Margrave vs The Traffic Police pt2

Unfortunately there has not been a happy ending to this story.
As I understand it, there is a telephone number you can call in Saudi to query your traffic fines but it's an Arabic language service and not many expats are aware of it.
Therefore in the past the only way an expat would find out whether he had any traffic violations would be when he tried to leave the country. This is because your traffic violations are checked at the airport / border on exit and if you have any outstanding fines you are not allowed to leave. This results in a mad dash to pay the fines before you miss your flight and you have no time to complain if you feel the fine is unjust.
This is no longer the case. You can now query your Saudi traffic violations online.
I suspect the policeman that stopped me either did not know about this or did not care. This explains why the traffic violation that he never handed to me (for not wearing a seatbelt even though I was) was still processed and I now have a 100 SAR fine.
This of course is thoroughly unfair.
Therefore I've decided to complain. Perhaps nothing will come of it, perhaps something will.
Either way, I will let you know…

Margrave vs The Traffic Police

If you drive on Riyadh's ring road at night you see a large number of cars stopped by unmarked traffic police cars. You don't see a Mercedes or a Porsche stopped. The majority of the cars are pick-up trucks or less expensive cars. Sadly I'm driving the latter kind of car rather than the former.

So it had to happen eventually, didn't it?

Late at night I'm driving home after a very long day at work. I'm doing 115 km/h on the highway where the speed limit is 120 km/h when I notice the car ahead being forced to brake by a weaver. I change lanes to avoid the danger and suddenly a silver car pulls right up behind me, tailgating me with barely a yard's gap. I decide to move back into my original lane to avoid him but he follows me. Suddenly police lights start flashing and I realise he's an unmarked police car. I move into the slow lane to allow him to pass but he follows me! I finally realise that I'm being stopped by the police! Outrage and indignation arrive but are quickly beaten into submission by fear and resignation.
"What on Earth can he be pulling me over for?" I wonder to myself.
I pull the car onto the verge by the side of the highway and he pulls in behind me.
I should explain at this point that in the countries where I've lived if you are stopped by the traffic police you never get out of your car (unless you want to be shouted at). You wait in your car for them to come to you.
It slips my mind that Saudi is different.
I sit in my car.
The policeman sits in his car.
Time passes.
I frown at him through my rear view mirror.
I notice he's fidgeting a bit and I wonder when the hell he's going to come and see me.
He stares at me.
He's probably wondering when the hell I am going to go and see him.
Time passes.
He blasts his police siren.
Realisation dawns and I get out of my car and walk over to him. He winds down his window and I shake his hand.
Me: Salaam!
PO: Salaam!
Me: Err, is there a mushkilla officer? (I apologise to all Arabic speakers for my casual butchering of their language)
PO: Istemarah!
Me: Oh… right… umm…
I walk back to my car, retrieve what I assume is my Istemarah and my driver's license and walk back to the police car. The lights are still flashing. They're almost blinding.
Me: Here you are.
PO: (pointing at my car) Car!
Me: Yes, err, it’s a car. I assume he wants my help to check his English vocabulary.
PO: Car! Car!
Me: Yes, it's my car. Well, it’s a rental actually.
PO: CAR! CAR!!
We look at each other.
Me: Ohhhh! You want me to go back to my car! Right… well… goodbye then.
I walk back to my car with hunched shoulders and sit down. I call my wife to let her know I might be a bit (or perhaps a day) late and squirm impatiently. I make sure the policeman can see I'm using my mobile. A tiny bit of hope suggests he might get worried about who I'm calling.
Perhaps he's sitting in his car wondering if I have powerful wastah.
I sit in my car looking at my phone, wondering if I have powerful wastah.
Damn.
I wonder what the arrest sheet will say.
"Margrave. Pompous git. Arrested for driving a cheap car under the speed limit. Given extra time for bad hair."
Time passes.
More time passes. Note to self: keep a book in the car for just such emergencies.
I look in my rear view mirror. The policeman is chatting on his mobile phone! I wonder who he's talking to. Is he calling his mum to find out when dinner's going to be ready or is he arranging to have a whitey-hating psychopathic prisoner moved to my jail cell?
Time passes. The moon orbits the Earth. Or maybe it's the other way around. Normal laws no longer seem to apply.
Next to me on the highway tailgaters, weavers, swervers, sliders and crazies speed on their merry way.
More time passes. I slowly realise that my chances of waiting this long only to be told that I can go free are very slim indeed. I wonder whether I should have behaved differently. Perhaps deference was a bad decision. Belligerence might have worked. Or it might have put me straight into the back of his car in a pair of shiny new handcuffs.
I look back at him again. My mouth hangs open. He's lighting a cigarette! This is unbelievable! He's sitting there without a care in the world! Is this a post-coital cigarette after royally screwing me? Was it good for him? It wasn't good for me! I wonder whether he'd notice if I just drove home.
I get out of my car and walked back to him.
Me: So... is there a mushkilla, mate?
PO: Car, car! …one minute.
Me: Ohh… only one more minute? Ok...
I walk back to my car once again and drift away. I imagine I'm a Muslim chap in England with a long beard. I've been stopped by the traffic police and I'm sure it’s because I'm a Muslim chap in England with a long beard. The real me commiserates the imaginary me. The imaginary me grins and tells me to get lost.
I fret about what the conditions in the traffic police jail will be like. I realise to my horror that I need the toilet. I need a number two! My imagination starts to conjure up images of the worst police toilets in the world. The sights! The sounds! Oh god, the smells! I think of my "Family Section" photo and beg forgiveness. I cross my legs.
Suddenly behind me he blasts his siren.
I look in my rear view mirror and he looks at me. His lights are blinding. I'm not sure whether he's trying to make contact or just having a laugh.
I get back to worrying about the toilet.
He blasts his siren again.
I try to look at him through the rear view mirror but by now his lights have killed my vision. I open my door and lean out to see if I can see him. I can't.
I wonder if the toilet will have a lock on the door. Will there be toilet paper? Why didn't I learn how to use that hose?
He blasts his siren again.
Finally I get out of my car to see if he is trying to get my attention. He is. He’s now gesticulating angrily. I'm obviously the most stupid person he's ever stopped. At least now he'll have a story to tell at dinner parties.
I walk back to his car and he hands me a small piece of paper. I look at it dubiously.
PO: Ok!
My driver's license is nowhere to be seen.
The red mist begins its inevitable descent.
Angrily I open the piece of paper. It's my Istemarah. The policeman has carefully and neatly folded it around my driver's license. It strikes me as the most considerate and sweet thing anyone has ever done and engenders immediate feelings of warmth towards him.
The feelings don't last long.
He has a yellow piece of paper in his hand. It's a traffic violation!
He looks up at me, yanks his seat belt and says "Seat belt!"
I wouldn't even sit in my car in Riyadh without my seat belt on! I value my life too much! I can't believe he is going to fine me for something I blatantly didn't do and something he blatantly could not have seen from behind me anyway!
Me (outraged): Of course I was wearing my seat belt!
PO (sarcastically): Ohh… "of course"!
Me: Yes, of course!
PO: Ok. Bye bye!
He puts the yellow traffic violation back on his seat and waves me off.
In a daze I walk back to my car, put my seat belt on in the most theatrical manner possible, turn on the engine, indicate and slowly crawl away.
I think it's time to get a nicer car.

