The Boys Are Back In Town

Well, this boy is anyway. Our trip to Asia included a stay in possibly my favourite country, Singapore. Beneath all the clichés like "it's a 'fine' city" or "it's too clean" (hey idiot, do you really want the place to be dirtier?) is an exceptionally well managed country full of hard working, law abiding people. The women can even wear shorts and singlets with no subsequent breakdown in law and order, public lewdness or mass orgies. Watch this space.
Of course clichés are often based on fact. For instance, where else would you be told what to do when driving towards a dead end?



On the flight back to Riyadh we were seated behind three Saudi gentlemen whose behaviour astonished me. It's an example of one of the cultural differences between me and some of the Saudi men that I'm still struggling to get used to. I'm tentatively calling it the "Prince Complex".
When they arrived they rammed their hand luggage into the overhead locker, carelessly throwing around the bags that were already there. Why care about those next to you?
As soon as they sat down they immediately reclined their seats all the way back. Or at least they tried to. The seat in front of me was mysteriously broken and wouldn't recline (I have strong knees.) Why care about those behind you?
Their ghutras came off and were draped carelessly over the seat in front of them. Why care about those in front of you?
Every few minutes they called for the flight attendants because this wasn't right and that wasn't right. I could see the attendant's eyes roll every time they walked away. No one else is as important as me.
When they tried to purchase some perfume and the attendant explained that the airline didn't accept Riyals (Saudi currency) they believed that complaining about it constantly would suddenly change the airline's policy. Don't you know who I am?
Their behaviour cast a cloud over me and the mixed feelings I had regarding my return to Riyadh. I was looking forward to being back home, looking forward to serene Thursday morning shopping, dreading driving on the roads, wondering when I'd next have a nice glass of wine, and finally of course dreading immigration and customs.
I don't really know why I dread them so much. They've never once treated me badly. In fact my experiences with Australian customs and immigration have been far, far worse than my experiences in KSA. Oh and did I mention Indonesia? It’s the only place in the world where the immigration official has asked me for a bribe.
By the time we reached immigration in Riyadh we had been travelling for a very long time. After recently reading KR Khan’s post about customs I was wondering what they'd do with the DVDs we had with us. They were all mainstream movies and TV series and I assumed they contained nothing that would offend. Of course, having not watched them and knowing a little about what can be deemed offensive here I couldn't be absolutely sure.
After the traditional jockeying, elbowing and wrestling at the luggage carousel we picked up our bags and joined the queue for the X-Ray machines.
My mouth went dry.
We were so tired and we just wanted to go home. The last thing we wanted was to have to sit with the customs guys whilst they watched all of our DVDs. I made a mental note to pack some popcorn on our next trip back to Riyadh, just in case.
I hoisted our two suitcases onto the belt and watched them nervously as they made their tiny but crucial journey.
Customs: You! Open that suitcase!
Ahh hells.
Customs: And that suitcase too!
Ahh bollocks!
My mouth went even drier. My tongue seemed to be sticking to the roof of my mouth. I started mentally counting how many DVDs we brought with us. We had four huge TV series that alone would take ages to scan through. Then there were all the movies.
Customs: Show me the bottle!
Me: *mouth stuck shut* Gnunf?
Customs: The bottle! The bottle! Show me the bottle!
Me: Umm?..
My wife calmly searched for the bottles of cooking sauce she'd packed in the suite case.
Mrs Margrave: It's just cooking sauce.
Customs: *hears* It's just squiggle squiggle.
My wife showed him the bottle.
Customs: *reads* squiggle squiggle.
Mrs Margrave: *pointing at the "Cooking Sauce" label* C-o-o-k-i-n-g s-a-u-c-e…
Customs: *hears* s-q-u-i-g-g-l-e s-q-u-i-g-g-l-e...
Customs: Ok.

He wasn't in the least bit interested in our DVDs. They were on top inside the suitcase but the only thing that concerned him was the slightly beer-shaped bottles of cooking sauce. I was very surprised and now assume that they aren't as concerned with married couples' tastes in movies as they are with those of single guys.
Despite the fact that customs was very busy he was actually polite and he even cracked some jokes. Mr Saudi Customs Man, whose name I do not know, I salute you.
It's good to be home.
...
Bloody hell! It's a bit hot, isn't it?!

