Sober Saudi

I want to preface this post by mentioning that I went to the first “KAUST Wellness” meeting this past week, in which seven somber students sat and shared (no alliteration intended) their struggles to transition to life at KAUST; not necessarily life in Saudi Arabia (since they’re apples and oranges).  In one of the more meaningful meetings I’ve sat in on, moderated by the official KAUST psychologist, we were able to comfortably lay out the challenges that we face on a daily basis and discuss how we can deal with them more optimistically.  This is not to imply that I was “depressed” before attending this meeting, but rather looking for an “attitude adjustment” (we all need one of these every so often).  Needless to say, the timing couldn’t have been better because the past 24 hours at KAUST have been nothing short of a good laugh…

I remember about a month ago when friends and family were posting on their Facebook statuses that it was “raining cats and dogs” throughout California, and how the day of those first storms coincided with our first such storm, a sand storm.  As sand and dust are nothing to talk about in this part of the world, we hardly notice how people’s lives here have naturally evolved to deal with these nuisances without a second thought.  What we learned at KAUST today was that a rainstorm in Saudi is a whole new ballgame, or maybe nightmare.

This morning, after a rather romantic thunderstorm, all hell broke loose; along with a handful of houses.

(Since this story has to do with water, it’s important that you remember the problems many of the homes had during the initial move in period with leaky ceilings, collapsed ceilings, and black mold as a result of poor plumbing, insulation, and general design.  Not that this doubt should’ve crossed your mind either, but SURELY the roofs would be properly insulated to keep the water out, right?  Wrong.)

After blocking out the sirens and the impressive filing of emergency crew workers lining the streets I was able to soak in the damage of this otherwise harmless rain storm.  The roads were flooded two feet deep in water, the entire female population had been evacuated from their housing (sent to Jeddah for at least the next week), and ten male students were relocated because the conditions in their homes were “uninhabitable” (in other words, they didn’t just have leaks, they had entire ceilings collapse in the middle of the night as a result of water build up).  In short, KAUST had become a refugee camp in a matter of hours, and I was loving every second of it (these kind of events really bring the students together).

KAUST administration, quick on their feet sent out the following email before anyone could even think about attending classes:

“Good Morning Everyone,
Please note that due to the severe weather and flooding that we are currently experiencing here at KAUST, there will be no classes and all our schools (KAUST and ECC/K-12) will be closed, in conjunction with the offices.  We would request that you stay at home today.”

I’ve never been unlucky enough to live in a part of the world where “snow days” exist, and have surely never even dreamt of a “rain day” until today.

The timing of it all was very fortunate for the KAUST community as this next week marks the Eid holiday where most of the students are traveling outside of KAUST; but extremely unfortunate for the millions of pilgrims (and 62 KAUST students) embarking on the Hajj, just a stone’s throw distance from us.  The following article puts it all into perspective (and I encourage everyone to read it).

http://www.kuwaittimes.net/read_news.php?newsid=MTA4NDAzMDM3Mg==

Like every other challenge KAUST has faced, they’ll get over this one with one swift signature of a check.

Until then, I’d like to begrudgingly (ONLY because I’m a nice guy) open up the doors of my house for any wandering KAUST females to take refuge in.  Compulsory baking, laundry services, and occasional knitting would all be part of the live-in agreement; but those are merely details, ladies.

p.s. Happy Thanksgiving from:

(Contrary to popular belief as a result of the “Sober Saudi” hiatus, a lot has been taking place here at the KAUST Zoo over the past three weeks.  However, as a wise Mother of mine once said, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  So I’m keeping the events of the past three weeks locked in a safe place and listening to Mom this time.)

It’s official.  I Love Beirut… and I almost bought the lousy t-shirt to prove it (except it was sun-stained and being worn by an old man when I saw it).

