The land of sand is much less romantic than it sounds.
It’s a land where a custom official might actually smile and give you a hearty welcome as you pass through. It’s a land where most of the scattered buildings are painted in different shades of beige. In the land of sand you will certainly die without a working air conditioner. It’s a place where the citizens converse in a language that basically sounds like they’re having some kind of phlegm attack.
It’s the type of place where the captain, before landing the plane, warn all passengers that it is illegal to carry alcohol on your person. Never mind drinking it. In the land of sand it is acceptable for men to wrap two white towels around their bodies and go out in public, undoubtedly flashing a nipple or some navel fluff to any unsuspecting person. The woman are kept under several layers of black material. I’m assuming it’s woman, its kind of difficult to tell when you can’t see their faces. A closet transvestite’s paradise. Which makes me wonder how they manage to identify these ladies when they’re boarding a plane?
In the land of sand men can also wear a dress but then they need to drape a red and white checker cloth over their heads. A garment that seems like a nuisance considering how they’re constantly re-arranging it. It’s a place where any guy who suffers from beard envy will shrivel up and die like those poor unfortunate souls in the garden of Ursula. The men in the land of sand might be wearing dresses but they sure as hell know how to grow some serious facial hair.
Rumour has it that it rains but once a year, which explains the absolute havoc it causes. The people don’t know how to handle these drops from the sky, especially if it floods their highways under four feet of water. Can you believe they simply close the roads? Can’t they swim? Fortunately women are not allowed to drive here. As a matter of fact, come to think of it, women are pretty scarce, unless you count a few brave ones who visit from la-la land and are forced to walk around in a black coat-thingy, covering their Gucci denims and crop tops.
It’s a land where you can have steak from beer-fed cattle but no beer. And hand raised duck breasts, green beans, cream spinach and many other unpronounceable veggies. Where the selection of mocktails on the menu will leave you dumbstruck. Where the service in the hotels are almost annoyingly good, at least where I was staying. McDonald’s and Starbucks have even invaded this peaceful place. Peaceful mostly due to the fact that taking something that doesn’t belong to you might cause you to loose a hand.
In the land of sand there are too many friendly people to count. It remains tragic that they’re all getting a bad wrap for what a few radicals are doing in the name of their religion. I certainly don’t blame people for being cautious. These acts are atrocious. But human nature tends to generalize and make assumptions about groups. We should remember that it is only the few rotten, screwed-up, fanatical, pucked-up apples that are ruining it for everybody else. (And FYI, those few should burn in hell after their dicks have been removed with a blunt knife, say I.) Maybe it’s easier for us to shove a group of people in a box, tick our assumptions of what we think they are and then move on. We judge accordingly. It’s how we deal with the unknown. Prejudice seems to be such a go-to, knee-jerk reaction.
I’m not defending the people from the land of sand, nor am I condemning them. It’s definitely not what I would consider a preferred holiday destination, basically because my Wife wouldn’t want to visit without packing her polka-dot bikini. She also doesn’t look good in black from head to tow. As a father and husband, I’m appalled to think that there are still places in modern society where women are treated like property.
I’m just saying that Saudi Arabia is not what people perceive it to be. Nor are the people who live here. Believe it or not, most people actually just wants the world to live in peace.
And I should know, as I’ve been here the whole week.