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By Anne Calcagno. Special to the Tribune. Anne Calcagno is a professor at DePaul University in Chicago.
November 19, 2000
"You won't wear one of those horrible black outfits, will you?"

Donning the ubiquitous abaya--a mobile black tent with two slits for eyes--was not the only problem my friends foresaw, though this, of course, was the symbol to many of everything Saudi. Why did I want to visit what may be the most rigid and gender-segregated Muslim country outside of Afghanistan? A place that had refused Western tourists for decades?

But, precisely! Having been denied entry in the past, how could I not now join one of the first Western tours to the cradle of Islam and the world's greatest oil empire? For this, I was more than willing to hide my hips and limbs in baggy dresses and tie on a head scarf--the suggested dress for women.

I have joined a tour designed expressly for former Aramco employees and families. Brought together for this two-week tour are retired engineers, chemists, geologists, surveyors, plant managers, teachers, home-makers, nurses, doctors--each of whom played some part, however large or small, in Saudi history. I, alone, am an outsider. Some Aramcoans have waited 50 years for this invitation to return.

We would start in the cities, townships and oases along the Arabian (or Persian--to most Americans) Gulf coast, in the flat oil-rich Eastern Province. Next, we would travel inland by train to the conservative capital, Riyadh, a city rich in both ruins and modernity. Subsequently, we would journey southeast, deep into the Rub' al- Khali, the largest continuous sand desert in the world, a region so relentless that even the Bedouin approached it with healthy caution. After this, we would fly all the way across the Arabian Peninsula to the port city of Jedda, known as the "white pearl." Last, we would head to the cool mountainous Asir region, the local vacation land of many Saudis, in the southwest.

Landing in Bahrain, an island country 15 miles off Saudi Arabia's gulf coast and home to one of the major airports of entry, the men don white gowns and women black ones. We stand out like sore thumbs. Our driver spots us: "You have your visa, yes? You must have visa."

His van shuttles us through customs, and we head across the King Fahd Causeway--grand necklaces of light guiding our drive--into Saudi Arabia and our hotels in the Eastern Province city of Al-Khubar.

It is at the Algosaibi Hotel in Al-Khubar that I realize nobody prepared me for the Saudi humor. On my first morning, I ask how much a fax will cost. "Normally, madam, about 15 riyals. But for you--150 riyals," a staffer replies before breaking into a grin. Some women on the tour do choose to wear abayas, and one of our guides soon comes up with a prize for "the most covered" Arabian princess among us.

This playfulness must come from confidence, the knowledge that this technologically modern nation has been built in under 50 years. For outsiders like us, the visions are odd, contradictory and delighting: veiled women speaking into cellular phones, camels being loaded into shiny new Datsun trucks--and joke-telling guides in traditional attire.

On our first day's tour, we visit Saudi Aramco's outstanding Petroleum Exhibit museum, around the corner from the American compound in Dhahran (35,000 Americans work in various fields throughout the country). I become completely immersed in the interactive exhibits that take me deep inside the core of the Earth, out on an offshore rig, then into a geologist's sampling lab. Nearby, on a lumpy hillock, rises Dammam Oil Well No. 7, looking skinny and unimpressive. Here, the first massive quantities of oil were struck in 1938--and sand was made into gold.

That evening after our tour, I hide in my hotel room. I was instructed, before arriving, not to go anywhere alone. Images of the matawwa (religious police) chasing me with sticks hover in my periphery. Plus, I am afraid I will grieve bitterly if I spot child brides or frightened women--reports of which form a significant part of the limited literature on Saudi Arabia available in the U. S.

But when Karla Reynolds--who grew up here when Al-Khubar was "one dusty street, one intersection"--discovers I'm staying in, she steers me to a local hotel shuttle bus, and off we go to explore Al-Khubar's bustling economy.

Wares range from Bedouin antiques to modern gold jewelry. Dangle bracelets are a big item. And rings and neck pendants made to order with one's name spelled phonetically in Arabic. I buy a gold Saudi riyal pendant; it rests around my neck, cool and firm. We grow impressed by all the marble in stores and bathrooms. Even sidewalks--clean enough to eat off--are made of it.

All along, I've surreptitiously studied each veiled Saudi woman within view. I find them impossible to decode. One woman bargains fearlessly in a gold store. A young woman and her husband slowly meander by, smiling and chatting. I do not see my fears confirmed, but I also do not understand the little I can see.

