Sweltering in black nylon, Caroline Hendrie endures
the religiously enforced restrictions on women to visit the heartland of Islam
Never has 'my trip' been a more apt description of a holiday. Half of us in
Explore Worldwide's first group to tour Saudi Arabia spent two weeks tripping -
up ramparts, onto coaches, into tombs and over disused railway tracks.
The deeply traditional kingdom has tentatively opened to tourists, but in a very controlled and restricted way. So, no independent travellers; no tourist visas for women under 40, unless accompanied by their husband, father or brother; a list of subjects that must not be photographed, including all women; no alcohol, of course, and a compulsory dress code. While male visitors must remember only not to pack their shorts, women can't get away with just loose and modest clothing. So on our first morning in Riyadh we were whisked to the nearest shopping mall to be kitted out in black abayas.
Sajjad, our Pakistani guide, held up larger and larger tent-like garments, explaining that men must not be able to discern the outline of our bodies: for their protection and ours, it is the law. But as foreigners we need only wear a headscarf, not the burqa, the full head covering and veil with only a slit for the eyes that is compulsory for Saudi women outside their homes. For 100 riyals (£20) I bought a wide, all-enveloping wrap-over with poppers at the neck and tasselled cord ties on one side. I also bought a short burqa for £4, which turned out quite useful - dispensing with the need for sun block, less sweaty round the neck than a scarf, and staying firmly in place.
We left the air-conditioned shopping mall and drove to the outskirts of Riyadh, to Direyah, the remains of the mud-brick capital of the first Saudi state founded in 1466. But dizzy with the scorching sun beating down on my black-nylon-covered head and constantly stepping on the hem of my abaya trying to keep up on the rough paths, I am afraid the sophisticated level of architecture and Sajjad's talk about its history passed me by.
The reason we were out in the midday sun on our first day in Saudi Arabia was that the nice cool National Museum where we were going to have our orientation is 'men and school parties only' on Monday mornings, and we had to wait until late afternoon for 'family' time to begin. And so it was that our odd 'family' (it was by being classified as a family that our motley group of seven tourists - two couples, a single man and two single women - were allowed to travel and eat together) embarked on a sightseeing tour where we turned out to be the curiosities in many places we visited.
Saudi Arabian society is so strictly segregated that men and women are forbidden to work together, shake hands, converse or even catch one another's eyes. Women cannot eat in public, travel on buses or drive. The all-powerful matawwa - religious police, recognisable by their fearsome long beards and above-the-ankle hemlines - enforce the law.
That first night in Riyadh I had another taste of the challenges to come. Walking blithely through the door of a recommended restaurant I and my two companions were greeted by a waiter rushing forward to shoo us round to the 'family' entrance down a side alley. In a gloomy windowless room we were shown to a screened-off table where we ate our meal in purdah. Another thing everyone needs to remember when looking for something to eat in Saudi Arabia is that restaurants (and shops) shut for a good half-hour for prayer time around midday, sunset, and again when darkness has completely fallen.
The next morning we flew north to Al Jawf, near the Jordanian border. Due to its position on a major trade route with what are now Iraq and Syria, the area is rich in archaeological sites. As we stumbled up the crumbly steps of Marid palace in the ruined pre-Islamic settlement of Dumat al Jandal, Frances, a retired teacher from Yorkshire, catching her foot in her hem yet again, mused, 'How do the women here manage?'
'They don't go sightseeing. They don't go anywhere,' I said through gritted teeth.
Certainly Saudi women don't take part much in active outdoor life (bearing on average 6.4 children can't help), and so far we'd had every site to ourselves - the mysterious fourth-century standing stones of Sakaka in a lonely field were all ours, as was Qasr Zaabel, a fort perched high on a rock.
At our hotel that night the presence of round-the-clock sentries in the lobby (to guard the prince of the region, who had taken over the second floor while his new palace is being built) rather inhibited me from leaving my abaya in my room. Generally, though, we were told, it is all right not to wear it inside hotels, where 99 per cent of the staff are foreign workers anyway.
