Taxi 1
The fever starts to come back again, this time supported by a heavy-caliber headache. I’ve ran out of paracetamol tablets in the morning, and with no pharmacies around I decide to survive the next hour in the taxi until I arrive at the hotel where I kept my stock.
The uber car arrives, I enter it, and try to smile in a vain attempt to increase my rating. The driver, a young lad wearing a white thobe with the collar unbuttoned smiles back at me. I confirm the destination, lean back, close my eyes, and use the last of my energy to look 100% disengaged. My head is pounding, and I feel weak.
The silence holds for 12 second.
“So, you Arabic good?”
I open my eyes and reply that unfortunately it’s almost non-existent, but I know the very basic expressions.
“No problem habibi, I teach you!”
I mentally roll my eyes, but perhaps for the sole reason that I enjoy putting myself into occasional suffering, I agree to play the game. After the oblivious “habibi” and “yalla”, I decide to push the limit.
“So how do you say ’You are beautiful’ to a girl?”
Nothing impossible to google, yet I thought it would be fun to hear it directly from a young Saudi guy. I would never imagine his reply.
He laughs out, tells me the expression, and then continues in a monologue:
“But too direct. Me like more not direct. Arabic less direct.”
“You talk to girls a lot?”
“Yes yes! I use many apps. Tinder, WhosHere, Singlesaroundme, or Badoo. But more fun talk on party.”
“Oh, party in Riyadh? Tell me more.”
“Easy friend. Friend’s friend, invitation, his home, many girls. Maybe every month, maybe every two month. You like alcohol?”
I’m surprised by the direct question, but whenever I can I try to be honest.
“Yes I do. But difficult to find in Riyadh. You?”
“Yes, very expensive. I like Gray Goose, good vodka, but maybe 1000 SAR (~250 EUR). But drugs cheaper, good joint or hash for 300 SAR”.
That’s still about five times more expensive than the negotiation starting price in Kathmandu, but I knew that the comparison is not fair. The Kathmandu price doesn’t include intensive whipping of your back and multiple months of a luxurious stay in the local 2* jail with a lovely desert view.
“Here, look.”
He puts his smartphone into my hands – a video of him and his friends smoking neatly packed joints while driving down a highway.
I feel almost like watching a porn for the first time in my life. Way back in my early teens, scared and excited at the same time, knowing that I’m doing something I shouldn’t. Yet man, this is really cool.
Suddenly, the uber driver starts slowing down the car and says “Hide phone fast!”
We stop at a police checkpoint. I take a deep breath and start thinking of stories of me being just an innocent customer, and know nothing about anything.
The policeman orders my driver to open the window and they start to talk. After few minutes the verdict is clear – the darkening film on the front glass needs to go down.
After pulling it down, the driver gets back his driving license, and continues to my destination.
“Shame, me just buy yesterday this. Now summer, very hot, can’t survive with no film. 20 SAR, tomorrow get a new one.”
“Yeah… you should.”
Taxi 2
Next day. The fever keeps going and coming in a very tsunamish way. I look at my watch – still 15 more minutes until paracetamol starts working. With 38 Celsius, I guess I should go and see the doctor.
The uber car arrives, I enter it, and try to smile in a vain attempt to increase my rating. The driver, a young lad wearing a white thobe with the collar unbuttoned smiles back at me. I confirm the destination, lean back, close my eyes, and use the last of my energy to look 100% disengaged. My head is pounding, and I feel weak.
The silence holds for 20 seconds.
“So how do you like Riyadh?”
I answer carefully but truthfully.
“I like the central part of the city as it feels like an actual city. The rest has an aura of plastickiness, but not as strong as one can feel in Dubai. What about you?”
“The city is not bad, but after spending 6 years studying in California, I prefer the cities on the West coast much more.”
I react with a almost inaudible “Hm, hm.” and expect the conversation to end, but after a while the driver continues.
“I just wish the people here in Riyadh a more open minded – outside of Riyadh they behave in a completely different way, so why bother with the masquerade anyway.”
I’m surprised to hear this kind of a open statement after such a short time. I answer that from the small amount of people that I have met and from what I have seen I agree, but such a huge change requires time. After minute, the driver continues.
“I worked for Huawei as an accountant, but it was tiresome, lots of number crunching without much exposure to people. I decided to quit, study some courses online and open my own business soon.”
I wish him good luck. We spend the next few minutes talking about life decisions, doing business in Riyadh, and personal growth.
Just before I get off the car, he asks me.
“Do you like horses?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. Why?”