Corruption

Our recent trip to Europe included a stay in part of the world I've grown to love, rural Spain. It's a beautiful place with friendly, laid back people.
Unless I actually need some work doing, I like their priorities:
Pablo: We really should finish building that wall.
Manuel: Its 11am already, shall we have a quick beer first?
Pablo: Good idea!
Manuel: That’s why I’m the boss.
Ten beers later…
Pablo: We really should finish building that wall.
Manuel: Well its 1pm, it’s too hot now.
Pablo: Mañana?
Manuel: Mañana.

I used to think the Spanish are bad drivers, but Saudi gentlemen have opened my eyes and changed my traffic manners. So whilst I was driving on a dangerous mountain road in Spain and two men strolled out into the winding road ahead of me I didn't slow down. Instead I beeped my horn and sped up. One man leapt to the other side of the road whilst the other slipped into a ditch.
Had I known at the time that they were the local deputy mayor and the chief of police I may have slowed down. We will never know. Given that they've both been involved in some shady dealings I probably would have taken great delight in going even faster. They clearly expected me to stop and the local people who knew them most probably would do so. Corruption in local government in Spain is allegedly a real problem so who'd want to upset the deputy mayor? Their prince-like behaviour reminded me of those Saudis (not ALL Saudis!) that believe queues and rules only apply to other people.

