|
Date: June 14, 2004
Location: Eskan Village, Saudi Arabia
So our flight landed in Riyadh
at about 3:00 in the morning, we managed to glide painlessly through
customs, the only pleasant surprise of the trip, and get loaded in a pair of
armored vans for the journey to Eskan Village, aka Eskatraz. This is the US
military living compound in Riyadh, a little slice of the West in the middle
of the Saudi desert. The Saudi reputation for poor driving was evident even
at this late hour - we were passed by a tiny Dodge Neon doing about 180 kmph,
and the
driver, swerving to avoid us, almost lost control and began weaving
erratically before finally recovering just before hitting a wall. And we
passed through an accident scene, flashing lights and cops carrying submachine guns. A bit surreal...
Eskan Village is a laid out much like a small subdivision; wide sidewalks of
rough sandstone tile line asphalt roadways that wend their way through a
neat maze of one and two-story villas. The construction would be familiar to
anyone
who has spent time in New Mexico, Arizona, or any other desert environ -
stucco construction, flat rooftops, and pale paint scheme. Walled patios,
large windows shaded and shuttered. Inside the floors are a mixture of
carpet and marble, the furnishings are dark wood, and each bathroom sports a
bidet as well as a toilet and long, deep tub.
There is a Community Center, where we ate large, delicious meals three times
a day, and a gym, a pool, a grocery store and small department store,
driving range, tennis courts, batting cages. Really, all the comforts of
home, and yet... The Saudi's call it their 'Guantanamo', because we're all
prisoners here - prisoners to our own fear, aka 'force protection' - those
measures we take to avoid becoming casualties in the war on terror.
Seriously, it's kind of silly - way more people die every day of accidents and homicides in most Western countries than do here, but go figure...
Which is why I'm glad to be there no longer - I'm "down-range" in Jubail, a
tiny city on the Arabian (don't say Persian) Gulf. Here, we live in a
lightly guarded compound, roll around the desert in SUV's, go out in town
occasionally, train the Saudi Marines in the use of a wide variety of
weapons, and eat, drink, and make merry on the weekends, which are Thu-Fri
in this country... That's right, Wednesday night = Friday night, Saturday
morning = Monday morning... Wacky.
OK, so that should get you pretty much caught up to where I'm at now...
-- ed.
|
