A Saudi Haircut and Shave

All barbers in Saudi are men, as are almost all workers. These workers are not Arabs, but foreigners. Mostly Indian and Filipinos but some other nationalities to fill the equal employment code not doubt. 

These men do not hold certificates from beauty academies or a license of any kind. They appear to learn by doing, which can be a bit unnerving when he first puts a straight razor to your throat, but I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the outside. 

A Saudi barbershop looks like any other Saudi building. A tan strip of run down little shops next to a petrol station with a heavy sliding gate that indicates if the shop is open or not, which is needed since they do not keep hours but open when they feel like it. Trash is piled up near the door unless the wind has blown it away. The door itself might fall off the hinges when you try to open it but most of the time it decides to stay on and just give an ear splitting scratch as you enter. The barbershop itself is a small, high dingy room with two chairs for those being served and a few filthy sofas for waiting guests. There might be a strong odor in the room or not, mostly depending on the temperature outside. A small, old television located in the corner fills the room will Bollywood programs. 

Traveler/Author David Batiz ready to receive a haircut at a local Saudi barbershop.
Photo taken by M. Davis Clarke

As you sit for your turn you cannot help but notice that there are no disinfecting sprays or liquids. The towels used to shield you from your own hair are stained and were perhaps washed, once. A haircut is like a haircut anywhere. Straightforward with scissors, water, and a brush. All of which bring previous victims hair along to mingle with yours. When the gentleman is finished you realize that it was all so easy and fluid, that you might as well get a shave. You will need one since a beard is mandatory in the Kingdom. He leans you back, wraps you in the condemned towel, and then proceeds to disinfect the razor. This is accomplished by lighting it on fire with what appears to be perfume. It is the only sterilization performed, and yet it is done with such show that you cannot help appreciate it. After this he puts a new razor blade into the razor and proceeds to go to work. Some people fall asleep, some watch in the mirror, while I personally choose to drift through my own thoughts. 

After you have paid the barber a modest sum and walk out the door a few things cross your mind. Is that the best haircut and shave I've ever had? What exactly does a certificate prove? Has anybody ever gotten sick, ill, or even had a rash from a barber here since they are so dirty and don't clean the instruments? These are questions you will have to answer for yourself. They are yes, obviously nothing, and not to my knowledge.

Trip to Mada'in Saleh- Part II

As soon as Davis and I arrived home we turned on my laptop and looked at the map. It was easy to tell where we had been driving as there were only a few roads crossing in the middle of the desert. Two cell towers also helped by making perfect landmarks. The road we needed to take was the only road we hadn't tried off of the badly damaged tank road.

Early morning the next day we again set off full of high hopes and absolute certainty that we would see our destination. We make it to the badly damaged tank road and turn onto the correct road. Total time to make it further than we did the day before, less than twenty minutes.

We drove on, enjoying the scenery and confident in our route. After an hour and a half we stop in a little village for fuel. This village comprised of a gas station, a tiny market, a police station, and a few houses. I would estimate the population as being made up of a large family. All villages in the Kingdom are identical. So we pull up to the fuel pump and the Indian worker asks "how much" in Arabic. Here is a man that comes from a beautiful lush country of a billion people, and leaves his family and friends to work alone in a speck of a village in the middle of a desert. I want to talk to him, to ask him why. What are his motives, his dreams, his desires. But alas, we are unable to communicate. So I hold up all my fingers to signify how much fuel to pump and then wave goodbye to this sad lonely wanderer and leave him to contemplate his decisions and being.

A camel relaxing by the road. Photograph by M. Davis Clarke

Down the ribbon of pavement we glide, enjoying the ups and downs and tight turns the hills offer us to break up the monotony of the desert. When my eyes start to close from drowsiness I just reminisce about the utter wastes of Utah's Salt Flats or Nevada's deserts and I snap awake with the understanding that this isn't bad. It could always be worse. But this time I seem to have awoken to a mirage, for there looks to be a giant mountain covering the road. Surprisingly Davis seems the same. There truly is a hill of dirt covering the road. Stunned, we stop in front of it for a moment until I realize a dirt trail with construction equipment littering it climbing the left side of this unexpected roadblock. Against Davis's wishes I drive up this makeshift road to the top. From the top we are greeted with an fabulous view. High up on the mountain are heavy construction trucks moving dirt around. I secretly hope for one to go tumbling down the mountain since the precipices they are working on don't look like they could support a man let alone a giant block of metal moving around. Down below us on the opposing side of our roadblock is a beautiful road weaving through the mountain pass. I feel sorry for it as it looks so lonely without any cars. 

