The Date Farm

Adventures are like Lays potato chips, you can't have just one.  So when I was presented with the choice of staying in this weekend and finally finishing the last season of Lost or going to a date farm, I chose the date farm.  This date farm was owned by the family of one of the boys who had been at the Chalet.  It was in Al Ahsa, about two hours away, which was too far to drive in one evening, so we would have to stay the night in the guesthouse, which had a pool, and they promised we would be home around 10 in the morning the next day.  They had me at pool.  There is something about 110 degree days and miles of sand in every direction that makes the prospect of a cool blue swim irresistible.

We were told to be ready to go around 7pm, which meant that the guys finally turned up around 8.  We took two cars, and Gemma and Fozia were in one car, which left me and Blondie in the second car.  I haven't spent much time with Blondie since we work at different schools, and even after spending a whole weekend with her, I can't say I know her any better.  She spent the entire 2 hour drive to Al Ahsa on her phone.  Well, I guess I shouldn't say the entire time.  The first thing she did when she got in the car was ask if we could stop and get her some food.  The guy driving explained that they were planning to cook a traditional meal for us when we arrived.  She told him she couldn't have any of it.  She was on a diet and had to have a grilled chicken sandwich from a fast food place with nothing on it and an apple.  That was all she could have.  He said that the food they would cook is very healthy, they would make chicken, but she insisted.  She is on this diet where she takes pregnancy hormones that make you think you are pregnant, and somehow resets your metabolism so your body flushes out all the fat.  It doesn't really make any sense to me, since, my understanding is that your body wants to eat more when it is pregnant (or thinks you are pregnant) and it seems like most of the weight loss is coming from only eating one egg, two apples, and a grilled chicken breast every day, but what do I know.  I thought that it was really rude of her to make dietary demands when we were guests, and that if she was that worried about eating the right things, she should have brought food with her.  I tried to make it up to the driver by saying that I would eat anything, and that I was very excited to eat traditional Saudi food.  He seemed pleased that at least someone was interested in the food, and promised Blondie we would stop and buy her a chicken sandwich when we reached Al Ahsa.

Not long after we left Dammam, Blondie had another request.  She needed cigarettes.  So we pulled into a service station and one of the guys got out to buy her a pack.  She showed him the pack so he would know to get the right kind, but didn't offer to give him any money.  The guy went inside and came back a little later with a pack of cigarettes.  She barely even glanced up from her phone to say thank you.  When she did finally look at him, it was to tell him that he had gotten the wrong kind.  It was the right brand, but it wasn't menthol.  So, the guy went back to try to exchange it for her.  As soon as he got out of the car she started trash talking him, "What an idiot, that's why I showed him the pack."  I was shocked at how rude she was.  I tried to defend him, pointing out that it was pretty dark in the car and hard to see.  The other guy pointed out that he also didn't smoke, so wouldn't be familiar with the brands.  When he returned, he had a different brand, but mentholated, because they didn't have the menthol in her brand.  She rolled her eyes and took the pack.  I watched the guys reactions, but they seemed as unaware of her rudeness as she was.  I was happy to let her occupy her private phone world alone and was glad when they turned the music up so loud I couldn't even hear myself think.  I watched as we sped past truck after truck, each one lined with lights along the edges to help other drivers see their size and shape in the dark.  It reminded me of Christmas lights.

