Honeys ! We're home !

Not that we're counting down or anything but that was the final shopping weekend in Riyadh before, well, you know.

We trawled a couple of the malls, from Claire's Accessories to Harvey Nich's. Nobody get excited ! Just passing through yáll.

We tasted Turkish one night. You know I love hummus! We were not disappointed with the flatbread giving you the hint of the oven floor. That doesn't sound as good as it was meant to. I'm trying to allude to the hint of fire!

No Stephen, I do not mean burned bread ! Phillestine ! (Next stop, Spelling Bee)

In the evenings, the streets seem more exciting ! People stopping to meet and greet; the impatient cars sounding off as they queue to drop their passengers at the door; the heavy scents enveloping you as you enter, telling you to slow down, take your time.

Inside you join the preamble (?!) around each floor, skirting the crying toddlers trying to ride the escalators with their older siblings on 'kid' duty, their parents leisurely discussing, shopping needs, without breaking stride, he proud in pristine white, she mysterious in floating black, intricately henna'd hands drawing the veil forward.

Polly and I once walked through Tiffany's in Singapore, pretending to be Holly Golightly.
I had no accomplice with me this time to stop and finger the fabulous designer ball gowns in H.N.
Stephen is not awestruck by such fripperies.

There are very few female shop assistants and no opportunity to try on before you buy. You're best bet is to take it to the nearest toilets to try on and take it back if need be. Do they do this with the fabulous ballgowns? Do you think anyone with that kind of money ponders, points and has them delivered at her convenience?!

The libido on these men out here must be shocking to live with !

Having said that, I did see a video the other night taken of a young Western girl speeding around on her quad bike and being chased loudly and furiously by young men dressed in the white robe careening along in their cars. Is it not to be expected ?!

The computer age must be affecting this enclosed state. After all, it's out there for all to see !

We didn't get to catch up with anyone in Riyadh due to the 'flu' doing it's rounds. That's the last thing we need now!

So the drive back flowed along effortlessly for us in the back with our sewing, (!), books and ipods.
Nothing to do but view Riyadh's forty shades of grey. Everything is painted concrete; blue grey,; green grey; brown grey; pink grey; grey grey. There are lots of new builds; homes, shops, offices sprouting along the way. Architectural style is everything from Arabic, Indian to American/English with patches of desert in between.

Riyadh has the American slick glamour of Vegas at night and in the morning the light, dry, parched, dusty, rusty desert.

As we pass through the police checkpoint on the highway out of town we witnessed the herds of camels, black and white, grazing on goodness know what; the arrid, flat, pinky red desert against the misty grey blue flat sky. Just like a child's drawing.
The old white grey lorries plastered in arabic script with tankers bearing signs on the back like. BE AWAY 100 FEET. DANGER.

The features on this flat landscape are the electricity pylons striding into the distance; odd bits of grey green scrub like fluff on the sands interspersed with discarded tyres; a dirty white tent here and there; a collection of half built breeze block buildings and the rusty remains of mangled cars.

Stephen passed the time with Woody Guthrie while I found a gentle soothing Beethoven piece on violin. Nothing too excitable.

You know you're nearing Site 3 as you start to pass the low continuous hedges of white grey rubble dumped along the verge from the de-construction of the works.


So did I tell you our driver is a look-a-like for Charles Bronson? !

So he could have been a fillum star, . . . and he could have been . . . a driver from Buraidah called Pollarca, hona lua hey, okay !

I watch way too much telly.