This week I was in Phuket, Thailand. This was my second trip to Thailand, but my first visit to Phuket. The flight there was long. I flew Jeddah-Dubai-Bangkok-Phuket. In Dubai I had to fortuitous opportunity to crash in the Emirates First Class lounge (as it turns out, my manager’s brother works for the airline and while I was flying cattle class, at least I was able to wait for my next flight in style.
The arrival in Bangkok was less relaxing. Upon arrival I was greeted by one of the Emirates staff with a placard that had my flight information on it. She looked me, quite exasperated, and said “you have 20 minutes to make your flight!” What? I thought I had like an hour! Ok, where is my flight leaving from? “The other side of the airport. You’d better run.” And run I did, like 900 m, from one end of the airport to other, with a short stop for immigration in between. I arrived at the gate, panting for air, and the gate was pretty much empty. My flight was not, in fact, scheduled to leave for another 45 minutes. Oh well, at least I got some semblance of a work out.
Phuket is lovely. I was staying at a hotel in Phuket town, which is not near the beach. It’s actually about 45 minutes from the beach, much to my disappointment. I was fortunate that there were several KAUST people at the conference I was attending (they were presenting, I was sitting outside at a KAUST table, in the shadows).
I did meet many of the KAUSTians for dinner on the night of my arrival and we went out to watch some of the soccer matches. We found an English pub to watch the Germany game (three of the people I was with are German) and watched them lose. The Italian and I were trying not to laugh too hard. We then had dinner at a local restaurant where I was able to rekindle my love for Thai food. Green curry, shrimp, soup, papaya salad… yum.
The next day we went to the beach. Yes, we took a 45-minute tuk-tuk taxi ride to Kata beach, because “cata has to go to Kata beach” (they thought they were being so clever). At that was everything there is love about Thailand. The water was clear, people were surfing, families enjoying the sun, tourists, and locals all intermingled in a very relaxed environment of fun, sand, sea, and more Thai food
Then, day one of the conference. I woke up early, and set up the table. I was surprised to see conference attendees with their children in tow. I guess Coral Reef conservation is family affair after all. Although, I can’t imagine a conference (even with pretty pictures of fish) would be fun for a child, but then again, maybe they have different sensibilities than I did as a child (or even now). I have to say that “manning the table” at these conferences is really quite boring. I basically get to sit at a table and smile like a moron at everyone that walks by. Most of these people look very confused when I try to make eye contact and even though I have all of this great stuff to give away, they are looked almost scared to approach the table. Maybe, it’s me. Maybe, it’s KAUST. Who knows?
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Primping and Prepping...
Today I went to get my legs waxed. This might not seem terribly exciting but it got me thinking about a couple of things.
First off, I thought about the torture that women subject themselves to (I mean who really wants to have hot wax applied to your skin and ripped off with a piece of cloth?). However, as a woman who does subject herself to such torture, I must admit that I have a love/hate relationship with the whole ritual. Perhaps I have been brainwashed by society into thinking that one standard of beauty applies, and that standard is hairless legs, but regardless, there is nothing quite like walking out of the salon and feeling like your legs look like a million bucks (even when in reality they are covered in a million little red dots). I also really like the idea that someone else (who can actually see the back of my legs) is making sure that every last piece of unwanted hair has been removed. I do not like the pain that comes with the removal of hair in what must seem to many like a barbaric thing to do to yourself, but in truth the pain subsides and after a while all you can focus on are those shorts you haven't worn in a while because you "couldn't" (that is, of course, if you are allowed to wear shorts at all).
Secondly, I thought about the beauty parlor itself. Beauty parlors in Saudi are quite interesting. First off, they have no windows (or all of the windows have been covered) which makes you almost feel like you are walking into a cave. The reason the block out their windows is so that the women inside could "uncover" (meaning remove an abaya, hijab or niqab) if they so choose without having to worry about the prying eyes of men. To me it just adds to this odd feminine mystique that is all things Saudi. Women are not supposed to do anything to attract the attention of men, they are not meant to look attractive so that men will not have impure thoughts about them. Thus the covering of windows at a beauty parlor. I mean, heaven forbid that men think of a woman making herself look nice, even less getting her legs waxed, that would have him thinking about her legs!!! Oh dear. So then, why have a beauty parlor at all? Ah, well that is so that women can get all nice and pretty for each other and for their husbands.