We stayed in the best hotels wherever we went, on the insistence of the ministry of tourism, and all were proud of their leisure facilities. In the Hyatt Regency in Riyadh, my welcome letter invited me to use the gym and pool, but when I asked the receptionist about the opening times he regretted that ladies were not allowed, though with a day or so's notice they could drive me out to an expat compound for a swim. (At the Holiday Inn down south in Najran the Palestinian manager offered to close the steam room and Jacuzzi for an hour so the women in our group could use them, but not the pool, alas, because it is open-air, and can be overlooked.)
From Sakaka we embarked on a three-night camping trip by four-wheel drive, more or less following the route of the Hejaz railway, built nearly 100 years ago to bring pilgrims from Damascus to Medina, and raided by Lawrence of Arabia with Bedouin armies during the First World War.
It was a long drive into Wadi Madakhil for our last night's camping, so after seeing Bir Haddaj, the beautifully restored old well and ancient mud-brick Qasr al Hakuma in Tayma, we sped out of town. But not far.
At the first checkpoint we were made to wait, 'only 15 minutes' - which turned into an hour - for the local prince who was due down the road from the other direction. No vehicle could pass until the prince had come through. By the time his convoy arrived I was quite excited, would he be in a bullet-proof Cadillac or a silver Bentley? He finally swept by in a huge bronze and smoked-glass coach worthy of a country and western star on tour.
We pitched our tents in the fading light beside Elephant Rock, which, being a local attraction, was strewn with broken glass and cans. My abaya came in handy to cover my modesty for a quick wash behind my tent in the light of the full moon.
In remoter areas the atmosphere was more relaxed and we were able to eat in small restaurants in full view of local males, though there weren't any women's loos. The police were more interested in our documents than what we were wearing, and Sajjad got less strict about headscarf drill. So I was able to stride untrammelled round the huge Nabatean site of Madain Saleh, sensibly dressed in a sun hat, shirt and trousers, passport safely zipped in a pocket.
The nearest we got to the holy city of Medina - which, with Mecca, is strictly off-limits for non-Muslims - was the airport, where I saw pilgrims wearing just two pieces of white cloth, and holy water, one of the few home-produced souvenirs, on sale at £4 for 10 litres.
We flew to Jeddah, the cosmopolitan city port on the Red Sea, where plate-glass skyscrapers tower over the crooked narrow streets of the old town. I wandered in search of supper down a busy boulevard teeming with people from all over the Muslim world. There was no shortage of fast-food restaurants, but all the seating was 'bachelors only'. I had to buy my halal fried chicken through the 'ladies window' and scuttle back to my room with it.
The next day we visited Naseef House, an old merchant's home, now a museum. Sami Nawar, director of the Jeddah Historical Preservation Society, who showed us round, said that the ministry of tourism was interested in attracting more visitors, but rather than relaxing the rules was considering closing off certain areas to locals lest they be influenced by contact with the tourists.
It's this insular attitude that adds to the fascination for a tourist to a country untouched by 'Starbucksisation'. The overt discrimination I experienced because of my sex felt extraordinary. So while it may be an odd way to spend a holiday - in an outfit unsuitable for sightseeing or the climate, barred from restaurants and buses, not allowed a beer or a swim - it was extremely interesting, and often amusing.
I got strangely attached to my hot, flapping abaya, which had its advantages, like protecting my vanity from the crumpled consequences of two weeks without an iron. And while it hampered my movements, it also freed me to wander around on my own unhassled by hawkers or gawpers. My own, travelling, invisibility cloak.
Factfile
Caroline Hendrie travelled with Explore Worldwide (01252 760000). Its 'Journey through Arabia' plus Asir Mountains extension costs £2,315, including flights, all transport, an accompanying tour leader, 13 nights' accommodation and most meals. A 10-day tour, without the Asir Mountains, costs from £1,765. The next tour departs on 13 October and there are trips scheduled for 27 October, 22 December, 16/30 March and 13 April. Explore can arrange a Saudi Arabian visa, which costs £39 plus a £20 agency fee.