I don’t know if I’m going to embrace every multi-cultured city like this whenever I leave KAUST, but I’m worried that I might even be susceptible to falling in love with Stockton, CA when everything’s said and done… How could a school like KAUST represent over 70 countries and still leave someone feeling culturally empty? You’ll never know!

Needless to say, our small pilgrimage to the “Paris of the Middle East” was destined for success from the start.

Largely unfamiliar with the turmoil that is Lebanon’s past (and sometimes present), we ventured into this jewel of a country with high hopes and a natural buzz.  It wasn’t until we’d nearly died in a taxi, tasted the strong Lebanese coffee, and explored a cathedral, mosque, and nightclub all on the same block, that we could truly appreciate Beirut for daring to be different.

It is difficult to describe a city accurately with only three days exposure (two days if you count the aftermath of the Beirut nightlife) but two things were apparent; the Lebanese are a proud and fashionable people.  I don’t know how many places exist in this world where you can walk through a bullet-ridden neighborhood in which every passing citizen is dressed like they’re ready for a gala or a business meeting, but I was impressed.  Even the Lebanese soldiers lining the streets wore smiles as they provided directions with the nod of their rifles (smiles may have been because of the Brazilian girls with us, but that’s beside the point).

All extremities considered, the one thing that I will take away from Lebanon with admiration was how they live in a largely tolerant, respecting, and modern society.  I know it’s tough to make these conclusions based on the general lack of transparency in this part of the world, but it was very much encouraging to see Muslims and Christians (and some Druze I’m sure!) dining, shopping, and interacting all in perfect harmony.

I imagine Lebanon is the only place in the Middle East where I’d be welcome to visit a mosque donning a tank top and shorts by a smiling Imam.  It’s also probably the only place where I could walk through a university campus, see a girl in a pink cocktail dress asking people to “Vote PRETTY” (the name of her student political party), and proceed to vote “PRETTY” without asking any questions; although to say “PRETTY” would be a harsh understatement…

Is it possible to study abroad in graduate school?  If so, sign me up.

For the past four years I’ve successfully dodged invitations to climb Half Dome in Yosemite National Park under the stars with friends and family. A combination of fear, disinterest, and a few other good excuses (probably not that good) kept me from discovering the magic that comes with catching the sunrise from atop the world… until the past weekend, that is.

On a blitz weekend getaway from the Kingdom, a dozen students and I set out for the City of Peace: Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt. Located comfortably on the southern point of the Sinai Peninsula, this beachside resort town is famous for the number of international peace conferences it’s hosted, beautiful diving, and a vibrant nightlife. This being said, I will forever call Sharm “the Marbella of the Middle East” or simply “Sharm el Sheikh, USSR.”

Never in my life have I been more entertained by the Eastern European populace. I would go so far as saying that up to 90% of the tourists visiting Sharm were from somewhere in Eastern Europe (haircuts, miniskirts, and confused looks all dictated this inclination). Looking back, one of my only regrets from the trip was not getting into a political discussion with one of these visitors over a drink (possibly in the middle of one of the many foam parties) to learn exactly how Eastern Europeans came to dominate the Sinai scene. Needless to say, it’s on my to-do list the next time I’m in need of 48 hours of freedom.

As I alluded to in the opening paragraph, the real treat during our vacation to Sharm was scaling one of the most religiously significant peaks in the world; Mount Sinai (or Mount Moses). This mountain, where Moses received the Ten Commandments from God was nothing short of spectacular; although sometimes smelly.

After bargaining with local tour guides, fudging our way through six different security checkpoints (including one at the base of the mountain during which a dumbfounded security guard pulled out a Frisbee and a bottle of Havana Rum from one of my friends packs), and hiring a twenty year old to take us up the trail; we started our journey. It was close to 2:30 am.