Finally, I though about the women who work in the beauty parlor. Beauty parlors are probably the only retail place you will find women working (with the exception of very few lingerie stores). This is of course, because the women will be in "indecent" situations while in the beauty parlor and as such only other women should be allowed to see. The women that I've met who work there are not from Saudi, they come from places like the Philippines or India. In both cases they are women who are on fixed contracts for two years and have left family (and even children) back home to make money here in the Kingdom. I can't even imagine what that must be like. These are women that are not allowed to take a day off (unless they are very, very ill) and basically shuttled from one cave (their segregated houses) to another cave (the windowless beauty parlor). They are soft spoken and clearly very afraid to speak their minds. It does not take much to imagine how homesick they must be and how hard it must be for them to be working in a country that considers them the lowest of the low (one for being women and two because of where they are from and what they do). People who work in the service industry are poorly treated in this place and it shows on their faces.
When I think about how much harder these women have it, it makes me ashamed to complain. But I guess in the end we are all dealing with many of the same problems. We are all learning to live and work in a country and within a culture that is completely foreign to us and where no one really wants to take the time to explain. So it' up to us to navigate (sometimes with no map or compass) the vastness that is living in Saudi, while desperately reminding ourselves that it will all be worth it in the end.
First off, I thought about the torture that women subject themselves to (I mean who really wants to have hot wax applied to your skin and ripped off with a piece of cloth?). However, as a woman who does subject herself to such torture, I must admit that I have a love/hate relationship with the whole ritual. Perhaps I have been brainwashed by society into thinking that one standard of beauty applies, and that standard is hairless legs, but regardless, there is nothing quite like walking out of the salon and feeling like your legs look like a million bucks (even when in reality they are covered in a million little red dots). I also really like the idea that someone else (who can actually see the back of my legs) is making sure that every last piece of unwanted hair has been removed. I do not like the pain that comes with the removal of hair in what must seem to many like a barbaric thing to do to yourself, but in truth the pain subsides and after a while all you can focus on are those shorts you haven't worn in a while because you "couldn't" (that is, of course, if you are allowed to wear shorts at all).
Secondly, I thought about the beauty parlor itself. Beauty parlors in Saudi are quite interesting. First off, they have no windows (or all of the windows have been covered) which makes you almost feel like you are walking into a cave. The reason the block out their windows is so that the women inside could "uncover" (meaning remove an abaya, hijab or niqab) if they so choose without having to worry about the prying eyes of men. To me it just adds to this odd feminine mystique that is all things Saudi. Women are not supposed to do anything to attract the attention of men, they are not meant to look attractive so that men will not have impure thoughts about them. Thus the covering of windows at a beauty parlor. I mean, heaven forbid that men think of a woman making herself look nice, even less getting her legs waxed, that would have him thinking about her legs!!! Oh dear. So then, why have a beauty parlor at all? Ah, well that is so that women can get all nice and pretty for each other and for their husbands.
Finally, I though about the women who work in the beauty parlor. Beauty parlors are probably the only retail place you will find women working (with the exception of very few lingerie stores). This is of course, because the women will be in "indecent" situations while in the beauty parlor and as such only other women should be allowed to see. The women that I've met who work there are not from Saudi, they come from places like the Philippines or India. In both cases they are women who are on fixed contracts for two years and have left family (and even children) back home to make money here in the Kingdom. I can't even imagine what that must be like. These are women that are not allowed to take a day off (unless they are very, very ill) and basically shuttled from one cave (their segregated houses) to another cave (the windowless beauty parlor). They are soft spoken and clearly very afraid to speak their minds. It does not take much to imagine how homesick they must be and how hard it must be for them to be working in a country that considers them the lowest of the low (one for being women and two because of where they are from and what they do). People who work in the service industry are poorly treated in this place and it shows on their faces.
When I think about how much harder these women have it, it makes me ashamed to complain. But I guess in the end we are all dealing with many of the same problems. We are all learning to live and work in a country and within a culture that is completely foreign to us and where no one really wants to take the time to explain. So it' up to us to navigate (sometimes with no map or compass) the vastness that is living in Saudi, while desperately reminding ourselves that it will all be worth it in the end.