A while ago a friend of mine was driving back from Bahrain to Riyadh. He drives a nice car. A very nice car. As his family was with him he was driving back carefully, below the 120 km/h speed limit and way below the apparently expected speed of around 180 km/h. This perhaps was his gravest mistake.
A police car pulled up along side them. The two cops inside stared at their nice car. They stared at their white skin. They gaped at their fair hair. They then pulled them over and tried to find an excuse to give them a ticket. They failed, so they wrote them a speeding ticket. They gave them a speeding ticket whilst they weren't even moving.
In Thailand the traffic police corruption could be humourous to us because they'd usually accept about 60 baht (less than USD 2) if they caught us breaking minor traffic laws. In Malaysia it suddenly seemed more sinister because the greedy gits wanted 300 ringgit (USD 88) if you were speeding. Taking a bribe instead of handing out a fine is certainly corrupt and it gets worse the more they want, but to me it is not as bad as punishing someone who is not breaking the law.
My first response upon hearing his story was indignation. How dare they behave like this! Corrupt scoundrels! This never happens in England! …or does it? I'm English and I'm white. Most of the English police are also white. I believe the Saudi police stopped my friend because he was in a nice car, in their country, and the colour of his skin did not match their own.
Perhaps now I better empathise with those minorities in England who complain about police corruption. Just because we don't see it, doesn't mean it is not there.

Pots And Kettles

You Failed Your Driver's Test

You only got 3/10 correct. If you have a driver's license, it needs to be revoked!

Are You a Good Driver?

Crap! Oh well, at least I got three right. I bet a weaver wouldn't even get one. Give it a go weaver, and no, numbers three and four aren't trick questions...

Western Myths #7: Saudis Only Drive New Cars

I cannot remember if I read this on an informational Web site or in the Lonely Planet: “Second-hand cars are expensive in Saudi Arabia because Saudis like to buy a new car at least once every two years.” I am not sure I even understand the logic.
Anyway, having had so many near crashes with hunks of rust swerving across the road at a high velocity (old Hyundai Accent, anyone?) I can safely dismiss this as a myth.
In fact, even though cars are very cheap here, you don’t see many prestige cars. It is probably because people are reluctant to spend money on a nice car that gets scratched and dented moments after being driven out of the showroom.

More Harebrains

An honourable mention for the two harebrains I passed on Thursday who were reversing back up the motorway.
The first one was humourous enough as it was on a long straight stretch of road. I have no idea where he was going because there wasn't an exit in sight.
The second one was even more impressive. Reversing back up a steep hill in the slow lane (not the hard shoulder) around a blind bend on the motorway because you took the wrong turn at the fork.
Genius!

The Tortoise and the Harebrained

I'm now used to driving in Riyadh. I don't mind making the occasional improvised fifth driving lane, I beep my horn so much there's a faded patch on my steering wheel and I accept that the agreed stopping distance at 120 km/h is about two metres.
But there is one thing I refuse to get used to. Whilst they aren't peculiar to Saudi Arabia, Riyadh probably has the worst ones I've ever seen. I'm talking about "weavers." You know, the guys that insist on swinging from lane to lane, putting everyone's lives at risk for no apparent gain.
When I go home via what we call Airport Road (why do you guys have two or three different names for every main road?!) I like to get straight into the fast lane and sit there at whatever speed the guy in front of me is doing.
That's exactly what I was doing the other day when I spotted a ridiculous weaver swerving from lane to lane, cutting everyone off and missing the other cars by mere inches. Why don't the police do anything about these guys?
This weaver was just ahead of me when I joined the road at exit 13. A few junctions later he was still just ahead of me. And by the time he headed for his exit? Predictably, he was just behind me.
Harebrained Idiot.

Evening Rush Hour in Riyadh

Oh alright, it's actually the "Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred Tennyson. But for some inexplicable reason I often think of it when I'm driving home at night...

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

Christmas In Saudi

It's Christmas in Saudi. Only it isn't. Well alright it is, but with no bells on.
In case you don't know, public practicising of any religion other than Islam in KSA is illegal. Therefore this is probably the only country in the world where shops sell traditional Christmas decorations on the sly. If you want Christmas tree decorations for example, you'll find tinsel in one store location and then the baubles on the other side of the store next to the jewellery.
For me it's ironic because let's face it, most people in the West don't consider Christmas to be religious in the slightest, unless they worship capitalism. It's a time to give gifts to loved ones and put on 10lbs. I wonder how many of the people engaged in secret Christmas activity would go to as much trouble back home.
My thanks go to "a major supermarket chain" here, who made me laugh by using Christmas to sell chocolate Easter bunnies (!!) and one of the most fantastic chocolates I've ever seen, a large Santa... sat on a donkey. Either they've confused their Christmas idols, or sleighs are banned. Or given the road toll maybe Santa's just not as stupid as he looks.