I’m not sure if it was our delirious state or the pitch darkness, but the first ten minutes of the hike were surreal. The mountains rising up on either side of us, exploiting the brightness of the stars (the most that I’d seen since camping in Africa) and the echoes of our footsteps had us all at the mercy of nature. This peace of mind didn’t last long…

Ten minutes into the hike, we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a regular Bedouin Wall Street. Cell phones, whistles, camel grunts and snippets of Italian (don’t ask why) started whirring around us like mad investors buying and selling stocks. Following the example of our un-deterred guide; we dodged camels, men asking for food, and offers to hire a camel with big eyes and a feeling of “awesomeness” (the only word that makes sense here).

Two and a half hours later, we found ourselves huddled in a tent just below the summit packed with beaten-up blankets, heavily-coated mountain men, and the smell of tea lingering in the thin air. Only when the first signs of light pierced the sky did we make the final push for the top.

Watching the sun rise into the sky at this holy site where Jews, Muslims, and Christians can congregate in peace was a memory that surely none of us on top of the mountain that morning will forget; just one of the few things we’ll choose not to forget on this short but memorable trip to Russia, I mean Sharm el Sheikh…

Yesterday I took my first (and hopefully last) ever flight from one desert to an even bigger desert… not something most people can boast having ever done.

Nestled inside the middle of the Rub ‘al Khali and a scene reminiscent of the late 1990’s, I had finally found the Saudi Arabia I was looking for:  Hummers, sand dunes, and black gold (only without the Hummers).

Watch the first few minutes of this video to see what I’m talking about: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJztP-Zy7zc

In this sand desert (larger than France, Belgium, and the Netherlands combined) sits the Saudi Aramco oil drilling site better known as Shaybah.  Pumping nearly 800,000 bpd of extra light crude oil (you can pump this stuff straight into the gas turbine) this well is responsible for about 10% of all of Saudi’s oil exports.

However, the real beauty of Shaybah is not necessarily the project site, but the surrounding landscapes.  Here on the west coast of the Kingdom, we’ve become accustomed to a desert similar to what you’ll see on the drive from LA to Vegas (KAUST, Vegas… all one big gamble); so when we were suddenly dropped into the middle of the type of desert you see only in the postcards, a real sense of awe overcame us all.

There’s something about lying on top of a thousand foot tall sand dune watching the sunset and listening to the call to prayer echo through the valley; knowing that a gracious reservoir a mile beneath you is pumping its gifts straight into your graduate education… and your mom’s 4Runner.

Contrary to the common belief among my peers that “I’d arrived in Saudi Arabia years too early” I was beginning to believe that maybe I’d showed up too late…

Did I mention that ALL of the sand used for the construction of Shaybah was imported from outside the Rub ‘al Khali?  It was the ‘90’s.

It’s 10 am and my Transport Phenomena (no I have no idea what that even means) professor just broke the record for consecutive slides with at least 6 abstract, mind-blowing equations (43 slides).  Either that or he’s switched over to that Word font that’s nothing but symbols and numbers… regardless, my mind is drifting like I’m lost in a desert; a 19˚C, A/C blasted desert of course.

In the West, there is this Hollywood influenced belief that the desert heat can seriously drive a man insane.  In the East it’s not just another movie scene (although I sometimes wonder if the segregation and lack of “goods” has something to do with it) and I have two real-life stories to support this theory; the first of which includes me wandering home after a long Wednesday night (the Friday night of the rest of the world) and proceeding to spend ten minutes trying to open my neighbor’s front door with MY house key…

The second story is the direct result of a male-dominated environment, plenty of fake beer, AND the heat.  One of the most common questions I get about life in Saudi is about the social life, specifically the parties.  Considering that my last recollection of a completely sober party was my 8^th birthday, dressed as Hulk Hogan and eating WWF cereal… I looked forward to the first KAUST party with mixed emotions.

To be perfectly fair, it was awesome.  The Filipino band, the near-beer flip cup, the crowd surfing, and the salsa lessons were nothing short of satisfying.  I was starting to become a believer in the near-beer revolution.