When we got to the town, they reminded us to cover up.  Al Ahsa was not as relaxed as Dammam. I had had my headscarf on the whole time, but Blondie dug around for hers and put it on haphazardly, annoyed.  We stopped in front of a Kudo (the Arabic equivalent of McDonalds) and she told the guy to make sure it was grilled with nothing on it.  Plain, she said,  grilled, not fried.  She turned to the driver, "Does he understand grilled? Make sure he knows it has to be plain."  Granted, the guy in the passenger seat had been quieter than the other one, but he clearly spoke English just as well, (and later, I discovered, somewhat better) than the driver.  I couldn't believe how insulting she was being to someone who was doing her a favor.  Again, she didn't offer him any money, and he went off to order her sandwich.  It took a long time.  Probably because of all of the special instructions, and she spent the time muttering under her breath that for God sake he better come back with the right thing.  I suggested we turn the music back up, I didn't want the driver to over hear her being so rude and unappreciative.  When he got back, she didn't even bother to check if he had gotten the right thing, and I was a little relieved, I didn't want to be around for the tongue lashing she would give him if it wasn't right.  I can only hope that she was this rude because anyone would be if they were eating only 500 calories a day, and not because this is actually how she is.

Date Palms at Night

Al Ahsa seemed greener than Dammam to me, with more palm trees, but it's hard to say at night.   We drove past the National Center for Date Research, and one of the guys told us that the government or one of the largest date producers, or someone, was offering a prize for people who could come up with new uses for dates. I can only suppose that these forward thinking researchers realize that if the oil ever runs out, dates are more or less the only thing Saudi has going for it in terms of exports.

The Indoor Tent

Before long, we were passing fields of dates on both sides of the highway.  Not long after that, we pulled into a gate and were suddenly inside a jungle of palm trees.  We drove a little longer, and arrived at a giant indoor tent next to a fish pond.  We had arrived!  When we first got out of the car, it smelled fishy, but it didn't take long for our noses to adjust and I didn't notice it too much after the first few minutes.  The tent was larger than three of my apartments put together and had about 12 couches and as many rugs.  It was huge.  The air conditioning was off though because it had been a last minute decision to come here, and the guy whose family owned it hadn't given the workers enough notice to prepare the place properly.  We walked around the pond, and looked for fish, but all we could see were minnows.  Then we walked along the streets through the groves of date palms to the guest house.

The Swimming Pool

The pool was on the roof, and below it were a lot of date palms, and another pond, this on with little foot bridges across it.  It all seemed idyllic and perfect under the full moon.

Sitting outside by the Fish Pond

By the time we returned from our walking tour of the farm, there were benches and cushions set up outside the tent with a set of surround sound speakers playing.  Soon there was dancing, and someone brought out badminton rackets, and someone else was heating coals for a Shisha.  In moments like these, you sort of forget that you are still in Saudi Arabia.  After about two hours, a few more guys showed up, thankfully with the groceries we would need to cook the traditional food.  Even though midnight seemed to me like an odd time to start dinner, no one else seemed to find it strange.  And since I had made such a big show in the car of being interested in the food, they invited me to help cook.

The kitchen was a separate building off to the side made of stucco on the outside, and completely stainless steel on the inside.  There were two huge refrigerators, a six range stove top, two ovens and all the counter space you could want.   I was given the job of cutting up tomatoes and peppers, but was soon relieved of my duties when I was deemed to be slicing them too thinly.  They were only interested in large chunks.  They basically cut the tomatoes and peppers in quarters and called it good.  Meanwhile, the other guys washed six chickens and rinsed out the largest pot I had ever seen.  It took two guys to hold it under the running water in the sink.  Into this pot they dumped a whole 2kg bag of rice.  I commented sarcastically that it didn't seem like it would be enough for the dozen or so of us that were hanging around that night, give or take a few girls on diets.  Apparently my sarcasm is just as lost on Saudis as it is on Britts because they began to look for

Ready to cook

another bag of rice to add, before I stopped them to explain I had only been joking, and that in fact it seemed like far too much rice.  But they insisted that we needed at least that much rice.  Into the pot with the rice and water went the tomatoes and peppers, dried lemons, and whole cloves of garlic.  They didn't even bother to peel it or separate it, just tossed it in whole.  Next they threw in four whole sticks of butter, which, thankfully, they did bother to unwrap, and then they added about a handful each of salt and pepper. This was going to be good.

