Durrah Beach Hotel, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, Wednesday, 1998-03-25 08:00 local (Z+3)
Both yesterday and the day before I laid down for a nap at 15:00...and wound up sleeping through until 05:00 the next morning. That's one way to make the time pass in an unpleasant place. Usually I fight depression by sleeping and eating. However, I've been managing to avoid overeating, primarily by sleeping through supper.
And I've been doing pretty good exercise wise. Heavy exercise helps my mental outlook, and I need all the help I can get in this place. I've run every day here in spite of having a really sore and badly swollen Achilles's tendon. I'm going to have to get some different shoes. The cross-trainers I have with me don't have enough heel padding, at least I think that's the cause of the sore tendon.
The morning's collection of information from breakfast includes three significant items. First, we now have all three Saudia contract airplanes here down for maintenance. Hopefully one will be up by evening. Unfortunately that means I will have to fly, and I'm totally out of the mood. That happens when you sit and sit and sit.
Second, due to the reduced flying and the expectation of reduced flying, twenty-eight flight attendants are being sent home tomorrow.
Thirdly, we've heard the one airplane that flew yesterday got too low on an approach into Dakar, Senegal—that's in West Africa. The reason that airplane is now down for maintenance is that, at the request of the Senegalese, the Saudis are pulling the flight data recorder to find out what happened. We can't talk to the pilots; they were immediately sent back to the U.S. to keep them from being arrested. Somebody is obviously in trouble.
I'll try to describe in a few words the place we're staying. First, it's a compound, albeit a very large one. In many ways it's reminiscent of Najmah, the Aramco company town Jean and I lived in when we were in Saudi Arabia, in that the normal rules for public conduct in Saudi Arabia are somewhat suspended here. For example, you can go out in shorts, wear a western style (but not brief) bathing suit, and Saudi women can be unveiled.
There's this large hotel we're in, a marina with room for at least two hundred and fifty boats (with perhaps forty in residence), a golf course with real grass, equestrian facilities, a commercial area, villas, residence homes—in short a small town, and one that the religious police visit infrequently.
Though it's a resort—the full name is the Durrah Beach Resort at Al Asad (or something like that at the end)—it's not a resort in the typical western sense of the word. Tourism is not allowed in Saudi Arabia, so there are no tourists. The primary customers are Saudis that, on weekends, make the forty-five minute drive up here from Jeddah just to escape the restrictions of their own society. One of the attractions is soft porn on the cable television system here, supplied by four large satellite antennas. Importation or installation of such antennas is now outlawed in Saudi Arabia, but existing antennas have been allowed to remain.
A couple of crew members have tuned in to the porn station, apparently the stuff comes on around 02:00, and said that it's pretty tame—no frontal nudity below the waist and few frontal shots above—but to a Saudi male it's wild stuff indeed. <g>
Sidiki, homemade whiskey, is readily available here once you make connections. One of our flight engineers went to a flight attendants' party—there are parties almost every night—and reported that by the time he got there, all other attendees were well lubricated. I'm sure that the sidiki is also available to the Saudis as well as other, higher priced drugs. A CIA report a few years back noted that more than half of the 4,000 plus princes of the Saudi Royal family were regular cocaine users. They can bring it in without fear since they are exempt from having to clear customs.
Drug trafficking in Saudi is punishable by death. I am, in fact, bringing home some entry cards, the form you fill out when entering, that says in big, red letters in both English and Arabic, “WARNING DEATH FOR DRUG TRAFFICKER”. What that translates to is: death to the poor third world national here who gets caught with hashish (marijuana) but free license—as long as they're discreet—to those with money. The hypocrisy of the drug war is worse here than in the U.S.
The bad thing about this place insofar as Tower crew members is concerned is its isolation. We're a full hour, driving like a mad man, from Jeddah. That means, among other things, that you either have to pay the hotel to do your laundry or do it in your sink. I've been doing the sink bit. The hotel's service is very expensive. The Sofitel in Jeddah, where we stayed last year, had inexpensive laundry places on either side of it.
The commercial area here at the resort is only open during the weekend except for a small convenience market open 24 hours a day—except during prayer time, of course—every day. Prices in the commercial area are outrageous, about what you'd expect in a high class tourist trap. So, if you want prices or something not available here—I can't buy a stapler to replace the one I carry and that broke—you have to get into Jeddah.
An amusing sight around here during the weekends is numbers of young Saudi men attired in what is best described as jazzed up English riding costume. There is an equestrian center here. However, the number of Saudis—all male, of course—dressed in high black boots, white riding pants, and very colorful, tailored coats and those little hats vastly outnumber the number of horses. Oh, yes, they are all carrying riding crops—if that's the word for the little stick-like thing they've got.
Enough for now. I feel a serious nap coming on. <g>
Later...Terry