- Diplomatic Quarter, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia -
All U.S. representatives, including yours truly, were invited for a reception at the house of the U.S. ambassador to Saudi Arabia.
In a typical for the region fashion, the location was given as directions rather than as an actual address and four of us ended up, not surprisingly, at the wrong place. The wrong place happened to be the U.S. embassy and while I was happy to learn that the ambassador didn’t live where he worked (which I personally feel is a bad habit), the news that his house was actually quite far was a bit less-well received.
Having dismissed our taxi 10 min earlier, we started doing what anyone would do in our situation, namely approaching the many machinegun nests which dotted the embassy premises, asking for directions. I was dragging my trusty little four-wheeled suitcase which made a tak-tak-tak-tak sound as we approached them from the distance, hoping that the person pointing at us what looks like an anti-aircraft gun is not trigger happy.
y parents didn’t perpetuate the Santa myth. As a matter of fact, they made sure I understood quite early that if I didn’t get something nice, it’s not because I wasn’t loved but simply because we couldn’t afford it. Due to this I never encountered the feeling of betrayal some kids struggle with once they learn the truth that there is no Santa (sorry if you had to learn it this way…) But there is a different realization we face, more profound than that of the fabled fat man in the red suit. Kids get over Santa, but they never truly get over learning that there are no grown-ups.
Landed in Colombo, and as soon as passport control was behind me I was greeted by an impressive number of house appliance stores; microwaves, ovens – you name it. Which is perfect for those times you land in another country and suddenly remember that you really need a new fridge.