The next morning, on the half-hour bus ride to Ad-Dammam, I can't help noticing how this desert landscape, inhospitable for centuries, is now filled with gated villas, with their sprays of jasmine and bougainvillea and large satellite dishes. Having expected an eternal dryness, fierce sun and dust storms, we become increasingly astonished by the green landscaping extending everywhere, dressing highways and city streets. And what about the winding stone corniches of Al-Khubar and Ad-Dammam, fronted by wide lawns, populated nightly with families reclining on oriental rugs? So much life created out of such a harsh environment.

Saudis enjoy showing off their newest architecture--and technology. There's no better place to do this than at the russet marble and granite state-of-the-art Ad-Dammam Chamber of Commerce and Industry. Our minds have been swimming with the latest captions in the English-language Saudi papers: "Non-Saudis to Own Real Estate," "Foreigners May Open Independent Businesses." Unheard of even a year ago, yet the chamber's president confirms these reports and answers our questions. "Women with independent businesses? We must wait and see. Slowly, slowly."

What impresses and surprises is the caliber of these facilities. Internet access was delayed until about a year ago, yet now that it is public, every computer is up-to-date and utilized aggressively. The chamber is abuzz with businessmen. Strange--the Saudi resistance to change, hand in hand with swift action.

Over lunch I find myself chatting with the very Aramcoans who cemented the Saudi ban on Christian marriages. The culprits are two elegant, tireless octogenarians, Jack and Helen Tweedy. "King Ibn Saud gave us permission to marry on Feb. 4, 1949, with one caveat: `Keep it quiet,'" Jack tells me. A Dhahran airport counter was their altar. The wedding was judicious. However, Jack reveals, "We did provide bountiful champagne. So bountiful that the party continued for three days, unbeknownst to us--we were on our honeymoon." That wild party (alcohol is forbidden in the kingdom, even for visitors) ensured that theirs became the last Christian wedding permitted on Saudi soil. Fifty-one years later, they are showing me their wedding photos.

Later we take a bus one hour north to Ras Tanura--and the beach. . Here, the wind drives sand into our hats, down our collars, behind our sunglasses. Before us stretch the turquoise, cobalt and aqua gulf waters. People in our group toss off their shoes and run into the water up to their ankles. "I swam here as a child," one former expatriate tells me, her eyes going wet. "My whole childhood is right here." There are lifeguards, too, but women cannot swim. Women are also not allowed to swim in the hotel pools. I wonder if, in Saudi Arabia, water presents the most confusing temptation.

By now, emboldened by stories from fellow travelers and a few independent forays, I'm ready for our visit to Al Hufuf, an ancient central trading stop in the huge Al-Hasa oasis.

Our principal target is its famous souk, an open-air market sporting well-priced brassware, spices, falconry equipment, clothing--and some remarkable antique vendors I zero in on like a dart. Each of us is now an independent haggler, plunging into stalls. I leave victorious, clutching an old Bedouin child's shirt, so amply beaded it weighs six pounds, and three hand-embroidered masks, one more interwoven and colorful than the next.

At the far end of the souk stands Qasr Ibrahim, a 19th Century Turkish fort constructed during the Ottoman occupation. It has garrison quarters, jails, baths, watch towers and a tall, cool mosque, built in 1566, that drops light around us in patterned shafts.

We leave behind the lush palms and greenery, driving back into the infinite sand starkly intersected by our asphalt highway. Yet within minutes, I am clicking photos out my window at tall outcroppings connected like a series of spires in a bumpy row. "Sandy limestone," a former Aramco geologist tells me. "It's what's left from the ancient shallow sea bed laid down 50 to 60 million years ago." We are on the very edge of the Ghawar oil field, the largest oil field in the world, and he sees dips in the sand, indicating the kind of domes that have trapped oil--and gave explorers the idea that oil might be here.

The next day, we board an early morning train headed a few hours inland to the capital of Riyadh. The blinding, white-gray monotony of the flat central plateau is broken now and then by more dramatic eroded limestone formations. Then more yellow-gray sand until we reach Riyadh, which, as one travel brochure describes it, "rises from the desert like a high tech oasis of glass, steel and concrete."

At the train station, we immediately board a bus going to the prized camel market outside Riyadh. It is the camel that provided the sustenance, travel and trade that made these sands habitable. But what a screeching racket they make! Plus, try staying on one. We're offered short rides for small fees. Suddenly, I am swung up and over--I have managed to bypass the hump. I clutch the camel's neck, a camel driver yanks my leg back and I head off for a brief terrifying jaunt.