And then it happened; a product of Taiwan courtesy of Mexico… the ALUBA.While it’s nothing to be proud of, I honestly thought the “A-word” was the first such invention to come from within KAUST until reading this excerpt from a Taipei Times news article:

“In aluba, a boy is lifted off the ground by a group of his peers. His legs are forcibly parted, and the crowd shouts “aluba” as they ram the struggling victim crotch-first into any nearby upright object, such as a lamp post, an open door or a coconut tree.” – http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2007/09/09/2003377932

Have things really gotten that desperate?  Yes.  And it’s spreading faster than the Dengue fever amongst the Chinese students!

If you haven’t been following the news in the Middle East recently, a number of conservatives have been voicing their concerns about the gender mixing at KAUST.  It’s rumored (rumors single-handedly drive the middle east btw) that the noise from the conservatives was made audible after a video from KAUST leaked on YouTube showing this mixing.  A number of solutions have been considered to calm the waters, but I’m convinced only one way to help them empathize…

Coming soon to a YouTube near you:

“Aluba at KAUST”

Every major player in this world has someone they can turn to whenever they want to feel better about themselves; a younger, acne-prone step-brother of sorts…

Switzerland has the EU, China has the World, the United States has Mexico (just kidding amigos!), and Saudi Arabia has the Kingdom of Bahrain.  Being California born-and-bred living in Saudi Arabia, it was only a matter of time before I made the trip next door.  And what better time than during Eid, the week of celebrations following the end of Ramadan?

For those of you who’ve never heard of this island off the eastern coast of Saudi Arabia, don’t be discouraged.  There are only two things you need to know about this country smaller than the airport I flew into:

1. There are three liquor retail stores in the entire country (supposedly)

2. The cab drivers know this fact

After spending nearly two months inside Saudi Arabia, you find yourself living in waves of forgetting and longing for the things you left behind in your previous life; it really depends on how much you decide to immerse yourself.   Regardless of where I may have been on the wave when we arrived in Bahrain, I was not ready for what was to ensue.

Lines a mile long at the liquor store, nightclubs with names like Tabu, Ground Zero, and Wrangler (which was more like a high school dance in Atlanta fused with an Asian brothel), and cab drivers who used whatever calendar necessary to demand “weekend rates.”

Not to give the impression that this trip was all about “Making it Bah-rain” (only 80% true), we did take part in Eid festivities for expats and non-Muslims at the national mosque and visited a few mud “forts” to satisfy the cultural requirements.

It’s interesting to look at Bahrain in relation to the big ‘n rich neighbor Saudi.  There’s a certain fascination that the Saudi youth and Expats have with this playground that naturally draws you to it.  When talking about Bahrain their eyes light up like a kid at Disneyland; describing the water parks, night clubs, and most often “the chance to see girls.”  The Indian cab driver on the way from Saudi confessed with pride and a puff of a cigarette that he’s, “only a Muslim when he’s in Saudi Arabia;” and upon returning to the Kingdom, every question and response I received inquiring about my trip was met with a wink…

In all fairness, I was more impressed by the hospitality and high spirits of the locals (except the cab drivers, don’t get me started) that I met who were able to live a normal life in the middle of this abused “fantasy land.”  For the record, finding a local in Bahrain is like playing Where’s Waldo with real people.

Trying as hard as I could to appreciate the freedoms of Bahrain as a resident of Saudi Arabia, I was ready to “come home” after just three days of vacation.  I’d had enough freedom in three days to last me three weeks; when I just so happen to be heading to Egypt…

That’s right, I just called Saudi home.

Tonight I attended my first Royal Ball, on National Saudi Day, hosted by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques (and now KAUST); King Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz Al Saud.  The official event, the KAUST Inauguration Ceremony. I have never felt better (or cooler for that matter) being so insignificant in my entire life, if you can grasp that.

There’s something special about being in the presence of a King, a REAL King.  I get the idea that there are many such “Kings” in our world today, but only few actually have the power to inspire a nation.  King Abdullah is one of those few.