Monday, June 7, 2010
In Preparation for Landing...
... in Africa, there are many preparations that need to take place when one is getting ready to go on safari. In most cases, these steps would be considered a bit of a nuisance to get done but would not really cause much problems. I, however, do not live in the world of "most cases," I live in Saudi. And as I have discovered, things in Saudi have their own way of working.
After getting my yellow fever vaccine in France, the doctor there asked me what I was going to do about preventing malaria. To be perfectly frank, I had figured, I grew up in countries with malaria and never had a problem so I hadn't really planned on anything, but I told the good doctor that I wasn't sure. "You have to get a prescription for anti-malaria pills. They are a must for someone going on a trip like yours." Ok, I thought, I'll ask the doctor in Saudi when I get back. That seemed to put the doctor at ease and he let me go.
Upon arrival at KAUST I called the clinic and made an appointment to get my anti-malaria pill prescription. I showed up on time, paid in advance for my consultation and patiently waited for the doctor to see me. She called me into a room where I sat on a chair and explained that I was going on safari in Tanzania and I needed anti-malaria pills. "When are you leaving?" she asked. I told her my flight leaves the 24th. "Good! You are the first person to ask for these pills in time." Great! So she explained to me that what she was prescribing for me was a pill I needed to take once a week, starting two weeks before my trip, during the length of my trip, and eight weeks after my trip. So a total of 12 weeks of medication. Sounds like a lot of poison, I thought, but ok. She pulls up my file on her computer and notes "Patient going on safari. Prescribed X drug for malaria prophylaxis."
So I go to the pharmacy, get my prescription and go to work. At work, I go online, just to make sure that the doctor has given me the right medication (as I've mentioned in previous posts, the health care system in Saudi is well... not perfect. Fortunately it is also very cheap...). Well, good thing I did. According the CDC website, the main ingredient in the pills she had prescribed was the one thing the malaria in Tanzania is resistant to. So I call the clinic again and ask to speak to the doctor. I explain to the doctor that I have looked up the pills on the CDC website and that I can't take these pills because the malaria in Tanzania is resistant to them. "Oh, you're going to TANZANIA! In that case, can you come back? I can prescribe something else."
I excuse myself from work, go back to the clinic and see the doctor again. She had also pulled up the CDC website and was trying to figure out which of the medicines they recommend is actually available in Saudi. Fortunately, there is one. She tells me that I will have to start taking this pills two days before my trip and take them everyday while on the trip and for four weeks after I return. She pulls up my chart on her computer and adds a note in my file that says "Patient going to Tennessee, with medication X resistant malaria, prescribing medication Y." I didn't realize that Tennessee was in Africa, much less that it had drug resistant malaria, but I figured I'd let that one go.
At least the medication I have now is on the CDC website as something I should be taking. It also, however, says that this medication can cause nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to sunlight, and in some cases can cause severe allergic reactions, vision changes and discoloration of teeth. And it's not even guaranteed to prevent malaria! So, we'll see how this goes.
After getting my yellow fever vaccine in France, the doctor there asked me what I was going to do about preventing malaria. To be perfectly frank, I had figured, I grew up in countries with malaria and never had a problem so I hadn't really planned on anything, but I told the good doctor that I wasn't sure. "You have to get a prescription for anti-malaria pills. They are a must for someone going on a trip like yours." Ok, I thought, I'll ask the doctor in Saudi when I get back. That seemed to put the doctor at ease and he let me go.
Upon arrival at KAUST I called the clinic and made an appointment to get my anti-malaria pill prescription. I showed up on time, paid in advance for my consultation and patiently waited for the doctor to see me. She called me into a room where I sat on a chair and explained that I was going on safari in Tanzania and I needed anti-malaria pills. "When are you leaving?" she asked. I told her my flight leaves the 24th. "Good! You are the first person to ask for these pills in time." Great! So she explained to me that what she was prescribing for me was a pill I needed to take once a week, starting two weeks before my trip, during the length of my trip, and eight weeks after my trip. So a total of 12 weeks of medication. Sounds like a lot of poison, I thought, but ok. She pulls up my file on her computer and notes "Patient going on safari. Prescribed X drug for malaria prophylaxis."