Preparing the Pit for cooking

We piled into someone's mini, with the rice pot in the front seat, and the chickens in a pan on my lap in the backseat.  It wasn't far, but the pots were heavy, and no one wanted to carry them.  After a short fast trip, that I wouldn't have minded being slower and longer since there was no way the water didn't slosh out of the rice pan a little and I was sure the chickens would fly out of the pan as we were rounding a corner, we arrived. There was a pit built into a platform, and into the pit we threw piles of palm fronds until we had a great big bon fire going.  Someone brought over these giant hooks and we began skewering the chickens with them.  Finally, the flames died down and we were left with a stack of red hot coals in the bottom.  Then the guys used long metal poles to lower the pot into the hole.  Then across the top they laid a cross beam, where we hung the chickens.  Then they covered the hole with a metal cap.  Then they covered the metal cap with wet blankets.  Then on top of that they placed large cinder blocks.  Then we left and let it cook.

Adding the food to the pit and sealing it for cooking

Driving back we sat in the back hatch with our legs dangling inches from the ground.  Saudi's don't believe in going anywhere slowly, unless of course, they are walking, so I was holding on for dear life, but I was expecting forward motion and I wasn't ready when suddenly the driver slammed on the breaks.  Other than my heart skipping a few beats, I was fine.  We had pulled up short because they guys in the front decided to show me the deer.  We jumped down in front of a fenced in area with a tiny pond, and inside were a half dozen deer.  Unfortunately, I'm no stranger to deer given that a herd of them has decided to make my yard back in Virginia their permanent grazing area. Since I wasn't sufficiently impressed by the deer, the guys decided to dare each other to climb the fence. It was one of those times when you question the connection between age and maturity.  I got the distinct feeling that these guys must have missed out on the typical teenage years where everyone expected you to do stupid things because in true teenage boy style, they declared we would all go over the fence or none of us would.  I protested, pulling the girl card, but having already proven myself by beating all of them at badminton (not really that impressive when you find out none of them had played before), they insisted, and since I was there guest... when you can't beat them, join them. Besides, there was something about being abaya-less that made me feel carefree and young.  The two biggest guys were elected to help me and the smallest guy get over first and then follow us.  We should have known better.  As soon as I got over, and the other guy had his leg halfway over the fence, they took off running.  Figures.  I was just starting to climb back over on my own when the part of the fence the other guy was on started to collapse.  I started to get down to help him, but my pants got stuck on the fence and by the time I unhooked it, he was already down.  Luckily, the fence was easy enough to fix and there was no lasting damage, other than a small scrape on his hand.  We climbed back over near the corner where the fence was stronger.   Then tracked down the two chickens who had left us behind so we could inflict insults of cowardice on them for the rest of the evening.  They had discovered what looked to me like a large golf cart and were busy trying to start it without the key.  Luckily, they were never successful, and soon gave up when they realized we had effectively wasted an hour, and it was time to go back and check on the food.

It's finally done!

Carrying the Rice

We came back to the pit and uncovered the hole.  They pulled up a chicken and tested it.  It was perfect.  They insisted on handing me a wing and the meat literally fell of the bones.  It was moist and smoky and probably the most flavorful chicken I've ever had in my life, which is saying a lot for a chicken that had no spices on it whatsoever.  Next they used the long poles to pull up the pot of rice.  One guy reached in and threw a handful of rice into his mouth to check if it was done, and declared it satisfactorily cooked as well.  They carried the rice pot all the way back to the kitchen using the long poles because it was too hot to carry.  We spread the rice onto three huge trays and topped each one with two of the chickens.  There was so much food.  We carried it over to the indoor tent and set it on the rugs.  Everyone gathered and dug in traditional style, sans silverware. Having all my life prefered eating with my hands to wrestling with a knife and fork, I was surprised to learn that there is a real art to eating with your hands.

