Dear Friends and Family,

The mere process of obtaining a Visa in order to enter Saudi Arabia was difficult.

Actually, that is a vast understatement. And this from a lady who has, at various times and with various amounts of drama, has been through the process of acquiring a sum total of seven Visas. For example, I lingered for nearly a week in Kathmandu, waiting in pre-sun rise queues for my Visa to enter India. While on the other hand, my South Korean Visa was a bigger headache for my Father than it was for me. He had to search through fifteen boxes of my stateside personal effects in order to dig out my original university diploma as well as twice visit the actual university in order to acquire a sealed transcript, before FedExing the lot to Seoul. And it used to seem that no Visa process could be more onerous than my latter Chinese Visa, which took one outright rejection, numerous phone calls, two weeks of generosity from Daegu friends, my passport returning to the States without me, my sister endangering her then-new job to personally visit the San Francisco consulate, and a painful sprawl for me while trying to catch the Korean delivery man.

The Saudi Arabian Visa process cast all other Visa acquisition cast all other processes to shame. Paperwork up the ying-yang was necessary along with calling a contact in Saudi multiple times for under-defined reasons. A battery of pricey medical tests was required (paid out of pocket as I do not have health insurance in the States) along with verifying my UW diploma, writing letters, acquiring letters and multiple passport pictures. One day, I ended up rushing to the State capitol in order to obtain a properly sealed police report.

And the paperwork turned out to be the easy part! Inexplicably, the Company delayed sending its original sealed contract to me. When the contract arrived over two weeks after it was promised, I overnighted the Visa application paperwork to Washington DC. Only to discover that both the Cultural Mission as well as the Embassy had closed one week early for the following week’s holiday marking the end of Ramadan. After a three weeks and two day wait, part of my paperwork was duly processed and shipped from the embassy in Washington DC to the consulate in LA, who should’ve pasted a Visa into my passport. Instead, the LA consulate shipped my paperwork back to me – minus a Visa. I then had to re-ship my passport back to WDC and wait another week. Eleven weeks into a process reputed to take a few weeks, I received my Visa. Already beyond frustrated, I couldn’t even summon a, “hooray!”

So, imagine my reaction, two days later, while standing at the airline counter in Seattle Tacoma International airport, when the American airline told me that my Saudi Arabian Visa was no good.

Let’s just say that I was nearly able to fly myself to Saudi Arabia.

In the end, I was able to board a flight from SeaTac to JFK. With hours to wait before my next flight, I caught a train to the City and walked through heavenly autumnal rain to Central Park. The weather was gray and I got all wet – but I didn’t care a jot. I anticipated – correctly - imminent rain starvation.

Checking into my flight to Riyadh, was much easier than pie. Saudi Arabian Airlines didn’t so much blink at my Visa. After 14 hours in the air and a stop in the coastal city of Jeddah, our plane touched down in Riyadh. Feeling more nervous than I can ever recall, I shuffled through immigration, where an officer confiscated my passport and handed it to a properly dressed Saudi man who introduced himself as Siad and led me, and another American woman who had also just arrived (we hadn’t spotted each other on the plane), easily led us through Customs and then to a car. And from the car, we were handed back our passports, taken to a hotel, where I spent two shut-in nights before boarding yet another plane to my new home, the province of Al-Jouf.

Al-Jouf’s airport is teeny tiny… and it was easy to spot the male colleague who drew the unlucky job of picking me from the airport at 7:00 am. We drove for a few minutes, made a few turns and soon I found myself and my suitcases inside an obviously new and super-dusty, “villa” behind a single, seven foot concrete wall.

Welcome to my world.

Love,

Laura

Autumn in New York... and there is no need to wonder,
why it seems so inviting.

In Saudi Arabia, while not all roads lead to Makkah (aka Mecca),
all signs do point to the Kabbalah.

Villa #19 - aka my home sweet home in Saudi Arabia.