So I go to the pharmacy, get my prescription and go to work. At work, I go online, just to make sure that the doctor has given me the right medication (as I've mentioned in previous posts, the health care system in Saudi is well... not perfect. Fortunately it is also very cheap...). Well, good thing I did. According the CDC website, the main ingredient in the pills she had prescribed was the one thing the malaria in Tanzania is resistant to. So I call the clinic again and ask to speak to the doctor. I explain to the doctor that I have looked up the pills on the CDC website and that I can't take these pills because the malaria in Tanzania is resistant to them. "Oh, you're going to TANZANIA! In that case, can you come back? I can prescribe something else."
I excuse myself from work, go back to the clinic and see the doctor again. She had also pulled up the CDC website and was trying to figure out which of the medicines they recommend is actually available in Saudi. Fortunately, there is one. She tells me that I will have to start taking this pills two days before my trip and take them everyday while on the trip and for four weeks after I return. She pulls up my chart on her computer and adds a note in my file that says "Patient going to Tennessee, with medication X resistant malaria, prescribing medication Y." I didn't realize that Tennessee was in Africa, much less that it had drug resistant malaria, but I figured I'd let that one go.
At least the medication I have now is on the CDC website as something I should be taking. It also, however, says that this medication can cause nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to sunlight, and in some cases can cause severe allergic reactions, vision changes and discoloration of teeth. And it's not even guaranteed to prevent malaria! So, we'll see how this goes.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Lyon (Part Deux)
Day 2: The day was less exciting, but it did start with “pain au chocolat” and hot cocoa. I basically got to sit at the entrance to this conference all day and watch people walk by. There were a few that came and looked quizzically at me and the brochures on the table, but upon realizing that I don’t speak French and that everything on my table was in English they were less interested in me and the information I could provide and just took the freebies. Oh, the life of the admissions officer.
The day ended with dinner at the top of the opera house in Lyon, with a beautiful view of Lyon City Hall and the “two hills of Lyon.” As they explained, there is “the hill that prays,” which is home to the basilica I had already visited in addition to other monasteries and convents, and “the hill that works,” which houses Lyon’s textile industry. Apparently, Lyon is the silk capital of France and as such this second hill has all the textile workshops.
Dinner itself was fairly uneventful. As it turns out the Nobel Laureate is quite the movie buff and grew up in Philadelphia, so we got to talking a bit. He is definitely a scientist and has that spiral way of thinking that seems to the norm among the super smart scientists that I know. It’s like they are thinking of so many things at once that they need to talk about them at once as well. It certainly keeps the conversations interesting.
Day 3: I again started the day with “pain au chocolat” but this time added Orangina. We were off to the conference again. Fortunately for me, I had a small break. I got to go to the hospital here in Lyon to get my yellow fever shot for my safari later this month. As it turns out, getting vaccines in KSA is quite difficult and the yellow fever vaccine is one of the hardest. I called the clinic on KAUST’s campus, which explained that they didn’t have the permit to distribute that vaccine. In fact, there was only one hospital in Jeddah that had those rights. I called that hospital, and just my luck, they had run out. Thus my visit to the Red Cross while in France.
Fortunately for me, one of the conference’s organizers came with me so that I had someone translate the forms and the many questions that I was being asked. Turns out, not a lot of people in Lyon go on safari in Tanzania, so a got a couple of confused looks. My favorite part was one of the questions on the forms. The question itself is pretty straight forward, “Where will you be staying?” My answer however, not as straight forward “Adventure,” which I took to mean camping in a safari type of situation and I thought just sounded like the best explanation of what I hope that trip will be.
The day ended well. After the conference I was able to go back to downtown Lyon and walk around a bit more (and of course take more pictures). I also walked into a wine store and bought myself a bottle of wine (I highly recommend the Bourgogne Hautes Cotes de Nuits). I walked back from Lyon to my hotel, strolling down the banks of the Rhone river. It was glorious. I fabulous way to say au revoir to a city that had treated me very well.