Eating Saudi Style

 They taught me to use the edge of the tray to scoop a small chunk into my hand and then work the rice into a ball and drop it into my mouth, all with one hand.  Sound hard? It is.  The guys to my left and right barely dropped a single grain of rice.  The spot where I sat was littered with it.  Even though we sat and ate for over an hour, we barely made a dent in the food at all.  It was so good, I never wanted to stop eating, but my belly was entering that post Thanksgiving meal state, so I gave up and went to lay down on one of the 14 couches in the tent.

I must have dozed off because I woke up later to find everyone playing a game of truth or dare.  Truth or Dare?  Really?  How old are we?  I suggested a game of Mafia (a game of guessing who the randomly selected "killers" are, that involves keeping your eyes closed during the selection of victims).  Everyone said they were willing to give it a try, but when it came to actually playing, no one would keep their eyes shut.   It was like herding cats.  Eventually we managed to play a whole game, though it was a struggle, and they seemed to really like it.  I decided to give up my role as narrator / cat wrangler, and let one of the guys who had been the worst offender at peeking have a go at it.  It was vindicating to see him struggle with uncooperative players and finally give up in frustration when no one would listen.  By this time, we were all ready to throw in the towel, so we made our way over to the guest house to call it a night, or rather, an early morning.

The guesthouse had about half a dozen bedrooms, but none of the beds had been made up, since no one knew in advance we were coming. There was a lot of confusion while blankets and pillows were sorted out.  I was planning on bunking with Gemma, but while we were brushing our teeth, one of the guys found our room, and thinking it was empty, he laid down on one of the twin beds.  We decided not to wake him up, and briefly contemplated sleeping out in the grass under the stars, but then realized there wouldn't be stars for long and we would soon be hot under the morning sun. Instead we chose a living room with six couches.  We each took one and started settling in.  As soon as we had turned out the light, the room was invaded by guys, who insisted that we were guests and needed beds, and we would be insulting their honor if we slept on these very comfortable couches, so we all went back to the room we had been in and they yelled loudly at the poor fool who had dared to fall asleep on our beds until he sheepishly left, and we settled down to sleep for the second time. This time we were left in peace. To be honest, I would have preferred the couch.  The beds had new mattresses that were very firm and still had the plastic on them so that they crinkled every time you moved.   You would think that I would have been so exhausted that I would have fallen asleep right away, but Gemma and I stayed up for a while tossing and turning and trying to drown out the laughter and chatting we could hear down the hall.  Apparently, none of the guys were sleepy yet.

Footpaths over the Pond

Eventually I must have slept because when I woke up there was sunlight coming in through the heavily curtained windows.  I got up and snuck out of the room with my camera.  I wanted to get some pictures before it was too hot to be walking around.  It was a beautiful day and if I had brought my tennis shoes I would have gone jogging up and down the rows of date palms.  Everything looked different by daylight, but still very impressive.

Fishpond and Indoor Tent

I wasn't out long before I was ready to come back in.  I was sure it was already 90 degrees outside and when I checked my clock it was only 8:30am.  I decided to go in and go back to bed.  I reached the guesthouse door at the same time a few of the guys were pulling up in the car with breakfast.  We had pastries stuffed with hot dog, cheese and zatar (a greenish spice).  After breakfast, we decided we couldn't wait for everyone else to wake up, and decided to go swimming without them.

The Pool on the Roof

I have never been so happy to jump into a pool in my life.  The water was cool but not cold, and even though it wasn't that big, I swam laps just to feel water that wasn't salty rushing past my face.  The guys stayed in with me for 45 minutes or so, then decided to go in.  I stayed another 15 minutes because I just couldn't bear getting out.  Finally, I was sufficiently pruned, and starting to feel the sun on my skin, so I went in and showered, and was just getting ready to sneak back into bed, when Gemma woke up.  So I went with her to help her find what was left of  breakfast.  Then she wanted to go to the pool, and since she didn't want to go alone, I went up with her.  I kept my long pants and shirt on and used my towel to cover my face and arms to keep from burning.  As good as relaxing next to the pool in a beach chair felt, the sound of splashing and the heat of the sun was too much for me.  I decided to get back in.  So I went back to put on my bathing suit and borrowed some sunscreen from Gemma.  By the time I got back, Fozia and two of the guys had woken up and joined us in the pool.  I don't know how long we were out there, but it was long enough for me to apply sunscreen 3 more times, and still get a little burnt on my nose and shoulders.