The deeply traditional kingdom has tentatively opened to tourists, but in a very controlled and restricted way. So, no independent travellers; no tourist visas for women under 40, unless accompanied by their husband, father or brother; a list of subjects that must not be photographed, including all women; no alcohol, of course, and a compulsory dress code. While male visitors must remember only not to pack their shorts, women can't get away with just loose and modest clothing. So on our first morning in Riyadh we were whisked to the nearest shopping mall to be kitted out in black abayas.
Sajjad, our Pakistani guide, held up larger and larger tent-like garments, explaining that men must not be able to discern the outline of our bodies: for their protection and ours, it is the law. But as foreigners we need only wear a headscarf, not the burqa, the full head covering and veil with only a slit for the eyes that is compulsory for Saudi women outside their homes. For 100 riyals (£20) I bought a wide, all-enveloping wrap-over with poppers at the neck and tasselled cord ties on one side. I also bought a short burqa for £4, which turned out quite useful - dispensing with the need for sun block, less sweaty round the neck than a scarf, and staying firmly in place.
We left the air-conditioned shopping mall and drove to the outskirts of Riyadh, to Direyah, the remains of the mud-brick capital of the first Saudi state founded in 1466. But dizzy with the scorching sun beating down on my black-nylon-covered head and constantly stepping on the hem of my abaya trying to keep up on the rough paths, I am afraid the sophisticated level of architecture and Sajjad's talk about its history passed me by.
The reason we were out in the midday sun on our first day in Saudi Arabia was that the nice cool National Museum where we were going to have our orientation is 'men and school parties only' on Monday mornings, and we had to wait until late afternoon for 'family' time to begin. And so it was that our odd 'family' (it was by being classified as a family that our motley group of seven tourists - two couples, a single man and two single women - were allowed to travel and eat together) embarked on a sightseeing tour where we turned out to be the curiosities in many places we visited.
Saudi Arabian society is so strictly segregated that men and women are forbidden to work together, shake hands, converse or even catch one another's eyes. Women cannot eat in public, travel on buses or drive. The all-powerful matawwa - religious police, recognisable by their fearsome long beards and above-the-ankle hemlines - enforce the law.
That first night in Riyadh I had another taste of the challenges to come. Walking blithely through the door of a recommended restaurant I and my two companions were greeted by a waiter rushing forward to shoo us round to the 'family' entrance down a side alley. In a gloomy windowless room we were shown to a screened-off table where we ate our meal in purdah. Another thing everyone needs to remember when looking for something to eat in Saudi Arabia is that restaurants (and shops) shut for a good half-hour for prayer time around midday, sunset, and again when darkness has completely fallen.
The next morning we flew north to Al Jawf, near the Jordanian border. Due to its position on a major trade route with what are now Iraq and Syria, the area is rich in archaeological sites. As we stumbled up the crumbly steps of Marid palace in the ruined pre-Islamic settlement of Dumat al Jandal, Frances, a retired teacher from Yorkshire, catching her foot in her hem yet again, mused, 'How do the women here manage?'
'They don't go sightseeing. They don't go anywhere,' I said through gritted teeth.
Certainly Saudi women don't take part much in active outdoor life (bearing on average 6.4 children can't help), and so far we'd had every site to ourselves - the mysterious fourth-century standing stones of Sakaka in a lonely field were all ours, as was Qasr Zaabel, a fort perched high on a rock.
At our hotel that night the presence of round-the-clock sentries in the lobby (to guard the prince of the region, who had taken over the second floor while his new palace is being built) rather inhibited me from leaving my abaya in my room. Generally, though, we were told, it is all right not to wear it inside hotels, where 99 per cent of the staff are foreign workers anyway.
