Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, part six

There are two things you need to know about camels before you try to film them. The first is they’re very curious. The second is they spit. It’s estimated there are over a million camels in Saudi Arabia, and we went to meet some of these one-humped wonders while shooting in Al Thumama desert outside Riyadh.

Our guide, a quiet man in a four-wheel drive, was running late, and made no excuses for his tardiness. By the time he arrived we’d been waiting in the lobby for an hour and were all pretty irritated, especially my boss.

The densely-packed houses soon gave way to smaller communities and eventually to Bedouin tents, and we forgot about being pissed off as we shot off-road and into the red desert sand. The car lurched in all directions as we tore through the dunes, sinking and peaking and leaning as we held on for dear life. At one point we headed up a hill that looked to me to be about 45 degrees; from my position in the middle of the back seat I could hold onto the door handle without reaching. I had been sweating in my abaya and hijab before we left the city; by the time we reached our remote location in the Thumama desert I was drenched, and it wasn’t from the heat.

When we extricated our shaking selves from the car, the first thing I noticed was the rubbish. Plastic bags, old Coke bottles, and food wrappers poked through the sand everywhere we looked. Even if we’d wanted to frame out the garbage, we couldn’t have. Despite this, the desert was magnificent. Through the heat haze, golden sands stretched to the horizon. The wind had painted magnificent patterns – lines and circles and dips and peaks – waves in a sea of sand. I was so hot in the 50 degree heat (that's celsius) I took off my hijab and let the breeze grab my hair. It was the best feeling ever. Our driver wasn’t Saudi so didn’t mind. 

After about an hour we had all the shots we needed, so headed back towards the camel souq.

Rows of trucks carrying camel food.

Camel caravan

Camels were domesticated thousands of years ago by frankincense traders, who trained them to make the long and tortuous journey from southern Arabia to the northern regions of the Middle East. They’re valued not only as a source of transportation, but also for their milk, meat, wool and hides – and for racing. 

They may be funny looking creatures, but they’re incredibly well designed for life in the desert. Aside from their underbite and constantly masticating jaws, they have two rows of long curly eyelashes that help keep out sand and dust, and thick, bushy eyebrows to shield their eyes from the sun. Their thick matted fur not only protects the camel from cold and heat, but stops it perspiring so it doesn’t lose water. Arabian (dromedary) camels only have one hump, which contain fatty deposits that when metabolized can release one gram of water for every gram of fat. When food and water become scarce, the camel extracts energy from their fat stores. They galumph along, moving both feet on one side of the body, then both feet on the other - side to side like ships of the desert.

















We pulled up alongside one of thousands of enclosures which stretched across the flat sand. The people who tend to the animals live on-site in canvas tents, with little more than a stretcher for sleeping, a seat, a bowl for washing, and a couple of containers of water inside. The camels themselves came in all shades, aside from the colour camel - brown, black, grey, tan, and white. They all had branding marks, or wusum, to indicate who owns them.

Wusum

The camels had a field day with the film equipment, checking out the windsock over the boom microphone, along with the camera itself. We all learned not to move towards them too fast though - those suckers can spit long distances.

That trip to the desert was the highlight of my time in Saudi. I loved the unfamiliarity of it all - the excruciating heat of the sun, the beauty of the sand stretching for miles in every direction, the noise and the smell of the camels. It was an amazing way to end our trip. The next day we flew to Austria, where the freedom to wear  shorts and a t-shirt made me slightly uncomfortable at first, and then back to real life in Toronto. 

We never were invited to Prince Alwaleed's desert camp. Maybe next time?

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia - part five

The Masmak Fortress was built in 1865 under the reign of Abdullah bin Rasheed, an invader from the north, who had seized control of the city from the rival clan of Al Saud. In 1902 the Fortress was captured by the future King Abd al-Aziz, and the event restored Al Saud control over Riyadh.  His descendants still rule Saudi Arabia.

The citadel, renovated in the 1980s and now housing a museum, is made from sun-baked bricks plastered over with straw and mud. 