When I had finished showering for the second time it was 3pm.  So much for getting home at 10.  We were getting a little hungry and needed more water, so a few of the guys went out to the store.  Blondie woke up while they were gone and wanted another apple for her diet, so we called the guys, who, by now, were on their way back, and made them turn around and go back to the store for her.  I feel asleep again on one of the couches before lunch ever arrived and woke up just as the sun was starting its slow decline.  It was time to leave paradise.

Sunset on the Date Farm

We gathered all of our stuff and began making our way to the cars.  Of course, before we left, we had to take a few more photos, then we had to see the deer, and the ducks, and the chickens, and then we had to see the dates one more time, and finally, after driving around the farm at least twice, we drove out the gate and back into Al Ahsa.  We had to change cars and meet up with the guy who brought us, who had left earlier to visit his mother, but was planning on meeting us at his cousins house to pick us up and drive us back.  We parked in front of a gated apartment building and waited.  While we waited, the cousin went into his house.  We waited some more, and then his sister-in-law drove up with his nephew and so he came back out to talk with them, and then, gasp, his father came out to meet them too, and we all had to duck down in the seats so his dad wouldn't see that there was anyone in the car, and for about 15 minutes we were all trying to hold our breath and hoping we wouldn't get any of them in trouble.  Luckily, they all went inside none the wiser.  About a half hour later, we were finally on the road again, but not out of the woods yet.  On the way home we passed a road block.  We covered our heads with our scarfs, and drove on through with no problem, but it was scary none the less.  I'm not sure exactly what would happen if we were caught, but I'm sure it wouldn't be good.

By the time we said our goodbyes and made our way to our apartments on the fourth floor, it was 10pm. So, I guess they got us home on time after all, give or take 12 hours.  I don't mind.  It was way better than the last season of Lost.

Week of Fun

Our reminder email for the week

All this week, we are proctoring exams.  This basically means that for two to three hours everyday we go and help an Arabic teacher make sure the students aren't cheating.   Other than that, we have nothing to do.  To alleviate boredom, and to help fend off the impending cattiness that inevitably ensues when you leave 30 women in a room together with nothing to do but gossip, a few of the teachers decided to have a week of themed events.  The schedule included Salad Sunday, Motivational Monday, Taco Tuesday, Workout Wednesday, and Thirsty Thursday.

On Salad Sunday, we were all supposed to bring various salad supplies so that we could have a big salad bar. I opted to bring red cabbage since I already had it in my fridge and wouldn't need to buy anything special since I'm still on a budget.  The trouble is, Sunday is our Monday, and after a long weekend, I forgot all about Salad Sunday.  I felt really bad.  But not bad enough not to enjoy the salad bar anyway.  It was delicious!

On Monday, we were all encouraged to put up our favorite motivational quotes around the office.  It's really interesting what people come up with as their favorite quotes.  I've put together some of my personal favorites from the office in this collage for you.

Some of our favorite quotes

On Tuesday, we had tacos, and even though it is slightly unconventional, my contribution was the shredded cabbage that I forgot to bring on Monday.  If nothing else, it added a bit of color to the meal.  Some of the ladies had never had tacos before, and it was amusing to watch some of the Saudi Women attempting to cut apart their tacos with knives.  Don't worry, we schooled them in the proper method of devouring tacos.  Much hot sauce was consumed, and everyone laid around the rest of the day feeling too full to do anything.  I took a nap outside and nearly missed the bus home.

