrived at the airport I was tired, frustrated, and sad.  I hadn't had the time to say proper goodbyes to anyone, and I had no idea if I would be coming back to see them ever again or not.  It didn't help that the airport was busy, crowded and confusing.  I finally found the correct line to stand in and made my way to the front, but there was a problem.  I still didn't have my passport.  They weren't going to accept my photocopy at first, but after explaining the whole situation, they seemed sympathetic and willing to accept the color copy.  Then we had our second problem, which was that my bag was about 20kg too heavy.   They recommended that I go buy a second bag, because I could have two bags,  only there wasn't a bag shop in the airport and there was now only 20 minutes before my flight boarded and so there really wasn't time.  I took out what I could and added it to the giant sack of groceries that I had, and put more into my backpack, but it was still too heavy.  Even if I paid for an extra bag, it wouldn't work because there was a weight limit that any single bag couldn't exceed.  This was a nightmare. Finally, I called Suleiman.  Of course, he didn't answer right away.  There was a huge line behind me, so they pulled me aside and I waited for Suleiman to call me back.  I called him every five minutes or so for about 15 minutes.

Finally, he called me back.  As usual, there was "no problem."  He told me to give him about 10 minutes and he would call some guy he knew at the airline.  So I waited some more.  By now, the flight was already boarding and I was thinking about what I would do if I couldn't get on this flight.  I had gotten all the way up to a plan 'D' before Suleiman called me back.  He said that any minute I should be given the go ahead.  Sure enough, about 2 minutes later, they took my bag and handed me my boarding pass.  I rushed to the gate, with a really heavy backpack, my mini-guitar and a huge shopping bag with what felt like 10 pounds of stuff from my other bag.  I was sure they would never let me take three carry ons, especially because they were so large and heavy, but I figured I would deal with that problem as it happened.

I arrived just in time to get on the plane.  I did have to give my backpack to them to put under the plane, which I normally would have been ok with, except, I happened to have six months worth of salary in the bag, since I still didn't have a Saudi bank account (you need an iqama for that) and so had been taking my pay in cash.  There was no time for me to take the money out, and to be honest, I didn't really want to pull out a fat wad of bills in front of the airport people and other passengers anyway, so I decided to just hope for the best.  The plane ride itself was only about 45 minutes long, and I was in a mild state of panic for every one of those minutes.  But eventually we did land, and after taking ages for our bags to come up on the carousel, I did get all of my bags and the money was still safe and sound where I had left it.

I called Suleiman to let him know I had arrived, and sure enough he and his driver were there to pick me up.   They drove me to a place called the 24karat Hotel Apartments, which happened to be owned by a friend of his and were also only a few blocks from his house.  He made sure everything was ok and that I had everything I needed, and then he told me he would be by in the morning to bring me breakfast and coffee.  I thanked him and said goodnight.

The place was small, but sufficient with a combined living room / kitchen and separate bedroom much like my old place in Dammam.  The only difference being that the bedroom walls were pink on two sides and purple on  the other two.  The bedding was white, with a fancy gold embroidered slip across the foot of the bed.  There was even a cute little travel case for toiletries, also gold.  Not bad.  Exhausted, I went to bed.  I didn't even bother to try to make sense of the mess of a packing job I'd had to do at the airport. After all, who knew how long I would be in this place anyway.


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