“There is a very nice ranch just outside of Riyadh, if you want to go and see some, let me know. You have my number in the app.”
“Thanks.”
Taxi 3
Next day. The fever hit 39.7 and I’ve decided to take a plane one day earlier to visit the doctor back in Dubai. In case it’s something really serious, it’s a much more flexible destination than Riyadh.
The uber car arrives, I enter it, and try to smile in a vain attempt to increase my rating. The driver, a young lad wearing a white thobe with the collar unbuttoned smiles back at me. I confirm the destination, lean back, close my eyes, and use the last of my energy to look 100% disengaged. My head is pounding, and I feel weak.
After a minute, the guy takes a wrong turn resulting into a 5km detour. I show him the map, say to go to the location.
He responds with a light “Mafi mushkilah” (no problem) and goes on.
He misses another turn and enters a highway resulting into another 10 km of a detour.
I start to get angry and say that the way is really wrong and he needs to turn.
“Sorry brother, I don’t know location!”
I keep the “follow the f&*ing navigation” to myself, open up own google maps and show him the direction on the next exit. We eventually get on the right road.
“Friend, now good. You give me 5 stars, ok?”
In a slight shock I reply with a firm “Of course not.”
“Haha, why?”
“Because you missed the way.”
“No problem! You Christian?”
I reply that after living many years in Japan, value-wise I am living on the verge of atheism and Buddhism.
“Haha, good. You have girlfriend?”
I raise my eyebrow and reply that yes.
“Haha, good. You sleep together?”
I raise my other eyebrow and reply that yes.
“Haha, good. Buddhism good, sleeping not OK in Islam.”
I reply that I know.
“Haha, your name Michael?”
I reply that yes.
“Like you Michael Jackson?”
I roll my eyes.
“Haha, Michael Jackson was Muslim, you know?”
I reply that I have my doubts about that. We arrive at my hotel.
“Haha, you give me 5 stars, ok?”
I keep the “no way your lousy humor is going to get you more stars than you deserve for this ride” to myself and reply that no.
Taxi 4
Three weeks later. Antibiotics have saved my life and I got back to Riyadh. The uber car arrives, I enter it, and try to smile in a vain attempt to increase my rating. The driver, a young lad wearing a white thobe with the collar unbuttoned smiles back at me. I confirm the destination, lean back, close my eyes, and keep looking outside of the window.
The silence holds for 30 seconds.
“How do you like Saudi?”
I answer carefully but truthfully.
“I enjoy the amount of contrasts – there are people who work hard, there are people who take it extremely easy. There are people who are strict and conservative, there are people who are liberal and chill. All this is encapsulated in a mixture of tremendous change. Even though some goals are being achieved and some goals are being abolished and quietly forgotten, everything is developing and in a strange way going forward.”
The driver listens and after a while responds:
“You know brother, before 5-10 years, Saudi was mostly about two things: Islam and oil. You had the religion, you had the oil, and people thought that it’s only rich men’s world. Today, Saudi is about three things.
First, you still have the religion – but people don’t care what you are and what you believe in, they respect you, a Muslim, a Christian, a whatever.
Second thing, there is Family. You have definitely seen that there is not much entertainment, so you spend more time with your family.
And lastly, there is Money. Without any entertainment, you don’t have many opportunities to spend it, so after working one year in Dubai and one year in Riyadh, the sum you are able to save is totally different.”
“It’s interesting that you see it this way. I wonder how long will the second and third point hold.”
“Saudi is changing my friend. The new prince is 31 years old, he is a young guy, thinking big. Currently he is planning a completely new entertainment city with 7 flags and other places and I think it will be amazing. Moreover we will have the metro soon, it’s getting much better.”
“I see that you are looking forward to see new places developed where you can spend your money then.”
“My mantra is work hard play hard. I try to work 14-16 hours every day, either in my father’s company or working as a uber driver for 3-4 months, then I take 1 month off and travel abroad. Repeat 2-3 times per year.”
“I’m starting to get jealous. Where have you been so far?”
“My dream is to visit all ‘famous countries’. This year so far it has been Amsterdam, Bruxelles, Berlin, Prague, London, Marrakesh, and Dubai. I want to finish with USA and next year I’d like to focus on less major countries, such as Russia or maybe South Korea.”
“Sounds amazing. How did you like Prague?”
“That place is amazing, with my friend smoking weed in the Starbucks. Not that it doesn’t exist in Saudi, but only in the black market – you have to know where you need to look and whom to talk to.”
“I hear you, I hear you my friend.”