I was most looking forward to Wednesday.  I have been somewhat successful at doing Yoga every morning, and thanks to my lack of funds, I have been eating less.  I think that I have shed a pound of two, but with no scale, it's hard to say.  I had wanted to go jogging around our outdoor area with some of the other girls, and even brought my tennis shoes once or twice, but it just kept working out that I was teaching when they were free, or they were teaching when I was free, so instead of pushing myself to do it on my own, I had just given up.  Having a group workout sounded like a wonderful excuse to get me going.  At first we had planned on going to another room to do the workouts, but it turned out that there was a man in the hallway, so we had to stay put, or put on our abayas and hijabs just to walk to another room down the hall.  We opted to do our best in the tiny hallway.  We did a few warm up stretches, then we did squats.  We did 3 sets of 20, and one set of 15.  I know that doesn't seem like much, and at the time, it seemed like no big deal.  But then we decided to run up and down the stairs (3 stories) three times.  By the end of it, my thighs felt like jello.  I was barely able to do our cool down, the electric slide.  Now, if you have never seen 20 women trying to do the electric slide in a 4x15 foot hallway, with no one who actually remembered how, I highly recommend it.  It was so hilarious, I forgot all about my aching legs.  At least until I got home that night.  Getting up and down from the  couch was torture.  Going up and down stairs was worse.  I was glad I only had one day of work left so I could sit in my room and recover the rest of the weekend.

On Thursday, different people signed up to bring different drinks so that each hour, we had a small sample of each different type of drink.  I was able to have the first drink at 8am, hot chocolate with marshmallows, yum!  Unfortunately, I had to proctor an exam at 9am, so I had to miss out on the 9 am and 10 am drinks.  I was pacing up and down the back of the room, trying to think how I was going to make it through standing for the next two hours on my soar legs, when there was a knock at the door.  Low and behold, one of the teachers was going around bringing the drinks to the teachers who had to proctor.  It was so sweet!  I was so grateful.  On top of that, it just so happened to be my new favorite drink, lemonade with mint!  There were several interesting drinks the rest of the day, including carrot juice, hibiscus juice, a gross spinach and cucumber thing called green goo, and something that tasted like black jelly beans (maybe it was fennel?).  Our final drink of the day was supposed to be mock-tails (virgin strawberry daiquiris and pinacolodas) but the ice had melted and the blender gave out earlier, so we just had extremely thick mix.  It was a disappointing, yet sugar filled end to a whole day of crazy flavors.

At the end of the day, we all also received certificates of participation in the week of work fun.  It was fun.  And I now have a pink certificate that tells me my efforts were "admirable" to prove it.

Khobar Traditional Village

For lunch on Friday, (our Saturday), I went with my Peace Corps friend and his family to the Khobar Traditional Village, a restaurant which boasts having won the award for best Saudi Arabian food in Saudi Arabia three years running.  We were excited to go, but as with most things here, we needed to carefully plan around prayer times.  Luckily, the phones here come pre-installed with a kind of islamic app tool.  This tells you the date in the lunar calendar,  prayer times each day, and  help you locate the nearest mosque, and probably a dozen other useful features. We tried to time it so prayer time would be just ending when we arrived, or course, traffic and life in general get in the way, so when we arrived there was still a few minutes of prayer time left.  While we waited we examined the decor of the outer part of the restaurant.  In front, they had sculptures of the two crossed swords famous from the Saudi flag that you could walk under as a sort of entrance way.  Also flanking the sides of the restaurant were two older cars, cemented into the ground.  Apparently, the owner of the restaurant really had a thing for collecting old cars. I know you all want to know what kind of cars they were, but the best I can do is that one was blue and the other was red.  I'm not good at identifying make and model, and I had intended on relying on my camera to just post a picture of them.  Unfortunately, even though I was smart enough to have brought my camera, I was not smart enough to make sure the battery was charged before I left.