Dick Tricking

I have discovered a fantastic new game and it’s the best form of entertainment available in Riyadh (possibly). In KSA there are never any traffic lights on the far side of junctions. So if you pull too far forwards at the traffic lights you cannot see when they turn green. There are two types of dicks that do this:
One is so afraid to be beaten at the lights that he keeps crawling forward until he can no longer see
The other drives down the right turn-only slip road and at the last minute swerves across to stop in front of the rest of us who are politely queuing.
They both annoy me.
As I’ve mentioned before, one thing I do enjoy about driving here is the massive Saudi propensity for beeping. As soon as the light is green you’ll hear multiple car-horns, helpfully telling everyone else what they already know – “hey! The light’s green! Go quickly because someone important is behind you!”
So… if you catch yourself a few rows back at the lights and see one of those dicks waiting beyond the traffic light just beep your car horn whilst the light is still red, then sit back and watch them as they set off like bats out of hell and then immediately stop when they realise they’ve moved too early.
The first time I tried this I managed to get four cars to go at once. I’ve promised myself I’ll stop should anyone get hurt…

Driving - Tailgaters

One thing I hate about driving here is the tailgaters.
On one of my first drives home from work I was doing 120 km/h down the freeway and this imbecile pulled up to a few inches behind me and started flashing his lights so I’d get out of the way. I didn’t. I drove for at least 5km until he finally turned off. The whole thing was ridiculously dangerous and whilst I know I should have pulled over I didn’t want to send him the wrong signal. Why should his idiotic driving be rewarded? What he really needed was a good kicking.
However…. last night driving home on the highway there was this car that pulled in front of me on the fast lane.
You know where this is going.
I pulled up behind him thinking he’d get the hint. We drove for about 1km like this and he still didn’t pull over. Despite the fact it represented everything I hated I decided I’d flash him.
- As I leaned forward for the stick it felt dirty and wrong.
- As I pulled the stick towards me I hated myself for it.
- I pulled the stick.
- My windscreen was suddenly covered with water.
- I retreated in shame.

My unfamiliarity with my new car saved me from becoming one of those flashing tailgating gits, but I am sure it’s only a matter of time.

Driving - The Capitulation

It's been one week. How has my driving changed?

• I assume the minimum speed limit everywhere is 100 km/h.
• I’m fifteen rows back at the traffic lights and they go green. I immediately beep my horn.
• At traffic lights, six inches is the maximum gap between my car and the car in front.
• I suddenly realise I need to turn left. I turn left from the far right lane whilst beeping my horn.
• The slow lane is the middle lane, the overtaking lane is the left lane, and the alternative overtaking lane is the right lane. The “I’m in a hurry today” overtaking lane is the hard shoulder.

Muddy Waters

About two weeks ago though the weather suddenly turned and it’s now quite chilly. It rained yesterday (if you expand your definition of “rain” to include “small blobs of mud falling from the sky.”) I don’t mean a bit of desert drizzle but English summer’s day rain. If you’ve been to the UK you know what I mean, a cold grey day with a bad-tempered dampness that seems to permeate everything. They don’t see rain like this very often and when they do it causes carnage on an impressive scale.
Would you spend millions of dollars of drainage systems if you only got serious rain once in a blue moon? Of course you wouldn’t.
Would you change your insane driving habits just because the roads have turned into water slides? Hell no!
The result is lakes of muddy water and a huge number of car accidents. When you have an accident here you cannot move your car until the police arrive so the roads turn into parking lots and everyone tries to overtake everyone else.
The Saudis can handle it, they seem to have unlimited patience. Hopefully I’ll learn it soon too.

First Drive

I left work at 4pm to pick up my car because I didn't want my first experience driving in Saudi Arabia to be:
a) during Wednesday (the Saudi Friday) rush hour, and
b) in the dark.

Thanks to a typical cock-up followed by a prayer time, I ended up having my first drive:
a) during Wednesday rush hour,
b) in the dark, and
c) from somewhere I’d never been before and with no idea how to get home.

I wasn’t so much relieved that I got home in one piece as I was surprised. Somehow I didn’t even get lost. Thank you, Kingdom Tower!

Driving Me Insane

Riyadh is huge and sprawling. Nondescript buildings are punctuated by the occasional incredibly grandiose shopping mall. Kingdom tower dominates the skyline as the only real skyscraper and can be seen from almost everywhere (it’s very useful when you get lost).
They drive like absolute lunatics here. I cannot emphasise this enough. Don’t think you won’t be surprised by it because you will. They simply create their own lanes and are quite happy turning left from the far right lane and vice versa. My personal favourite though is their liberal use of the car horn. You'll be sat in a huge traffic jam about 40 cars back from the lights but as soon as the light goes green someone next to you will beep their horn. I find it hugely entertaining and I can't wait to give it a go.
On average I see two or three crashes a day. I’m not driving yet, I’m still waiting for my UK driving license to arrive in the mail. As it was sent about two weeks ago I would have thought it would have arrived by now…..