The Private Beach

One thing I have never really gotten over is the sharp divide in Saudi between those who live in compounds and those who don't.  In some ways, the compounds are just like Little Italy, or Chinatown in New York.  Small enclaves of minority populations trying to hold on to a culture and a way of life in a foreign environment.  Only here, they guard this self-impossed social segregation with 20 foot walls, barbed wire, and guard gates with intimidating machine guns.

Once inside though, it is easy to forget all of this.  It's green, it's clean, and everything has a brady bunch kind of feel to it.  From the inside, you forget you are essentially in a high security prison camp.  It's just home.  With it come all of the same mundane suburban issues everyone deals with, only perhaps heightened since there is no escape to a larger community.  I always get the feeling that the proverbial "Jones's" live here and that everyone is always trying to keep up, maybe not so much out of actually desire, as much as boredom.  For example, my aramco buddy and his wife recently joined the Yacht club.  Granted, they did so largely to get access to a private beach, where you can wear a bathing suit and go swimming freely, sans abaya.  Still, the yacht club?

We went to the Yacht club for dinner one night, and it was so strange.  It was like a regular restaurant, only it seemed like everyone knew everyone else, so we ate dinner with another family who had a son about the same age as my friend's daughter.  It was hard to focus on the chatter about different Aramco events, and the yearly "repat" trip (a requirement that Aramco employees must "repatriate" or leave the country for at least 30 days -paid - out of every year), when earlier that day I had been sweating under my Abaya, and cursing my inability to leave the country.  It just felt like two totally different worlds.  My frame of reference was Saudi girls and not having anywhere to go or any way to get there.   The women at the table regularly drove themselves places inside the compound and had cooking classes and book clubs and hardly ever needed to wear the abaya unless they went outside of the compound.  It wasn't like they weren't living in Saudi, because their lives were altered by living here, too, it's just that the way their lives had changed was so different.  They had managed to fall into a tight-nit Martha Stewart like activity, while I had fallen into a world of binge watching old TV series and trying to make English engaging for girls who had such little hope of ever using it.  As depressing as my life felt while I listened to these lives go on around me, I still felt like somehow I had the better deal.  After all, I came to Saudi in part to know what it was like to live in the Middle East, and for me, that means really living it.  Everyday.  Not just on brief trips out of the compound.

A Windsurfing boat (not the Shamal 5) at the Yacht club Private Beach

Which isn't to say I didn't relish every minute of my brief trips onto the compound. The greatest part of the Yacht club for me, was actually the story of how they were able to join.  So, to be a member you first need a boat.  Now, the definition of boat here is pretty loose, so they bought a very used, barely functioning windsurfing board, the Shamal 5, from an expat who was leaving Saudi. I suspect #5 is the only survivor in a long line of experimental vessels that all eventually sunk.  Without having actually seen it though, it's hard to say.  I guess it must be seaworthy because it passed the next step:  to get it registered with the Saudi Coast Guard.  I believe they waited on the paperwork for this for a little over three months.  Not bad.  In fact, somewhat infuriating.  A recreational sea-going vessel get's the go ahead after just 3 months, and a hard working teacher still isn't legal after 8?  Go figure.  I guess, they did have the advantage of the boat already being in Saudi.  Yachts that are bought overseas and brought to Saudi have a whole other process for registration that can take years, not to mention the expense. So this "boat" which is essentially a paddle board with a sail, is enough to qualify you for the waiting list to join the Yacht club.  And if you are lucky, a spot will open up for you.  Some people have been on the waiting list for years.  Luckily, there are different waiting lists for different kinds and sizes of boats and there aren't many people trying to get their ironing boards to count as "boats" and join the club, so they got in right away.

Greetings from the Persian Gulf

Needless to say, joining the Yacht club at Aramco isn't easy.  Only the elite and very patient succeed.  Is it worth all the time and effort?  It was for me.  But then again, I didn't have to do anything.  I just had to show up and enjoy the perks of knowing a member.  I can tell you that swimming in the Persian Gulf (or the Gulf of Arabia) sure felt nice, like a warm bath.  And I couldn't have enjoyed it anywhere else (at least not without wearing my abaya in the water).