Day 79 ~ Jeddah Day One. In which we become travelers...

 March 29, 2022

Inching toward 95 degrees, which is why we opted for an evening excursion, when the sun's fury fades and the night wind breathes softly over the dunes...

“Please be a traveler, not a tourist. Try new things, meet new people, and look beyond what’s right in front of you. Those are the keys to understanding this amazing world we live in.”
― Andrew Zimmern

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia...only recently opened to tourism...among the most conservative of Muslim countries...terra incognita for us. How fortunate we are to be here! When I was a child, my mother used to read to my sisters and me from a book called 1001 Arabian Nights. I learned about Aladdin & the Magic Lamp and Ali Baba & the 40 Thieves long before Disney took up the tales. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd have my own Arabian Nights adventure.

Or that it would bear so little resemblance to the flying carpet rides of my childish imagination!

The port at Jeddah is a commercial one, and is not really equipped to deal with passenger ships. The Saudi officials set up a complicated system that required us to ride a shuttle bus to the distant cruise terminal for processing of our travel documents and collecting our fingerprints prior to entry into the Kingdom. This was to be done well before embarking on our first excursion. Our excursion was set to depart at 4 PM, so just before lunchtime, we went over with our passports & CDC cards & Saudi Arabia e-visas to make sure all travel righteousness had been fulfilled. After that face to face exam, we only had to show our passports with the entry stamp each time we paraded through the largely empty terminal.

Our excursion was for an evening in the desert at a Bedouin camp, enjoying the famous Arab hospitality, entertainment, and a supper under the stars. It sounded so inviting that over 200 of our fellow cruisers had signed up for this adventure, so there were several buses to carry us all to the venue. Unfortunately, a few passengers assigned to Bus 10 with us had not gone through the customs process ahead of time like the rest of us had, so we were the last bus to depart the terminal, long after the others were out of sight.   

Shortly after leaving the port, we were met by devastation on both sides of the highway. Acres and acres of residential area had been demolished with limited attempts to clear away the rubble. 

I can't imagine the tour company intended for us to see this destroyed area of the city that went on for miles. It was our first clue that Bus 10 was in trouble. The second was that instead of providing commentary or answering questions as we rode along, our "guide" had gone to the back of the bus and promptly fell asleep! 

But this was our chance to be travelers, not tourists, not to expect to be shown only the lovely and acceptable. Here was Jeddah in the raw. For some unknown reason, part of the city has been purposely demolished. (The next day we'd hear conflicting stories about how the area was filled with criminals and illegals and the King wished to clear the area so "good people" could build better homes and lead good lives. Another said the homes were all sub-standard and had to be replaced, but in the face of no clearing and rebuilding going on, I find myself wondering about that, too.) It's a puzzlement and local media reports shed no clear light on it other than to tout the King's 2030 deadline for modernization.

Evidently some buildings managed to escape destruction. 

Then our driver turned off the highway and drove us back into the city in time for rush hour through the heart of Jeddah. The men on Bus 10 perked up immediately because King Abdullah Avenue is home to more car dealerships than I've ever seen all smooshed together. And what dealerships all in a row! The DH's eyes gleamed as we passed Ferrari, Lamborghini, Rolls Royce, Bentley...and then he came back down to earth when the next lot belonged to Volkswagen. There were Chevrolets, Nissans--so many different makes and models I lost count. Then the rental car companies began. Clearly the Saudis love their automobiles. 

Women are allowed to drive in the Kingdom now. But
I didn't see any behind the wheel. Evidence of intelligence
given the way the men drive!

And they drive like Bostonians! When we moved to Boston, we were shell-shocked for the first month or so at the helter-skelter habits of our fellow motorists. It's a city where use of a turn signal for a lane change is considered a sign of weakness. 

In Jeddah, there don't seem to be any formal traffic lanes, no demarcation lines on the road. Sometimes, we'd be riding three vehicles abreast, sometimes four with no change in the width of the road. Cars cut in front of each other and merge suddenly with zero warning, except possibly a "courtesy toot" from their horn! (Another thing that reminded me of Boston!)

We distracted ourselves from the sense of an impending fender-bender by noticing how many American franchises were there--McDonald's, of course, Starbucks, Hardees, KFC, Dominos Pizza, Toys-R-Us, even Chuckie Cheese!

Then the driver began to call out "Ahmed!" over and over, which was apparently our guide's name. When some of the rest of the passengers took up the cry, Ahmed woke up and made his way to the front of the bus where a furious conversation in Arabic ensued. (Isn't strange how angry something sounds when you don't understand exactly what's being said?) Apparently neither the driver nor Ahmed knew where the venue for our outing was located, or how to get there, and the version of Google maps on Ahmed's phone was less that helpful. At one point, we caught a glimpse of one of the other buses from our group, but they were heading a different direction than we, perpendicular to our route, on a highway we rolled by on an overpass. Since there was no way to put our bus into "Jump" gear, we soldiered on with Ahmed's phone to guide us. (We later learned that other bus was almost as lost as we were!)