Day 4 (Back in black): What should have been an eventful day turned into a bit of a experience. I arrived at the Lyon airport about 1.45 hours before my flight and went to the check in counter/computer to check-in. "No ticket found" the computer tells me, so a friendly flight ticketing agent tells me to go up to the desk. I do. The agent takes my passport and my printed e-ticket confirmation (given to me by the KAUST travel agency) and starts typing on her computer. She pauses and starts talking to the person next to her in French, all I got was "ticket not found." She looks up at me and says, "did you change your ticket?" Not really, the agency had changed it for me over a week ago, but the new ticket had been confirmed and she was holding all of the information I had. "Ok" she says, and goes back to her computer.
She then looks at me and explains that while the confirmation and ticket number are valid, she can't seem to find me in the system. I proceed to call the travel agency in KSA and tell them what's going on, they insist that I should be in the system and proceed to give me all the numbers I already have (ticket number, confirmation code, flight info...) I look at the ticket agent, while she picks up the phone, more french and "no ticket found." Again she looks up at me, smiles and goes back to the computer. She then stands up, says "I'll be right back. I have to talk to my colleague," and leaves. Ten minutes later, she returns and goes back to the computer. Again, she picks up the phone, more french. Another ticket agent comes to the desk. More french, the first agent goes through the computer process with the second agent, "no ticket found." They both look at me and smile.
The second agent tells me to follow her to another desk. I do. She tells me again that they can't seem to find me in the system. I'm starting to worry, it's been almost 1 hour and my flight is supposed to leave in about 40 min. Finally a third ticket agent comes up, she must be the woman in charge because she takes all of my paperwork, looks at me and proceeds to yet another desk. She starts her computer thing, "I have found the problem. Do you know why there are two tickets in your name?" There shouldn't be, but unfortunately I'm not terribly surprised. "Don't worry. We will get you on this flight, but you should contact your travel agency and make sure they don't charge you for two flights because this is not your fault." She then smiles at me, takes my luggage and (hurray!) hands me a boarding pass.
The flights themselves were normal. However, once again, upon arriving at the boarding gate in Frankfurt the atmosphere clearly changed. Mostly men, and the few women there didn't seem terribly happy. "Welcome back to hell" some guy tells me when we get on the shuttle bus on our way to the airplane. Great, the craziness has already begun I think to myself.
The flight lands, and I'm back in my black abaya... Home... well for now.
The day ended with dinner at the top of the opera house in Lyon, with a beautiful view of Lyon City Hall and the “two hills of Lyon.” As they explained, there is “the hill that prays,” which is home to the basilica I had already visited in addition to other monasteries and convents, and “the hill that works,” which houses Lyon’s textile industry. Apparently, Lyon is the silk capital of France and as such this second hill has all the textile workshops.
Dinner itself was fairly uneventful. As it turns out the Nobel Laureate is quite the movie buff and grew up in Philadelphia, so we got to talking a bit. He is definitely a scientist and has that spiral way of thinking that seems to the norm among the super smart scientists that I know. It’s like they are thinking of so many things at once that they need to talk about them at once as well. It certainly keeps the conversations interesting.
Day 3: I again started the day with “pain au chocolat” but this time added Orangina. We were off to the conference again. Fortunately for me, I had a small break. I got to go to the hospital here in Lyon to get my yellow fever shot for my safari later this month. As it turns out, getting vaccines in KSA is quite difficult and the yellow fever vaccine is one of the hardest. I called the clinic on KAUST’s campus, which explained that they didn’t have the permit to distribute that vaccine. In fact, there was only one hospital in Jeddah that had those rights. I called that hospital, and just my luck, they had run out. Thus my visit to the Red Cross while in France.
Fortunately for me, one of the conference’s organizers came with me so that I had someone translate the forms and the many questions that I was being asked. Turns out, not a lot of people in Lyon go on safari in Tanzania, so a got a couple of confused looks. My favorite part was one of the questions on the forms. The question itself is pretty straight forward, “Where will you be staying?” My answer however, not as straight forward “Adventure,” which I took to mean camping in a safari type of situation and I thought just sounded like the best explanation of what I hope that trip will be.