We stayed in the best hotels wherever we went, on the insistence of the ministry of tourism, and all were proud of their leisure facilities. In the Hyatt Regency in Riyadh, my welcome letter invited me to use the gym and pool, but when I asked the receptionist about the opening times he regretted that ladies were not allowed, though with a day or so's notice they could drive me out to an expat compound for a swim. (At the Holiday Inn down south in Najran the Palestinian manager offered to close the steam room and Jacuzzi for an hour so the women in our group could use them, but not the pool, alas, because it is open-air, and can be overlooked.)
From Sakaka we embarked on a three-night camping trip by four-wheel drive, more or less following the route of the Hejaz railway, built nearly 100 years ago to bring pilgrims from Damascus to Medina, and raided by Lawrence of Arabia with Bedouin armies during the First World War.
It was a long drive into Wadi Madakhil for our last night's camping, so after seeing Bir Haddaj, the beautifully restored old well and ancient mud-brick Qasr al Hakuma in Tayma, we sped out of town. But not far.
At the first checkpoint we were made to wait, 'only 15 minutes' - which turned into an hour - for the local prince who was due down the road from the other direction. No vehicle could pass until the prince had come through. By the time his convoy arrived I was quite excited, would he be in a bullet-proof Cadillac or a silver Bentley? He finally swept by in a huge bronze and smoked-glass coach worthy of a country and western star on tour.
We pitched our tents in the fading light beside Elephant Rock, which, being a local attraction, was strewn with broken glass and cans. My abaya came in handy to cover my modesty for a quick wash behind my tent in the light of the full moon.
In remoter areas the atmosphere was more relaxed and we were able to eat in small restaurants in full view of local males, though there weren't any women's loos. The police were more interested in our documents than what we were wearing, and Sajjad got less strict about headscarf drill. So I was able to stride untrammelled round the huge Nabatean site of Madain Saleh, sensibly dressed in a sun hat, shirt and trousers, passport safely zipped in a pocket.
The nearest we got to the holy city of Medina - which, with Mecca, is strictly off-limits for non-Muslims - was the airport, where I saw pilgrims wearing just two pieces of white cloth, and holy water, one of the few home-produced souvenirs, on sale at £4 for 10 litres.
We flew to Jeddah, the cosmopolitan city port on the Red Sea, where plate-glass skyscrapers tower over the crooked narrow streets of the old town. I wandered in search of supper down a busy boulevard teeming with people from all over the Muslim world. There was no shortage of fast-food restaurants, but all the seating was 'bachelors only'. I had to buy my halal fried chicken through the 'ladies window' and scuttle back to my room with it.
The next day we visited Naseef House, an old merchant's home, now a museum. Sami Nawar, director of the Jeddah Historical Preservation Society, who showed us round, said that the ministry of tourism was interested in attracting more visitors, but rather than relaxing the rules was considering closing off certain areas to locals lest they be influenced by contact with the tourists.
It's this insular attitude that adds to the fascination for a tourist to a country untouched by 'Starbucksisation'. The overt discrimination I experienced because of my sex felt extraordinary. So while it may be an odd way to spend a holiday - in an outfit unsuitable for sightseeing or the climate, barred from restaurants and buses, not allowed a beer or a swim - it was extremely interesting, and often amusing.
I got strangely attached to my hot, flapping abaya, which had its advantages, like protecting my vanity from the crumpled consequences of two weeks without an iron. And while it hampered my movements, it also freed me to wander around on my own unhassled by hawkers or gawpers. My own, travelling, invisibility cloak.
Factfile
Caroline Hendrie travelled with Explore Worldwide (01252 760000). Its 'Journey through Arabia' plus Asir Mountains extension costs £2,315, including flights, all transport, an accompanying tour leader, 13 nights' accommodation and most meals. A 10-day tour, without the Asir Mountains, costs from £1,765. The next tour departs on 13 October and there are trips scheduled for 27 October, 22 December, 16/30 March and 13 April. Explore can arrange a Saudi Arabian visa, which costs £39 plus a £20 agency fee.