These stylized camels caught my eye as we broke free of the city and headed into the desert. This is as much of a sunset as we got. Sol was obscured by the fine sand and other airborne particulates and transformed into this sickly yellow ball. In case you're wondering, this photo has not been touched up. That's the color of the sky through our slightly tinted bus window. I found myself wondering how often the children of Jeddah see a blue one...

A couple of times our driver stopped and backed up ON THE HIGHWAY, to take an exit he'd missed, but I'm not sure they were the right ones either because once he was off the main road, the driver did several jigs and jags and scraped the front of the bus against something under the sand that sounded like it wasn't about to give. At one point, we passed a semi-truck on a fairly deserted road and saw that the driver had stopped to spread his prayer rug in the sand beside his vehicle to make his evening devotions. I respect that. It does the human heart good to acknowledge that there is a God and we are not Him.

And a little prayer couldn't hurt our situation just then either.

Then as the sky kept growing darker, we drove through what looked like a newish housing development, then past a cement plant as the last of the light faded to civil twilight. We were driving on more or less packed sand instead of asphalt, swerving and sliding in ways that reminded me of driving in snow in the Upper Midwest. 

Then a Jeep came toward us, stopped and flashed its lights indicating we should follow them.

A cheer went up when we saw the cluster of buses in the distance!

The trip that should have taken one hour had stretched into 2 1/2, but it wasn't all bad. We'd just had a chance to see the real Jeddah, to experience the frustration of traffic and bustle like a native, to see both devastation and new development, to experience the aesthetic of "lostness" that adds flavor to travel. And our evening was barely starting. 

Our hosts greeted us with smiles, and hot tea and dates, a comforting and welcome treat after our long bus ride. And directed us to the rest rooms, another very welcome development after the long bus ride! We were assured that we hadn't missed anything important, which made me wonder what everyone else was doing until we arrived.

One of the things the early-comers did was hike up the nearby sand-covered hills.

The DH is an excellent horseback rider, a regular Centaur! Riding a camel, however, is another kettle of fish. Staying on (which he did) while the camel stands up is a rodeo all by itself! 

I passed on the camel ride, but it was a delight to watch the DH enjoy himself on one.

Our hosts entertained us with some live music and dancing. I managed to take a video of them (and one of the DH on the camel) but we're having trouble uploading things right now. The music was joyously atonal and the dancing full of life. 

Then without any formal announcement, we noticed most of the crowd gravitating toward the area where tables and chairs had been set up in deference to us stiff Westerners for whom sitting on a cushion at a low table would be torture. Supper was being served buffet style in two lines--one for vegetables and sweets, and one for meat. We opted to stand in the meat line because the aroma was so enticing. 

There was freshly made flatbread, kebabs of chicken, lamb, beef, and liver (which was spiced so well, I wished I'd asked for more than one piece!) along with two kinds of dipping sauce, one cool and mild and yogurt-based, and a version with more heat spiced with cardamom. The meal was followed by a plate-sized honey cake, which the DH & I shared, not too sweet, but crunchy on the outside and filled with a creamy center. Delish!

Unfortunately, we didn't experience the inky desert sky I'd hoped for. The venue was too well lit to allow for star-gazing, but the lighting was necessary because the pathways were marked by stones in the sand which I'd never have seen had it been darker.

Then it was time to return to the ship, but the sad saga of Bus 10 was not yet over. Our driver, God bless him, had managed to drop two wheels into the deep, unpacked sand when we first arrived and the poor man had spent the whole time we were being feted and feasted trying to drive out of it. Instead, he managed to sink all the wheels in up to the axels. The bus canted ominously to the right and the sand was so high on the door, he had to crawl through a window to get out.

Suddenly all the passengers of Bus 10 became refugees and we had to find seats on the other buses. Kudos to Sarah-Leanne, our excellent assistant cruise director, who boarded each bus to make sure all her lost lambs found a ride back to the Star. And in a loose approximation of a convoy, we headed out into the desert night in search of the right way back to Jeddah and the port.

I don't want to say our driver was exceeding any speed limits, but I snapped this photo of a theme park as we zipped by. You be the judge. 

All's well that ends well, and our return trip was made safely and in less than the hour promised. If an adventure is defined by not knowing the outcome when a plan goes awry, we'd had a true one. We'd seen parts of Jeddah most visitors won't. We'd endured a rush hour like natives. The DH got a camel ride. Our tummies were filled with wonderfully exotic food and while I couldn't whistle any of the tunes we heard, I remember the music's eerie strangeness with fondness.

Kristy shared a bit of kindergarten wisdom with us. It's useful when things don't go to plan.

Ya git what ya git, so don't throw a fit, 'cuz that is it! 

We could be upset by the repeated snafus, or we could take what came our way with a little grace. I found myself pitying our driver. Out of all of us, he had the worst night, hand's down. 

Clearly, tourism is new for the Saudis and I'm sure they'll get much better at it with practice. They have warmth and hospitality down. Now it's just a matter of mastering the logistics.

More soon...

April 1, 2022 Update

Viking reimbursed 1/2 the price of the excursion to the passengers on Bus 10, which we thought was very decent of them. We had missed quite a bit of time at the venue, but as Mrs. Patmore from Downton Abbey says, "What the eye can't see, the heart won't grieve for."