We entered through a thick, carved wooden door, and I was immediately relieved for the temperature change. I’d had a hard time finding anything in Toronto that was suitable to buy to wear under the abaya (not realizing I could just have worn anything,) and the only thing I’d brought was a long black polyester nightgown. Not my best work. I sweltered for the entire trip.

The inside of the citadel was just as impressive as the exterior. The museum exhibits showed the historical successes of the Al Saud family, with little mention of the Al-Rasheed clan. Everything was written in English, as well as Arabic, which was handy.  It was easy to get lost in my imagination in there, with the numerous dark rooms - into which light peeked through triangular holes in the thick walls – and intricate carved and coloured doors and walls.

         


















Beams, and the rickety ladders that stretched up to connect the various levels inside, were simply unstripped tree trunks, making it feel very earthy, and yet quite eerie. I loved it.

After a couple of hours exploring, we emerged into the heat to start filming. Almost immediately, I was soaked in sweat. Because I couldn't be seen to be working, I decided, without thinking about the wisdom of my actions, to head off to the nearby souq to see if I could find something cooler to wear under my abaya. 

Alone. Unaccompanied. A big no-no. Illegal, even. I’d only been on my own about 15 minutes before I realized I was being followed, probably by one of the Mutaween (religious police,) and very quickly headed back to the crew, who were done with exteriors.

We headed back over to the Souq al-Thumairi, which is known for gold and antiques but sells almost everything – from coffee to chain mail. 

The vendors seemed pretty happy to have a film crew around. We were soon surrounded by salesman trying to get us to shoot in their stall.

Colourful carpet sellers hawked their wares. Antique dealers tried to entice us with good deals on ornamental (or not) daggers. Fabric sellers flashed their brightly coloured scarves and mirrored cushion covers our way. And then the call to prayer started. Quick as a flash, we were shoved out the door, which was pulled down behind us. That was our cue – we headed out into the square to film the sun going down behind the Masmak fortress while the melodious adhan called the faithful to prayer. Magic.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, part four

The next morning, we left the Kingdom Tower and headed to the streets – or at least, to the newer suburbs around the Kingdom Centre. We were initially escorted by one of the Four Seasons staff, who was there to help us if we were stopped by the mutaween (religious police.) 

Most houses were square, with flat roofs, and the streets were a sea of pastel-coloured stone – pink, tan, yellow, sand, coral. Many homes were imposing, standing behind high, ornate gates; interestingly, though, the cars parked outside were all pretty old. Each neighbourhood has at least one mosque; in some places we saw three or four within a few blocks. We didn’t see a soul on the streets, beyond the three cars that stopped to ask what we were doing.

Speaking of cars, we headed to an overpass to get some modern city shots – and watched the organized chaos on the highway below. Women aren’t allowed to drive here – and the men wear the ghutrah/keffiyeh (head scarf) when they drive, which means they have no peripheral vision. Not ideal for driving. How there aren’t more accidents, I’ll never know - the number of blind lane changes and close calls we saw was unreal.

Contemporary Riyadh is only about 100 years old. Before that, it was a dusty, walled town with homes made of mud and straw-brick, arranged around the ochre Masmak Fortress. Near the fortress is the headquarters of the Mutaween (religious police), the Great Mosque, and Deira Square, a non-descript square in which public executions (normally by beheading) occur on Friday mornings.

The Fortress had closed for the evening, but the nearly souq (market) was still open, so we popped in for a very quick look before the vendors were called to sunset prayer. Many just crossed the road to the mosque in the Masmak complex, and we watched as men poured into the building, took off their shoes, sank to their knees, and brought their heads to the floor in prayer. There are five daily prayers (pre-dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset and evening,) and all shops and businesses close to the public during prayer time.  The call to prayer (the adhan) is the most wonderful, achingly haunting sound, and I will never forget it. Because there are so many mosques, you often hear competing adhan, each muezzin (the person who leads and recites the adhan) seemingly trying to drown the other out.

The streets were deserted during prayer, so we took a look at the ruins around the citadel. It was so sad seeing buildings that had clearly been so beautiful lying in ruins. We were to see quite the opposite the following day, when we went inside the Masmak fortress, a building restored to within an inch of its life.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, part three

After our interview with Prince Alwaleed, we headed out of the Kingdom Centre for lunch. Our cameraman Brian, Canadian through and through, was hanging out for a steak and a beer. The beer wasn’t going to happen, but we managed to find a steak house – inventively called The Steak House. We ate in the family section of the restaurant, where men and women can eat together, otherwise I’d have been all on my lonesome in the women’s section. 

