That being said when it comes to Saudi Arabia, my efforts to assimilate have been weak. Until today, I had actually only used the facilities off compound in Allah's land once and that was when completing my urine test at the local clinic. For any of those of you who are regular readers of this blog, you will remember that that incident ended tragically with the majority of the sample being on my abaya. There are western toilets as well as squatty potties here (which not to brag, but I am the master of), but my hesitancy comes with how filthy the bathrooms are here, the lack of toilet paper, the difficulty maneuvering in an abaya and hijab and the confusion on how to use the water hose (also known as a bum gun) that is used for cleaning oneself.
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| This is your standard Saudi squatty potty with bidet hose (aka Bum Gun) |
Well, today was a cultural lesson indeed! Every couple of weeks, my husband will be kind enough to take me to the local mall/grocery store to stock up on meats, dairy products, produce, and bakery items that I cannot find on at the compound's commissary. I get dressed, do my makeup, and hair, and then throw on my black potato sack of an abaya and try to somehow get the hijab to stay on my head and not expose any of my neck or back flesh or, heaven forbid, my blonde hair. Going out into town with Paul is my favorite and my least favorite activity here. I like it because going grocery shopping and walking around a place that is not surrounded by barbed wire and guards with guns feels a bit like a normal life, However, I also find it exhausting because I am not yet used to the cultural differences here such as people staring at me, children behaving as if they were raised in the jungle by rabid wolves, and the apathy of people in customer service jobs.
From time to to time on these outings, we will go to McDonalds. McDonalds is actually the only "restaurant" I have been to off the compound in Saudi Arabia. Back in the United States, I rarely, if ever, ate at McDonalds. In fact, I think I would have been ashamed to admit if I ever did eat there. But, here it seems like the greatest treat ever. Every pink-slime chicken nugget I taste, is a little piece of home, and it is the one food, I know will be consistent (or so I thought). After today's incident, I doubt we will be going on a nugget date again anytime soon.
We arrived at the mall right after Dhuhr prayer*. We made our way to the food court, ordered our McDonald's, and then ate in the food court among the women in veils eating their food by slightly lifting their veils so their fork or french fry could find its way to their mouths without revealing their faces. Children ran around screaming and knocking over chairs. People left their trash on the tables, chairs, or threw it on the ground. A couple of women sat on the floor in the corner with a finger pointed towards the ceiling and their other hand outstretched begging for money . It was a normal Saudi lunch at the mall. I did notice that my last nugget tasted a bit off, but I just dipped it more bbq sauce, smiled at Paul and exclaimed how much I loved eating at McDonalds in Saudi Arabia. After lunch, we walk around the corner in the mall went to the Panda (the big grocery store chain here). We requested our typical pieces of veal carcass ground and in roast form from the meat counter and made our way to the produce and dairy section. It was then, that I started to sweat and have chills. By the time we were arguing over which of the three choices of rubber tasting mozzarella to purchase, my stomach was cramping and the nausea had set in. I had no other choice but to use the public restroom.
I pretty much ran out of the Panda into the mall. As I had never used a public restroom in this country, I had no idea how to find one. I had to stop and sit twice because I was afraid I was going to vomit and my husband had told me it was illegal to vomit, even if on accident, in public in Saudi Arabia. After what was only like 30 meters but felt like the length of a marathon, the signs for Women's prayer room, fitting room**, and toilet pointed back towards the food court where this whole problem began. I had always assumed that the prayer room, fitting room, and toilets would be in separate areas, but here at the mall, you entered into the prayer room and fitting room and had to walk through it to get to the toilets. A woman was knelt on her ornate mat praying on one side of the entrance, while a few feet from her a couple of younger women tried on their short dresses in the fitting room, giggling as they looked at themselves in the large broken mirrors. As soon as I got to one of the two western toilets, got inside and locked the door, I realized I had not brought toilet paper today. "It is ok," I thought, "You Arwen are a world traveler, you can use the bum gun". I took off my abaya and head scarf to avoid any more potential crisis. As there were obviously no toilet seat covers, I was thankful for the leg strength I had acquired the last few months through PiYo as squatting was a necessity. I had only been in the stall for about two minutes when a little boy started banging on the door. I said, "occupied" in English because I only know like three Arabic phrases. I know he heard me, but being a little terror, he still insisted on lying on the floor and sliding under the stall. Upon gazing at a western woman not wearing an abaya or hair covering with blonde hair squatting over the toilet, the child's expression took a quick turn from mischievous to traumatized. There were more voices outside the stall door and finally he slipped back under so I could have the privacy I thought I had guaranteed by locking the door. After a few minutes, I began to feel a bit better and the nausea had subsided enough that I thought it would be safe to attempt to leave the restroom. There were ants all over the wall and especially on the hose. I felt like Indiana Jones when he had to put his hand into that dark crevice filled with bugs in order to save the day. I turned the water on and nothing happened. I tried at least ten times to turn that stupid hose on in vain before I gave up and started to try to problem solve my situation. The obvious choice would be a sock, but I was wearing sandals. I was not about to sacrifice my hello kitty leggings, my hanky panky underpants, or my shirt or bra. I could of used the head scarf, but I did not want to walk past the lady praying without my hair covered. I looked through my tiny purse and all I had was lip gloss and my grocery list written on a large yellow piece of legal paper.
I did what I had to do and then put my Abaya back on and messily threw my scarf around my head. There was no soap or mirrors at the sinks, so after "washing" my hands, I went into one of the fitting rooms to fix my hijab. The praying lady, the teenagers, and the ill-mannered little boy and his family were no longer in the Prayer Room/Fitting Room/Toilet combo facility. This was extremely lucky for me, for as soon as I got into the fitting room, I notice brown streaks smeared all across the cracked mirrors. I tried to pretend it was chocolate, but the very obvious smell of feces hit me before I could escape from its presence. Despite all of my attempts not to throw-up, I project vomited all over the pooped smeared glass. I then hastily fled the scene of my crime and walked back to the Panda feeling much better.
Paul was still in line to purchase the groceries when I got to the Panda, so I sat on a chair outside waiting for him as I felt I should not take my bio-hazardous self into a place where people buy food. When he finally came out, he asked me how the experience was, knowing how obsessed I am with cleanliness. I looked at him through the crazed eyes of someone who has seen too much and whispered stoically, "I will tell you in the car".
Let this be a lesson to you all, that the most important item to ever have on you when you travel is toilet paper and never to trust a funky nugget.
* Note to any future travelers to Saudi Arabia. The most part of stores and restaurants in Khamis Mushait do not open until after Dhuhr. If you are hungry at 11:00am. Just eat at home.
**There are not fitting rooms in the clothing stores in Khamis. You purchase your clothing items (in either the female only or male only line) and then there are fitting rooms in the bathroom, should you want to try on and then return if it is not the correct size.