The day ended well. After the conference I was able to go back to downtown Lyon and walk around a bit more (and of course take more pictures). I also walked into a wine store and bought myself a bottle of wine (I highly recommend the Bourgogne Hautes Cotes de Nuits). I walked back from Lyon to my hotel, strolling down the banks of the Rhone river. It was glorious. I fabulous way to say au revoir to a city that had treated me very well.
Day 4 (Back in black): What should have been an eventful day turned into a bit of a experience. I arrived at the Lyon airport about 1.45 hours before my flight and went to the check in counter/computer to check-in. "No ticket found" the computer tells me, so a friendly flight ticketing agent tells me to go up to the desk. I do. The agent takes my passport and my printed e-ticket confirmation (given to me by the KAUST travel agency) and starts typing on her computer. She pauses and starts talking to the person next to her in French, all I got was "ticket not found." She looks up at me and says, "did you change your ticket?" Not really, the agency had changed it for me over a week ago, but the new ticket had been confirmed and she was holding all of the information I had. "Ok" she says, and goes back to her computer.
She then looks at me and explains that while the confirmation and ticket number are valid, she can't seem to find me in the system. I proceed to call the travel agency in KSA and tell them what's going on, they insist that I should be in the system and proceed to give me all the numbers I already have (ticket number, confirmation code, flight info...) I look at the ticket agent, while she picks up the phone, more french and "no ticket found." Again she looks up at me, smiles and goes back to the computer. She then stands up, says "I'll be right back. I have to talk to my colleague," and leaves. Ten minutes later, she returns and goes back to the computer. Again, she picks up the phone, more french. Another ticket agent comes to the desk. More french, the first agent goes through the computer process with the second agent, "no ticket found." They both look at me and smile.
The second agent tells me to follow her to another desk. I do. She tells me again that they can't seem to find me in the system. I'm starting to worry, it's been almost 1 hour and my flight is supposed to leave in about 40 min. Finally a third ticket agent comes up, she must be the woman in charge because she takes all of my paperwork, looks at me and proceeds to yet another desk. She starts her computer thing, "I have found the problem. Do you know why there are two tickets in your name?" There shouldn't be, but unfortunately I'm not terribly surprised. "Don't worry. We will get you on this flight, but you should contact your travel agency and make sure they don't charge you for two flights because this is not your fault." She then smiles at me, takes my luggage and (hurray!) hands me a boarding pass.
The flights themselves were normal. However, once again, upon arriving at the boarding gate in Frankfurt the atmosphere clearly changed. Mostly men, and the few women there didn't seem terribly happy. "Welcome back to hell" some guy tells me when we get on the shuttle bus on our way to the airplane. Great, the craziness has already begun I think to myself.
The flight lands, and I'm back in my black abaya... Home... well for now.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Lyon
Day 1: My excitement reached an all time high when I finally got in the taxi that was going to take me to the airport in Jeddah. There had been no last minute cancellation or change of plans! I was actually going to be able to leave the kingdom and do some recruiting!
So finally I reached the airport and well let me just say that it is quite surprising that an airport that gets so many international visitor (because of its proximity to Mecca) is so, well, blah. First off, you arrive at the ticket counters and there are blobs of people, no lines or cues, no order, really just a cluster of people (mostly men, because the women are all sitting off to one side somewhere) who are talking very loudly (in Arabic of course). So I finally manage to weasel my way through the crowds and arrive at the table. Apparently, Air France has a “one bag per flight” rule and I had two bags. Fortunately for me, I was probably the first single female traveler the airline attendant had dealt with in a while, so he took pity on me and let me check both my suitcase and the case for my stand.
Great, make through immigration and special “ladies only” search line and arrive at the waiting area. This place is well, reminiscent of a bad bus station. There are not enough seats for everyone, and to make matters worse, as a woman you are not really supposed to sit next to a man you don’t know. So, what did I do? I leaned up again a wall somewhere and waited for someone to get up. When someone finally did, I sat down. Five minutes after sitting down, one the professors from KAUST found and invited me to the first class lounge.
“The place is useless” he says, but takes one look around at our waiting area and adds “but it’s better than this.” So off we go to the first class lounge. He wasn’t kidding. The place is basically what most waiting areas in normal airports would look like, plus a little room for smokers and a terrible little food display. We sat there, ate our less than appetizing chocolate cake and waited for them to call the plane. Finally the call our plane to board, we do and we are off!
