The Train to Riyadh

Bobshi was true to his word, and he and his cousin picked me up at 4am and took me to the train station. I asked them to wait for me just in case they didn't let me on the train with just the photocopy. I went to the booth and printed my ticket, but because Bobshi and his cousin were waiting, I didn't bother going to the ticket window to try to change the class. Instead I decided to go ahead through security just to make sure I would make it. The man sent me through without even asking to see my ID, but the real hurdle came after they sent my bag through security, and I was sent through the special security section for woman where she had the wand to scan us and checked IDs. She looked at my passport and then flipped to the second page of the photocopy of my visa. In my head I began chanting, please don't notice the date, please don't notice the date, please don't notice the date, and miraculously, she didn't say anything, but just waved me through. I attributed it to it being early, and her not having her coffee yet. Either way, it was a relief. I called Bobshi and let him know that he could go, I was safely on my way.

I only waited in the waiting room about 10 minutes before we began boarding the train. I was so relieved just to be on the train, that I had forgotten about the first class ticket and just boarded the train at the first door that didn't have a big line in front of it. I found a seat near a plug in case I wanted to charge my tablet and settled in. I pulled out my book, and before long, I was asleep. But not for long, I was woken by the train conductor to check my ticket, which he did, and then moved on. I fell back asleep. Somewhere after the first stop in another town, they checked my ticket again, and I fell back asleep a third time. At the last stop before Riyadh, with maybe an hour left in the journey, they checked tickets again. This time the guy who checked my ticket looked at me confused. He told me I was in the wrong class. This is second class, he said, you should be in first class. I had forgotten when I got on to look for first class. I shrugged, at this point, I was comfortable and didn't much care, but he insisted, he told me to go forward and find the first class carraige. I figured that since I had paid for it afterall, I should at least enjoy the last part of the journey in comfort and style.

So I gathered my bag and began walking through the train cars. I passed two more like the one I was in, and then two more just like it but with only men, and I got a lot of funny looks. I hurried through as fast as I could. The next car was the cafe car, with just men again. After the cafe car was first class. Instead of two chairs on each side, this car had bigger leather seats, two on one side and only one on the other. There were no empty seats in this car, so I started to move on to the next car, but was blocked by the snack cart. I waited in the aisle and felt the eyes of everyone in the car who was awake, staring at me. Finally, the snack guy was finished and let me pass. I went into the next car and found this car also full. There were one or two seats empty, but they were next to men only. I carried on to another car and it was the same way. I weighed my options. It was impossible to sit next to a man, but I also didn't want to have to make my way back through the train to my old seat. I kept going to one more carriage, and again, there were no free seats.

I gave up and made my way back, enduring more akward stares. When I got back to my old seat, it was taken. I sighed. I should have just stayed put. I looked around for the guy who had checked my ticket, and didn't see him, but I did find another empty seat and decided that I should take it while I had the chance. So I settled back into my 150 sar 2nd class seat. Funny that after all the fuss and worry from my Saudi friends about how horrible it would be to take the lower class seats, and all the insistance that I should be in first class, I ended up, happily ignorant in second class. I should have gone on to third class to see if they were right about all the "smellies" in third class.

About 20 minutes later, we arrived in Riyadh and the next adventure began. I know Riyadh is more conservative than Dammam, and since I had a niqab now, I thought perhaps I should wear it, to blend in, and because I might get a better rate on the taxi if they though I was muslim. I went into the bathroom and tied on the niqab, then I walked outside to try to find a taxi driver. The address for the head office in Riyadh was "North Ring Road, between exits 1 & 2". I showed the taxi driver the address and the name of the company, and he told me that he knew the area, but didn't know the company name. At least, I think that is what he was telling me because he was speaking in Arabic. I had already used all of my Arabic just to ask him to take me to the place, so I switched to English. When he saw that I spoke English, he asked me why I was covered. I thought about pointing out to him that for all he knew I was a practicing muslim who just happened to speak English, and it was required by law to have the abaya, and by stigma to have everything else, but then he laughed at me and I just felt stupid. He couldn't help me anyway because he didn't know the place, so I just walked away.

I went back into the train station, went to the bathroom, and took off the niqab.  It seemed to be causing more problems than I thought it solved.  Then I called the number of a taxi one of the other girls had given me. Unfortunately, he knew where the accomodations were for Edex people, but he didn't know where the office was. Frustrated, I went outside again, this time to the other side of the building far away from the first driver I approached. I saw a taxi coming to drop off a woman, and tried to flag him down, but he carried on after he dropped her off. So I crossed the road to another taxi who seemed to be waiting around not doing anything, but he spoke no English and couldn't read the address I gave him, so I turned around to go back again, when the driver I tried to flag down earlier pulled up. He had seen me after all but couldn't stop in the unloading zone because of the police. I asked him and he knew the area and said we would find it. He asked for 40 riyals, I asked him to accept 30. He agreed and we were on our way.

 He was a Pakistani guy who had been in Riyadh for 7 years. He had a wife and two kids at home and went back for a month every year or every other year. He said he stopped because he could sense that I needed him. We talked about working in Saudi, and how we were both trapped by our employers. We comiserated about the bait and switch, about the job advertized being different that what was presented on entry, and about how the visa and iqama stystem held people prisoner, and how the money was just enough to make it seem like it was all worth it. We talked about what we would be doing if we werent here, and what we would do with all the money we were earning, and we talked about all the worst parts of Saudi. We talked so much we got lost. We went between exit 1 and 2 several times. Finally we called the office. He spoke first to someone in Arabic, who recognizing his accent and passed him off to another Pakistani. He described how to get there, and we were off again, and about 10 minutes later we arrived at the office. I handed him 40 riyals after all, since we had gotten lost, and took his number in case I needed him again. Then stepped out of the taxi, took a deep breath, and prepared myself for the mayem I knew I would face inside the office.