Now we were at an impasse. I felt that we had driven too far to give up so easily and Davis felt we had no options. I offered up the idea of driving down the side of the mountain but Davis is a safety minded individual and was against it. I then offered roaming around the desert looking for a way to bypass this problem. Again Davis was against it saying that we only had a small front wheel drive sedan. I could see that Davis just wanted to go home since he was making excuses about my easily executed and perfectly safe ideas, so I humored him and we returned to Tabuk crestfallen.

Trip to Mada'in Saleh- Part I

To travel from city to city in Saudi Arabia may appear to be a simple task for the uninitiated, since there are very few roads and long distances between the urban areas, but it is a false belief. There is a wonderful invention called Google Maps that destroys the need to ask locals for directions or consult a map. I believe everyone knows how it works so I will skip the dry lecture. I researched the way to drive which seemed very simple. Five and a half hours, two turns, and passing three intersections once outside the city. That was it. Very straightforward and simple. 

My friend and co-worker, Davis, joined me for this trip. We get in the car and head off to the South of Tabuk. We have never gone this way before but there are few major roads in Tabuk so our chances of error seem minimal. We drive on chatting and enjoying the scenery as everyone seems to do when seeing new places. Soon enough we intersect a road that we do recognize. It is the main road to the West and Red Sea. Obviously we had missed our turn. Being completely honest with ourselves we said we knew exactly what was wrong and that we had missed our turnoff at the last roundabout. So we happily backtrack and take a different road to the South. Now would be a good time to point out that Saudi Arabia does not get many tourists and does not believe in road signs. So what road you are on is a complete guess. It adds to the mystery of the culture but can be quite interesting when you have no idea where you are headed and there isn't a town or crossroad for a thousand kilometers, or thereabouts. 

Driving in Saudi Arabia. Photograph by M. Davis Clarke.

We catch a new road off the roundabout and start heading in a generally Southern direction, according to our sun reading abilities. We continue on this road that runs with military bases on either side complete with tanks and artillery making imposing silhouettes on the hills against the horizon. Soon enough the road gets rough beyond anything a human being should be able to stand. To our best guess it is a road for the military's tanks. I feel as if I have been transported back a hundred and fifty years and am riding a Wells Fargo coach across Nevada. It turns out our guess is spot on as we come to an Army gate. Dead End. So we turn around and enjoy the free bone rattling massage while retracing our route.

We go back a little ways and turn off at an intersection to a road we have not yet used. This road goes on for about 20 kilometers and dead ends at another military gate. So we back track again and choose yet another different way. This route takes us for another 10 kilometers and then dead ends at a, well, you know the answer. It felt like we were stuck in some sort of trick. Every road we chose ended up going to a military gate. 

Davis and I do not give up easily, but seeing as we were not soldiers and had no business on a military base we decided to retreat, go home, regroup, come up with a plan of attack, and assault Mada'in Saleh at a later date. 

Again we back track, heading this time not for the South but back North to the city. After two hours of driving we had made it a total of ten minutes outside the city, but at least now we are back to the, what is this, a military gate? Perhaps it is time to invest in a GPS. ​

Ramadan

That fine and mysterious Muslim month of Ramadan is upon us. I very rarely claim to be an expert on anything, and Muslim holidays are no exception. I have not read any books about this special month but have discussed it with the Arabs that I work with. 

For this turn of the moon, as the Muslim calender is based on the moon, the followers of Allah must fast while the sun is showing. This means no eating, drinking, smoking, or pretty much anything else you can think of. Shops and restaurants are closed all day and I am told that the streets look like a ghost town while there is light out. They claim the purpose of this is to show every person the suffering of those that are doing without, so they can better understand the difficulties of the needy and be appreciative of what they have. 

This all sounds very nice and I approve, but there have been some doubts raised in my mind the past few days as we have prepared for this month. I have learned that the restaurants and shops change their hours to be open at night. The citizens feast as soon as the sun disappears under the horizon and go to cafes to smoke and converse, and companies change their work hours so the employees can sleep during the day. 

Sunset over Tabuk, Saudi Arabia. Photo by Traveler/Photographer M. Davis Clarke

Now it is true that my worries may be unfounded or incorrect but this sounds a bit like just changing everything 12 hours and becoming nocturnal. Sleeping during the day and doing all manner of normal human activity at night might not make for a fast or sacrifice. I have never tried it and can not say exactly how much of a sacrifice it is. I leave it for the reader to decide.