Later that afternoon we filmed in some of the large suites inside the Four Seasons. All of them were bigger than the entire four-storey walk up I lived in in Toronto. This is where the famous and wealthy stayed, and I wondered what I would’ve heard if those walls could talk. They were stylish, classic, and pristine – a little too staid for my liking, but I wouldn’t complain about staying there, all the same – so long as I didn’t have to pay.

The next morning we watched the amazing chefs work their magic at the poolside Grill Restaurant, and then headed into the kitchens to see the construction of the Kingdom Tower confections that were waiting in my room on arrival. 

Later, I faced my fear of heights head on, on the 99th floor Skybridge, right at the top of the Kingdom Tower. As long as you look straight ahead, it's fine....

But if you look down....

When the wind blows, the city is engulfed in a haze of sand – lucky for us we had a pretty clear day.

That day my views on Saudi women began to change. By this time I’d become quite used to the abaya and hijab, and still being the same person underneath, I'd realized that perhaps wearing the clothes didn’t mean sacrificing your identity, your character, or your femininity. Brian was leaning on the angled glass, looking down to the ground nearly a kilometer below, when three Saudi women started heckling him in Arabic. We heard them giggling first, then calling out, and then one sidled over to him and asked in English “Are you single?”

I just about swallowed my tongue. Covered she was, demure she was not! 

My preconceptions changed even more when we visited the Kingdom Mall, in the Kingdom Tower Centre. Here, husbands and wives shopped together, aside from on the ladies-only floor (Ladies Kingdom.) Most of the women were wearing the niqab, so all but their eyes were covered - eyes that were adorned with dramatic, and exquisite, makeup. Expensive shoes, some with incredibly high heels, peeked from the bottom of their embellished abayas. They clutched Louis Vuitton, Prada, and Chanel handbags, which carried their Versace or Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses. The husbands of these women dutifully carried armfuls of shopping bags. It seemed their private relationships weren’t as foreign to me as I’d expected – and it was a nice surprise.

I was itching to get out into the city to see more of Riyadh, and over the next days, that's exactly what we did.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia - part two

The Kingdom Centre was out of this world. I could see it from miles away, and it grew ever larger on the horizon, lines of bright lights stretching up past the palm trees and into the ink black sky. Built in 2001, it is 296m (984 ft) tall, about the same height as the Eiffel Tower. To reach the Sky Bridge on the 99th floor (at the top of the bottle opener) you have to take two elevators - the first 50 second ride takes you to 180m, and the second elevator takes another 40 seconds to reach the top. On the lower floors of the Centre you'll find a shopping complex, with stores like Marks & Spencer, Louis Vuitton, Prada and Dior; the upper floors are mainly offices and luxury apartments.

As we pulled up at the Four Seasons Hotel, which occupies floors 30-50 of the Tower, we were met by men in pristine black suits who knew our names and greeted us by them. I felt almost famous.

There’s one word to describe the foyer of the hotel - opulent. Magnificent arrangements of bright flowers burst out of their vases, as a towering water feature bubbled from the high ceiling.

Illuminated palm trees stretched at least two floors. When I arrived in my room, my luggage was waiting for me, along with a welcome letter and the most delicious assortment of cakes, fruit and sweets, arranged on a platter in the shape of the Kingdom Tower. Very, very impressive.

And then there was the view. The city stretched out as far as the eye can see, and the patterns of multicoloured lights made the cityscape spectacular.

I slipped into my complimentary slippers (about four sizes too big, but who was I to complain?) and had the best night’s sleep between the feather-soft sheets. I could totally get used to this life.

The next morning I was up early to get my first glimpse of Riyadh by day. That’s when I became aware that we were right in the middle of the desert. Sand stained the windows, but the view was still something to behold. I had a room service breakfast, threw on my gym clothes under my abaya, and headed off to find the womens’ gym.