 Like all restaurants, there were two sections, the men only section, and the family seating area.  But this restaurant had a third section, a separate building with stairs that led to a door marked "Grooms Area Only."  I wondered if perhaps there was a similar door somewhere for the brides, and if this was a popular place to have a wedding feast.  We sat outside for a while waiting for the doors to re-open with a few other families, mostly Saudi.  Finally, someone came out of the Exit only door, and several people rushed inside, so we followed suit.  We made our way through a room with a large glass table case full of what were probably very interesting objects, most of which seemed like old swords and Bedouin objects, but at least one seemed like it might have been a rollerskate.  I didn't want to stop to look, because I was following my friends wife, and from the back in an abaya, every woman looks the same, so it would be easy to get lost.  This has often been a concern of mine.  I remember getting lost as a child, and the first thing anyone asks you is, "What was your mom wearing, sweetie?"  If a child is lost here, what do they do?  How do they find their mother in a sea of mothers all dressed in black with nothing visible but the eyes?  I guess that's why everyone pays so much attention to purses and shoes and bracelets. 

Thankfully, I needn't have worried about that here, even though it was crowded.  My friend is very tall, and carrying a blond haired blue eyed baby makes you even more conspicuous in a crowd of Saudi families.  As we entered the main lobby, we were handed a number, in Arabic, which none of us knew how to read.  We tried to stand out of the way, but as always seems to happen when you are trying hard not to be in the way, everywhere we stood seemed to be the exact place someone else needed to get through on their way to somewhere else.   We landed on the stairs, against the railing and took a moment to soak in the surroundings.  The walls were painted in geometric patterns of bright reds, greens and yellows, there were pictures of men eating here, perhaps famous Saudi men, lining the wall of the staircase, and every 10 feet or so there were old looking lanterns on the wall.  There were benches with elaborate pillows all of different designs, and everywhere families in black and white, with splashes of red and white on the men's keffiyahs and children in every color  We were all waiting for prayer to finish, and for rooms to be cleared so we could be seated..

Eventually, someone began calling out numbers, and not knowing either what our number was, or how it would be pronounced when it was called, we waited.  I kept an eye on the man who had come in just before us, figuring that at least we would know we were sometime after him.  Time passed and, people went up and down the stairs, more numbers were called, and then a man coming down the stairs noticed the baby, and seemed very pleased and excited. He shook my friends hand, and touched the baby's arm and cooed at her and then told us to run up and take the room at the top of the stairs, we tried to show him our number, but he rushed us up the stairs conspiritorily and told us to go in room number 20.  I speculated if he was just a patron who had wanted us to have the room he and his family had just vacated, or if he was some kind of manager, or restaurant employee taking pity on us.  I suppose we will never know.

We entered room number 20, which was beautiful. There were rugs lining every inch of the floor and pillows lining the walls. Every five feet or so were box shapes draped with more pillows that acted like arm rests of a couch.  The walls themselves were painted to resemble stucco falling away to reveal the underlining brick.  There were several windows, each one decorated like stained glass with images of cups, and teapots, and knives.  There were several tapestries with large tassels that they baby enjoyed playing with, and in between the tapestries were pictures of Dammam in the 1960s and 70s.  Other than changes in the car styles, Dammam looked remarkably the same.   In the ceiling there were small lights whose shades looked remarkably like upside down shot glasses - a useful repurposing since alcohol is illegal here. The piece de resistance was a chandelier in the center shaped like a train, complete with old rollerblade wheels as train wheels, and flashing red and blue lights at the front of the train near the headlights. And just underneath the train light, In the center of it all, on the floor, were the remains of what had clearly been a large and delicious feast.

The Khobar Traditional Village.  Thanks to Joanna for taking such beautiful Pictures.