The flights themselves were uneventful and I arrived in Lyon at 8:30am, right on time. One of the organizers for the conference I was attending met me there and gave me a ride to the hotel. She explained that the hotel was not downtown (which according to her was quite a ways away) but that it was next to a lovely park and that I could always take the tram or the bus to reach ”Old Lyon.” I have to admit that the drive itself was beautiful. I had forgotten how much I love seeing green and trees, and realized how much I had missed nature! Fortunately for me, this is end of spring in Lyon, so everything is in full bloom and the days are brisk and sunny. Perfect weather for someone from the dessert.
I checked into my hotel, took a quick shower and went to the lobby to ask how to get downtown. The concierge explained that I needed to catch the bus until the last stop. I hopped on the bus and hoped that I had gotten on the right bus and that we were headed in the right direction (the concierge proved harder to understand than I expected). Well we turned the corner and there was the Rhone River. Wow, the buildings that line the river are stunning! The bus ride took all of 15 min, and I had arrived in Old Lyon at the main square.
I took my camera out and didn’t put it away until I got back on the bus on my way to the hotel. What a gorgeous city! I thought I wanted to go shopping, because it’s not really something you can do in KSA, but one look at the architecture and design of this World Heritage Site, and all I wanted to do was walk around and take pictures. So I did.
I got lost in the old city, walking down cobble stone streets and up and down little alleys with ivy-covered walls. I had lunch at a sidewalk café and ordered wine (hurray!) and a cheese plate, and was blissfully happy to just sit there and people watch. I have to say that people in Lyon have a very peculiar sense of style, it’s somewhere between the 80’s (I saw both Hammer pants and a flock of seagulls haircut) and haute couture. Lots of fun to watch. Lots of roman sandals.
After lunch I walked across the city to the Saone River and looked up at the Basilica Notre-Dame-du-Fourviere. Which looked beautiful off in the distance and thought to myself, “there has to be a way to get up there.” And there was.
What felt like a million stairs later… I was there. I walked into the Basilica and I have to admit that my eyes watered. I was overwhelmed. First off the place is gorgeous, but secondly, I hadn’t stepped into a church since I moved to Saudi. I had forgotten the awe that being in a place like instills in me. I felt peace and comfort in a way that I had missed but yet forgotten. It was a great experience to just sit there and be quiet for a while, surrounded by history and faith.
After my spiritual re-connection, I walked down the gardens of the basilica and made my way to the John Paul Cathedral, also a stunning church, although not quite as ornate or mesmerizing as the Basilica. I then continued to walk around Lyon, taking pictures like a crazy woman (I have about 300 pictures to prove it). I ended my personal tour by walking back to Rhone, jumping on the bus back and arriving at the park behind my hotel. It was lovely. The park has a lake in the middle of it and is covered in flowers. It was just so nice to be able to walk around on grass and see people wearing normal clothes (not an abaya in sight!) laying on the grass reading a book. I realized that much of what I miss is summed up in the little things that you don’t really think about when they’re available to you.
After my walk, I went back to my hotel room took a nap and got ready for dinner. I was fortunate to attend dinner at Paul Bocuse, which is apparently a very well known restaurant run by a very famous chef. At dinner I met the 2001 Chemistry Nobel Laureate, who was the keynote speaker at the conference I was attending. The dinner itself was exquisitely rich and decadent and consisted of 6 courses! During the meal we actually got to meet the chef’s wife and the chef himself.
So finally I reached the airport and well let me just say that it is quite surprising that an airport that gets so many international visitor (because of its proximity to Mecca) is so, well, blah. First off, you arrive at the ticket counters and there are blobs of people, no lines or cues, no order, really just a cluster of people (mostly men, because the women are all sitting off to one side somewhere) who are talking very loudly (in Arabic of course). So I finally manage to weasel my way through the crowds and arrive at the table. Apparently, Air France has a “one bag per flight” rule and I had two bags. Fortunately for me, I was probably the first single female traveler the airline attendant had dealt with in a while, so he took pity on me and let me check both my suitcase and the case for my stand.