Besides the fact that his anticipated arrival got more construction finished on campus in the last two days than the past two months, even I got the chills when he entered the building (first time that’s happened since the Michael Jackson memorial).  And when he made the closing remarks, it just felt right to remove the English Translation headphones for a few minutes to hear the Arabic as spoken by a King.  A memory I’ll surely never forget.

As “ambassadors” for KAUST before the official ceremony began, about sixty students were asked to meet and greet with distinguished guests as they arrived.  With a red carpet guest list to rival any major awards show, it was the most exciting “community service” any of us had ever done.  Making small talk with a General of the Saudi Royal Guard, the President of MIT, and the CEO of Toyota (to name a few of the types of people in attendance) is not something you get to do every day, or in a lifetime.  You also don’t get to see the security precautions taken when VERY Important People are coming to town every day.

Before this event, many students warned me that “you will know when a member of the Royal Family is coming to town.”  I’ve never been in the presence of the President of the United States, but would guess that not even He has a security blanket this tight when he travels (or so we think).

Stretches of highway closed, four different armed forces present and armed, multiple ID cards issued, helicopters in the skies, the navy in the sea, etc.  Tonight long after the crowds had left, I heard what resembled either a homemade fireworks show or a small war from my home; just for excitement’s sake I’m sticking with the latter.  Regardless, we were safe.

KAUST’s motto has always been “Through Inspiration. Discovery.”  Fortunately for this Inaugural class, “Inspiration” is coming in the form of extravagant events, and until KAUST becomes yet another “Self-Inspiring” university, we can only imagine what grand act awaits us next.  I’ve already put in a request for either stealing the World Cup from South Africa or bringing Michael Jackson back from the dead, whichever costs less.

Pictures from event + Bahrain report coming very soon.

Until then… check it for yourself: http://inauguration.kaust.edu.sa/inauguration/webcast.aspx

Did I mention there’s a symposium tomorrow on sustainability featuring National Science Foundation members, Nobel Laureates, and Hillary Clinton’s aide?

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard the President of our school say “pioneers,” “adventurous,” or “The KAUST Family” in his speeches I’d probably have enough money to endow the next KAUST Project myself… “KAUST 2: Beirut.”  It rings like a new season of The Real World, I like it already.

I bring this up because as the first class of a University, there is a heavier burden of responsibility that lies on the students shoulders than there is with following classes (obviously).  Traditions, formation of student government, and academic standards are just a few key responsibilities that come to mind.  Sure, here at KAUST we’ve been forced to take the roles of: construction supervisor, project engineer, and safety auditor to ensure the ceiling doesn’t fall, twice; but we greet the tasks with bright smiles and full stomachs.

As student unions form, students settle, and classes come into maturity, there remains one balancing act left for KAUST to master; respecting the Saudi culture while simultaneously keeping the open mind that will attract scholars from around the world for years to come.  One Indian friend put it bluntly, calling it a “lose-lose” situation;  suggesting that if KAUST gets too liberal the nation won’t support it, but if it is too conservative it will become just another “Saudified” university.  I’m still ambivalent at this point, “near-beer” in hand.

I’d love to mandate a monthly Umrah to keep everyone happy; allowing the Muslims go to Mecca and the Mexicans to host public dance parties (true story) but don’t think we can afford to have KAUST looking like a federal prison to the visiting eye.  I say this because Muslim men are encouraged to cut their hair when performing the Small Pilgrimage, so we now have about 50 buzzed headed students (out of 350 in total) patrolling campus.  The women are also asked to cut their hair but none of them are bald, I think.

In the mean time, while us “pioneers” work on finding that middle ground, chew on this:

In America when we’re talking about someone and they show up all of a sudden we say, “Speak of the devil.”  In Saudi Arabia, they say “subhan’Allah” (translated into “God is great”).