Next--still on the outskirts of Riyadh--come the legendary ruins of Dir'aiyah, a walled citadel settled in 1446, and the first capital of the royal Al-Saud family. We wander maze-like paths into what were once male reception quarters, then through women's sleeping quarters where elaborately perforated walls permitted light and air while protecting privacy. The walls are made of cow dung, mud and hay; the roofs of interwoven fronds with beams of palm trunk. Brightly painted doors are a decorative trademark of this citadel and region.

In 1932, Riyadh became the kingdom's capital. At its very center is the Masmak Fort conquered by the future king and unifier of Saudi Arabia, Abdul Aziz Al-Saud, in 1902. A religious and historical site, it is a conservative place, with more military than we have seen before--and the only place where we are harassed.

An old man gesticulates and yells, apparently demanding that our group leave the old Dira souk. The vendors usher us away from him, and I'm grateful because this, of all souks, I find most amazing. Riyadh's gold souk is quite famous, but my addiction is for disorganized antique treasure troves, and here I locate a lovingly worn dillah (long-spouted coffee pot), fantastically beaded headdresses and delicately enameled brass plates.

Last in our too-short day-trip comes the incredible Riyadh National Museum. Surrounded by gardens and gleaming granite walkways, this museum opens onto vast galleries, with vivid displays and dioramas on the peninsula's archeology, the history of Islam and Arabic life. We hate to leave.

The Empty Quarter, as it is called, was one of the last regions on earth to be explored by Westerners. It has sometimes gone a decade without rain. Yet a good chunk of Saudi Arabia's oil reserves is right here.

Deep in the southeastern portion of the Empty Quarter is Aramco's newest oil field, Shaybah. Yet the marvel of engineering that this site represents pales compared to the surrounding landscape. A chartered airplane takes us here, flying for an hour high above sand. After landing in Shaybah, I stare at an infinite horizon of big soft orange sand mountains, the sky the most brilliant definition of indigo. Dunes weave in an endless hallucination; the color russet braids patterns with tans. The enormity of this place invigorates us despite the 108-degree heat; half the sweaty group dashes up the slope of the highest dune, to grasp an endless panorama, undulating, infinite, mesmerizing, musical. I, who have mistakenly worn open sandals, experience the sand meeting my foot, keen as fire.

For the next leg of our tour, we fly over most of the Arabian Peninsula to Jedda, Saudi Arabia's major port on the Red Sea. For centuries it has been the gateway for millions of devout Muslims on their hajj (pilgrimage) to nearby Mecca, where the Prophet Muhammad was born. (Saudi Arabia is home to Islam's two holiest sites, Mecca and Medina, but both are off-limits to non-Muslims.)

Jedda is actively working to preserve the old city within its ancient walls. We walk the winding alleys, staring up at the amazing woodwork that marks this city's famous balconies and windows (mushrabiyah) that permit the seaside breezes to flow in, while keeping rooms shadowed, cool and, of course, private. We come upon the four floors of the remarkable Naseef House, where Abdul Aziz once resided. A tree outside was, as recently as the 1920s, the only tree in Jedda. The stairs inside were built to accommodate camels bringing in supplies.

Another feature of Jedda is its extensive display of modern art, appearing along miles of corniche fronting the Red Sea. Nearly a hundred non-representational sculptures make these pathways a public art park. Some of us, who would prefer to plunge in entirely, slip off our shoes and walk the edge of the Red Sea waters.

For our last big adventure, we fly to the Asir region in the far southwest, near Yemen. Asir was described to me as "a little Switzerland," a somewhat strained reference to the many Swiss-made cable-car lines and the peaks and valleys they connect. Here, in Asir National Park, mountains flow and tumble like enormous green gowns to the Red Sea.

In the morning we pull ourselves away from the luscious Abha Hotel to be bused to Al-Soudah and Saudi Arabia's highest mountain, Jebel Sawdah (or Mt. Sawda; 9,824 feet). We're madly snapping photos of the sumptuous mountains that represent the other half of East Africa's Rift Valley when we're greeted by a family of local Hamadryas baboons. Our guide protectively ushers us into the cable cars.

These lead down to the Aloos Valley, where we tour the Alma Heritage Museum and its displays of traditional Asir wares. Outside in the crisp, cool air, an old guard performs a traditional dance for us, to our joy, before a sudden hailstorm hits. "Not in three years has something like this happened," our guide accuses us, with a smile, as we eagerly photograph clusters of surprised wet baboons.