We found an employee (they weren't hard to spot, each one was wearing a uniform with an apron made of multicolored glittering thread, and a hat that would have reminded me of an army hat from the 40s, if it hadn't also been covered in the glittering rainbow material.) and asked him to clean the room.  With amazing efficiency, he used the plastic tablecloths they had laid down to collect all the remnants and dishes and plates into two neat little tightly wrapped bundles.  He got all of it in one trip.  I'm sure it would have taken me at least three trips, maybe four.  He returned shortly with a vacuum and cleaned up any remaining bits of rice from the floor.

Now the room was perfect for a baby.  She had so much space to crawl around everywhere she went there were cushions to soften the fall.  I figured she would practice standing and crawling around to her hearts content, exploring every corner.  Nope.  She made a bee line for the door.  It seems to be a universal truth that kids only ever want what they can't have.  As soon as the door closed, she was after it trying to open it.  I suppose it didn't help that there was a slit at the bottom of the door, probably to slide food in through, but which was at exactly her eye level when crawling, to entice her by giving her a glimpse of the world beyond.  We attempted to block the door with pillows, which were surprisingly heavy, but not heavy enough to keep her from pulling it down.  There was a lock on the door, but worryingly, it was on the outside.  We could easily be locked in here like prisoners.  It was almost as if someone had that exact idea in mind when they installed the doors with holes in the bottom for food...

Eventually, my friend decided to venture out and try to discover the process of ordering food, and he took the baby out so she could see what she had been missing.   After a while, he returned, having ordered the traditional food Kobsa, in both meat and chicken varieties.  He explained that he had been held up by a Saudi man who had come to him while he was ordering, gushed over the baby, and then took her out of his arms, and over to his family in an eating room similar to ours where they all admired her.  Then the man returned the baby to my friend, beaming and happy to have shown his family such a cute baby.  "What could I do?"  He said.  "He spoke no English, and we couldn't communicate, and he just sort of took her right out of my arms.  It happened so quickly, what could you do?"  In America, this sort of thing might get you arrested, but here, it's fairly normal.  Saudi's love children, they think nothing of showing affection to strangers children, especially blond ones with blue eyes.

Traditional Kobsa dishes.....
 and some other foods I don't remember the names of

Not too much later, our  food arrived, first a soup, and then a plate of different types of Hummus and two salads, a cucumber salad, and an olive salad.  The a plate of porridge with a vegetable sauce, and finally three dishes, each with probably a pound of rice in them and on top half a roasted chicken on one, and what we determined to be lamb meet in the other two.  It was delicious, the meat was juicy and fell right off the bone, and the rice was perfectly spiced.  I thought the porridge dish was okay, but couldn't quit wrap my head around eating oatmeal with something savory.  I liked the hummus and pita bread as well, especially one kind that was red in color.  The challenge was actually eating the food.  I pride myself on being a master of eating with my hands, so i figured eating on the floor should come easily to me, since I don't really have any manners to begin with.  Let me tell you, it's a good thing we were in a private room where I could take off my abaya.  I don't think I could have done it with my sleeves flapping about and sitting on the hem accidentally etc...  It was hard enough just to find a comfortable seating position without it.  I tried sitting with one foot under me and the other on the floor with knee bent, in what I am told is the traditional fashion, but had to switch feet after about 2 minutes and gave up altogether a minute later.  I tried kneeling with both feet under me, I tried sitting cross legged, I tried sitting with my feet to one side, then the other.  Every position I tried, left my mouth dangerously far from the plate, inviting spills and mess.  I think by the end, even the baby had gotten less food on her than I had. 

We gave it our best, but in the end, we still had a lot of rice and about a quarter of a chicken left.  We probably could have all shared just one of the dishes there was so much rice, but the menu said they were single portions.  Unbelievable.  I took the leftovers home and managed to get 8 more meals out of it.  I don't think I'll be wanting any more rice anytime soon.  But I promise to go back, there are some traditional desserts I need to try, and hopefully, this time I'll remember to charge my camera better and take a picture of the cars in cement for you.