A Wife: The Ultimate Saudi Accessory

I had to spend two months alone in Riyadh before my wife was able to join me here. I was a lot happier (and less lonely) when she finally arrived. One thing about Saudi then became immediately apparent. It is far better to be a married man in KSA than it is to be a single one.
What with immigration, customs and the Saudi queue (maul) I was expecting hassle and delays when my wife and I arrived together at King Khalid International Airport.
When we got to immigration it was packed. Things did not look good. But I didn’t fully appreciate the impact of my new power-accessory. Thanks to having a female on my arm, we waltzed through the very small “Families Only” queue, leaving an army of single men waiting in long lines.
When we got to customs the queues were long and they were opening and searching all bags. It did not look good. But thanks to my WIFE 1000™ we were ushered to a separate area, our bags were only X-rayed (not opened), and we were swiftly on our way.
Of course, the same can be said about any restaurant, take away or coffee shop in the city, and (seemingly) any police check point on the roads. When you are married you also get to sit in the family section in restaurants which usually means that you get your own private room / area to eat in.
In KSA, married people have a higher status and singles suffer for it. But the lack of respect for family in the UK has meant high divorce rates and large numbers of children growing up in single-parent families. I wonder which attitude towards the family really causes the most suffering.

Freight / Customs

I’ve been worried about my freight arriving since I got to Saudi. I was worried for three reasons:
1) I didn’t expect it to actually arrive,
2) I thought they’d confiscate my DVDs or my PC,
3) I knew that it would be major hassle.
I’d been watching its progress online and was getting worried about the fact it was in Indonesia for about 3 days. I had images of it being left out on the runway in 90% humidity under the baking sun.
When we left Australia we sent freight to Singapore and Riyadh. My wife picked up the freight in Singapore a few days before the rest arrived in Riyadh. She had no hassles at all. You’d think the process would be about the same in Riyadh, right? Ha!
I’d been warned so when it finally arrived I arranged for an Arab speaking driver to come with me to pick it up. Thank god for him because if he had not come with me I think I’d still be there.
Roughly, the process consisted of the following simple steps:
Drive to the airport
Go through security screening
Hand in passport and get a pass
Go upstairs and queue at window 1
Hand in your paper at window 1 and then wait around
Go to window 2 and confirm your details.
Go to window 3 and get a photo copy of a paper they give you (at your expense)
Go back to window 2 and hand in the photo copy
Go back to window 1.
At this point we were directed downstairs and I thought we were done. I’m so naïve.
When we got downstairs a similar process was repeated ad nauseum. We went backwards and forwards from the same two counters so many times I got dizzy. It was bewildering and excruciating.
Whilst we were waiting a customs official insisted on giving me a book called “Understanding Islam”. A gift I was glad to accept, but in those circumstances who would dare turn it down? “I don’t want this stupid book, take it away! Now, can I take my DVDs through customs?” The book is sitting next to me now, staring at me. I think its daring me to not read it.
When I finally saw my boxes my heart sank. My once white boxes were now a dark brown / black colour. They really had been sat on an Indonesian runway for a week!
They were dumped on a big x-ray machine and I knew at this point the fun was going to begin. At this point I should state the obvious, that porno or religious material (other than Islam) is not allowed into KSA. If you are caught with porn you are in trouble. Now I had no porn, but they often confiscate DVDs and even PCs to check them. You get a receipt and you’ll get them back if they are ok, but I did not want the hassle of going through all of this again.
Customs official: “Any cds?”
Me: “No.” thinking “but loads of DVDs so please don’t open the box.”
Customs official goes to open the first box
Me: “But I do have some DVDs!”
Customs official: “Movies?”
Me: “No just my wife’s DVDs, they are TV shows. No movies! No sex!”
Customs official pulls out some DVDs. The first one he looks at is a movie.
Me: “No sex! I watch the movies with my family” etc etc etc
My friendly Arabic Driver:
Customs official: “What is in that other box?” (my PC with all my personal details and more movies, that's what!)
Me: “I can’t remember”
Customs official: “OK, free to go”
Me: *stunned relief*

I don’t remember ever feeling so happy. The weight of the world slipped from my shoulders. This would be the end of the story, were not for the fact that at that point the shutters went down for prayer. So I sat in the dark with my boxes hoping it was all going to end soon.
We got out about an hour afterwards. It seems we still had to make another 5 or 6 trips to the same counters before we could leave. The whole episode took about 2 1/2 hours.
You have to have a deep respect for the patience and stoicism of the average Saudi. Gentlemen, I applaud you.