It was well hidden, but I was lucky there was one. I almost walked into the privacy screen which shields exercising women from the eyes of the male staff who come to clean and maintain the room. There was a treadmill, a bike, and some weights, but there was also a TV. Bet you didn’t know they show the Family Guy on Saudi cable – with Arabic subtitles.

Later that morning, I met the crew for our first order of business here – interviewing HRH Prince Alwaleed Bin Talal, Chairman of Kingdom Holdings. We were escorted into the waiting area, which was decorated with pictures of HRH with various world leaders, along with the logos of some of the brands Kingdom Holdings has substantial investments in – including Apple, Paypal, and TimeWarner. The hallway had shelves of magazines with HRH on the covers. When word came that he was due to arrive in the office, there was a flurry of activity. The women who work in his office lined up alongside his elevator to greet him as he emerged. We stood and watched him pass. A few minutes later we were ushered into the room where we were to interview him.

It was a very large room – bigger than my entire apartment, and possibly the apartments below it too. The majority of the couches were zebra print, the cushions more sedate. Plants and art and family photographs lined the walls. We were given a five minute warning that HRH would be joining us soon, and were told his personal film crew would be filming us filming him. He swept in, wearing an immaculate white thobe, red and white ghutrah, and black igal (see photo above.) He was very pleasant, very businesslike, and spoke excellent English very quickly. New Zealanders are known for speaking quickly, but HRH was in another league entirely – he might even be more fluent in English than me. I, of course, didn’t conduct the interview, which went very well. As soon as it was done, he rushed off to another engagement, and we were left to pack up.

It had been hinted that if HRH liked us, we may be invited to film at his desert camp. While we waited to hear, we had a lot more to see and do.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia - part one

I was nervous about visiting Saudi Arabia. As I sat on the plane, I thought about all I’d read of the treatment of women there, in this society that was as strange to me as ours was to them. When the flight purser announced we were starting our descent into Riyadh, I put on my borrowed abaya and hijab and hoped for the best.

We were to be in Riyadh for just over a week. I was producing and co-directing a documentary about Isadore Sharp, who started the Four Seasons hotel chain. Saudi prince, HRH Alwaleed Bin Talal, had bought the chain with Microsoft’s Bill Gates, and we were interviewing him about Mr Sharp and the purchase of the Four Seasons brand.

As unofficial guests of HRH, we had our visas fast-tracked, and were lucky to be staying at the Four Seasons Riyadh inside the 99-storey Kingdom Tower, which oddly enough (given that alcohol is forbidden here) resembles an enormous bottle opener.

As an woman, I wasn’t strictly allowed to work in Saudi Arabia, nor was I allowed to travel with anyone who wasn’t my husband or close relative. My male boss and co-director, should anyone ask, was my “father.” I’m not sure what would’ve happened had anyone asked about the married cameraman or unmarried sound guy who were traveling with us.

We were met at the landing gate by one of HRH’s people, and as we were escorted to customs, I became extremely conscious of my gender. The lines of men in traditional long white thobes were long, (I didn't see one other woman,) and as we waited for our passports to be stamped I felt their eyes on us – no doubt wondering why we were jumping the queue. Even the guys felt it – they were wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts, and looked as western as could be.

Customs cleared, we walked out into the still and humid air, climbed into two black SUVs, and were driven to the Four Seasons Riyadh to begin our adventure.

Welcome

Kia ora!

If you've joined me from www.nzfixer.com, a special welcome to you. 

If you've come across me by accident, even better.

My name is Eleisha, and I'm a journalist. For 21 years I've worked in the media, starting in radio and moving to print before beginning my television career 14 years ago. Wow, that makes me feel old. I'm 38, soon to be 39, and I'm very happy to be right here, right now. Here is Wellington, New Zealand, and now is 6 April, 2014.

Right now I am a media fixer - I help television crews coming into New Zealand to film. I do everything from research, to setting up interviews, to booking flights, to recommending restaurants. I have two young kids, so having this great gig allows me to be here for them.

In my previous life I was researching, producing, and directing documentaries in Toronto, Canada, and that's what this blog is about.

Stay awhile, look around, and let me know what you think.

Ka kite ano,

Eleisha