Great, make through immigration and special “ladies only” search line and arrive at the waiting area. This place is well, reminiscent of a bad bus station. There are not enough seats for everyone, and to make matters worse, as a woman you are not really supposed to sit next to a man you don’t know. So, what did I do? I leaned up again a wall somewhere and waited for someone to get up. When someone finally did, I sat down. Five minutes after sitting down, one the professors from KAUST found and invited me to the first class lounge.
“The place is useless” he says, but takes one look around at our waiting area and adds “but it’s better than this.” So off we go to the first class lounge. He wasn’t kidding. The place is basically what most waiting areas in normal airports would look like, plus a little room for smokers and a terrible little food display. We sat there, ate our less than appetizing chocolate cake and waited for them to call the plane. Finally the call our plane to board, we do and we are off!
The flights themselves were uneventful and I arrived in Lyon at 8:30am, right on time. One of the organizers for the conference I was attending met me there and gave me a ride to the hotel. She explained that the hotel was not downtown (which according to her was quite a ways away) but that it was next to a lovely park and that I could always take the tram or the bus to reach ”Old Lyon.” I have to admit that the drive itself was beautiful. I had forgotten how much I love seeing green and trees, and realized how much I had missed nature! Fortunately for me, this is end of spring in Lyon, so everything is in full bloom and the days are brisk and sunny. Perfect weather for someone from the dessert.
I checked into my hotel, took a quick shower and went to the lobby to ask how to get downtown. The concierge explained that I needed to catch the bus until the last stop. I hopped on the bus and hoped that I had gotten on the right bus and that we were headed in the right direction (the concierge proved harder to understand than I expected). Well we turned the corner and there was the Rhone River. Wow, the buildings that line the river are stunning! The bus ride took all of 15 min, and I had arrived in Old Lyon at the main square.
I took my camera out and didn’t put it away until I got back on the bus on my way to the hotel. What a gorgeous city! I thought I wanted to go shopping, because it’s not really something you can do in KSA, but one look at the architecture and design of this World Heritage Site, and all I wanted to do was walk around and take pictures. So I did.
I got lost in the old city, walking down cobble stone streets and up and down little alleys with ivy-covered walls. I had lunch at a sidewalk café and ordered wine (hurray!) and a cheese plate, and was blissfully happy to just sit there and people watch. I have to say that people in Lyon have a very peculiar sense of style, it’s somewhere between the 80’s (I saw both Hammer pants and a flock of seagulls haircut) and haute couture. Lots of fun to watch. Lots of roman sandals.
After lunch I walked across the city to the Saone River and looked up at the Basilica Notre-Dame-du-Fourviere. Which looked beautiful off in the distance and thought to myself, “there has to be a way to get up there.” And there was.
What felt like a million stairs later… I was there. I walked into the Basilica and I have to admit that my eyes watered. I was overwhelmed. First off the place is gorgeous, but secondly, I hadn’t stepped into a church since I moved to Saudi. I had forgotten the awe that being in a place like instills in me. I felt peace and comfort in a way that I had missed but yet forgotten. It was a great experience to just sit there and be quiet for a while, surrounded by history and faith.
After my spiritual re-connection, I walked down the gardens of the basilica and made my way to the John Paul Cathedral, also a stunning church, although not quite as ornate or mesmerizing as the Basilica. I then continued to walk around Lyon, taking pictures like a crazy woman (I have about 300 pictures to prove it). I ended my personal tour by walking back to Rhone, jumping on the bus back and arriving at the park behind my hotel. It was lovely. The park has a lake in the middle of it and is covered in flowers. It was just so nice to be able to walk around on grass and see people wearing normal clothes (not an abaya in sight!) laying on the grass reading a book. I realized that much of what I miss is summed up in the little things that you don’t really think about when they’re available to you.
After my walk, I went back to my hotel room took a nap and got ready for dinner. I was fortunate to attend dinner at Paul Bocuse, which is apparently a very well known restaurant run by a very famous chef. At dinner I met the 2001 Chemistry Nobel Laureate, who was the keynote speaker at the conference I was attending. The dinner itself was exquisitely rich and decadent and consisted of 6 courses! During the meal we actually got to meet the chef’s wife and the chef himself.
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