In Saudi Arabia, one of the most difficult countries to legally visit, once you obtain a multiple entry visa, if you don’t leave the Kingdom within the first three months of obtaining the visa you are fined by the government!  (hint: Get out!)

Next week: Ramadan ends, Eid Holidays in Bahrain (“Saudi Bar”), and the “30-Million-SAR-for-70-Minutes” Inauguration Event we’ve all been waiting for, to watch, I mean.

Every culture has their own way of saying “I Don’t Know.”  Saudi Arabia is no exception to the rule. 

Some cultures are direct, while others are evasive.  Some people are humble, while others too proud.  Then there are those cultures that have clearly out-thought the rest of us, putting matters directly into the hands of God.  The Saudis will forever be known as the masters of this disguise. 

 In Saudi Arabia, there is one phrase that rids one of any fault or blame; and no it has nothing to do with the weather.  The phrase is “Insha’Allah” or “God Willing.” The word choice is so opportune, so appropriate, that not even I can curse the blasted saying without feeling a bit of remorse in this religious haven.

A few examples of how this might, and probably has been used within earshot over the past three weeks (in chronological order mind you):

 “The housing will be ready before school begins, Insha’Allah”

“The air-conditioning will be fixed immediately, Insha’Allah”

“The busted water pipes will be replaced tomorrow, Insha’Allah”

“The textbooks will arrive no later than next week, Insha’Allah”

…You get the idea.

The phrase reminds me of an excerpt from The Geography of Bliss when author Eric Weiner is in Bhutan and learns of a “closed road;” where in Bhutan a “closed road” could mean waiting anywhere from a few minutes, to a few days, to a few months.

Here at KAUST, where cheap labor is only exceeded in abundance in China, it’s often difficult to be patient with the concept of things not getting done in an orderly fashion  (there are people whose job is to open the door for us); but to be perfectly fair, no projects of this magnitude are even functional by day 1000 no matter where it is in the world.  Not to mention projects made to last a lifetime, like KAUST.  Insha’Allah.

The other day, eating lunch in the cafeteria I noticed an unfamiliar face sitting next to me.  At a table full of Mexicans, I assumed the same of this student until he spoke up only to find out that he was in fact Lebanese.  Since Ramadan began, it’s been a menial task recognizing the non-fasting faces on campus but this one seemed to have fallen through the cracks.

Upon discovering Rami’s Middle Eastern heritage, I was quick to bombard him with questions, since NO Muslims cheat during Ramadan (here in the KSA).  It turns out that Rami is a Druze.  I know… what the heck is a Druze?  Pay attention all party dwellers back in Santa Barbara looking for a religion that supports your ‘healthy habits.’

The Druze religion is an outgrowth of Islam, although Muslims disavow it; and rightfully so. Amongst other things, the Druze don’t fast during Ramadan, they party without fearing death (literally), and believe fully in Reincarnation.  Just don’t screw up or you risk being re-born as a dog.

Another point of interest is that the Druze can only marry another Druze, or risk being completely excommunicated from their family.  In comparison, although a Muslim woman must marry a Muslim man; Muslim men are free to marry a Muslim, Christian, or Jew in accordance with Islam.

The only bummer to those who’ve just found their calling… NO ONE can convert to the Druze religion.  I encourage everyone to scour this website on the Druze for more information, as it’s incredibly interesting: http://www.everyculture.com/multi/Bu-Dr/Druze.html.  Also keep your eyes out, because there’s a good chance I’ll be staying with Rami’s family sometime in the near future while exploring the Beirut Nightlife, without the Druze invincibility of course.

Until next time, a bit of Saudi trivia for you: I was curious why the Saudi flag is green, considering the only green in the Kingdom is in the form of fake grass and money (and more money) so I did some research.  It turns out that Saudi Arabia’s flag uses green to honor the country’s puritanical Muslim Wahabi sect, and also because green is widely believed to be the prophet Muhammad’s favorite color! (PBUH)

It was my favorite color at a young age too…