Very different are the next day's sights in the Salah region of the park. Here we are shown the remains of a hanging village that existed until the 1980s. Located on a 1,000-foot ravine facing a broad valley, its inhabitants used ropes to lower people and goods while keeping themselves protected from invaders. Partial stone lodgings remain. We spot burial tombs lodged deep into the cliff face. With the human story closed, the landscape overtakes us: birds, bees, flowers and trees preside--more than anywhere else in Saudi Arabia.After our three-day excursion to Asir, we return to the Eastern Province before returning home. On my next to last evening, I join a group headed for the women's shopping mall in Ad-Dammam. Here, only women are allowed, and headdresses and abayas can be removed.

Wandering on my own, I discover a stationery store full of children's books, stickers and puzzles in Arabic. One book illustrates a boy's cleansing preparations for Islamic prayer. I buy this for my small son. A woman taps me on the arm, and asks: "You, Muslim?" She has long luscious brown hair falling over one shoulder and delicate, wondering brown eyes. She is pregnant and pushing two sons in a double stroller.

I nod. Between hand gestures and scattered English she conveys that her husband has studied in the United States. I gesture my own explanation that I am a mother and writer. I am so happy that this Saudi woman has made the effort to approach me that I am bursting out of my skin.

Soon we part, limited by our inability to speak each other's languages. But 10 minutes later, she is in front of me, handing me a slender box, a gift of pens--for the writer. She says: "This is so you can think well of Saudi Arabia when you leave."

GETTING THERE
Though I heard of couples who managed to travel without a tour, at this point such travel is extremely difficult and largely unwelcome. Three U.S. tour agencies are officially approved to offer travel to Saudi Arabia. It is highly advisable to select one of these, because they are sponsored by Saudi Airlines, plus their contacts within the Saudi Kingdom are invaluable. To beat the worst heat, favored tour times are October-November and January-February. The average two-week tour, with all-expenses included, costs $7,000-$8,000. Unfortunately, as of yet, handicap accessibility to sites is limited.

The ardent and intrepid tour operator who brought the first American group into Saudi Arabia is Peter Voll. His specialty is leading not-for-profit and educational groups such as the Smithsonian Study Tours (877-338-8687; www.si.edu/tsa/sst), but he also hired the first woman to manage a tour in Saudi Arabia. Culturally and eco-tourism aware, his passion for the Arab world is infectious.

Peter Voll & Associates (or PVA) Travel Planning, 2600 El Camino Real, Suite 609, Palo Alto, CA 94306-1705; 800-795-5700, ext. 14, or 650-812-7360; www.pvatravel.com.

The usual fare is Middle-Eastern food. This includes dates, tabbouleh, rice, roasted meats or fish, hummus, flat bread and honey-filled pastries. Pizza, fried chicken and Chinese food are other choices. Tour leaders can generally recommend local restaurants. Others places can be ferreted out of the Lonely Planet guide to the Arab Gulf States. A simple dinner ranges from $5 to $25. Absolutely no alcohol is served or permitted.

Our group was required to dress conservatively, with a scarf or other head covering "requested" for women; some groups require women to wear abayas. In general, one must travel with the tour group to pre-ordained sites, though in large cities and in every souk, we roamed independently. Twice, I took evening walks in the public gardens. With my clothes discreet and my head covered, I found no one bothered me. Other women who did not cover their heads did receive catcalls.

Never photograph an Arab without permission and absolutely never a woman. Never enter a mosque, and always respect prayer times, though these occur sometimes right in the middle of a shopping transaction. Though this is not usual, single women under 40 may have trouble obtaining visas and should discuss this in advance with the tour agency.

Current rather overdramatized reports suggest that as you enter and exit Saudi customs even books get confiscated. Saudi travel guides may be rare, but on our tour, so were confiscations. The most unnerving Saudi custom was the predictable airport body search, conducted by ardent officers of the passenger's same gender. Any traveler sympathetic to Diana Ross' reaction to searches would well be advised to expect these.

Saudi Arabia offers a range of shopping options from glamorous granite shopping malls cool with air conditioning, to independent small stores evidencing the temperaments and tastes of their individual owners, to the bustling outdoor souks, or marketplaces, where one gets the best prices. Bargaining is considered appropriate, even desirable in the souks, but not in many stores. Even souk vendors can be firm about the price on a particularly antique or extensively handworked piece. I highly recommend the well-established, well-stocked, and English-speaking Desert Designs Trading Establishment on Prince Mohammed Street in Al-Khobar.