We thought the drive from Jeddah had been worthwhile when we finally arrived at the Lebanese border and it had put the new Honda Civic through its paces but why were we being kept waiting by the border guards? Our papers were being examined, arguments ensued none of which we understood. When we were finally approached by an English speaking guard we were told we didn’t have an entry stamp into Syria so could not have an exit stamp! Their solution was for us to return to our point of entry (the other side of the country) to get an entry stamp. We protested as strongly as we dared how could they expect us to make a round trip of 300 miles to get this entry stamp that had been an omission on the part of a Syrian border guard. Eventually after much discussion, waving of arms, lots of tea and after a sufficient passage of time to show they meant business, suggestions were made, palms were greased and we were allowed into the Lebanon.
The next stop was Beirut where we visited friends from Jeddah also on holiday and other acquaintances in the city. The shops were exotic and the first I had seen that offered gift-wrapping. I bought a silk tie for my husband and watched it being wrapped in a way I had never seen before with curled ribbon and bows. We had a compilation tape made, the large reel to reel type, of music we selected in the shop I remember it included ‘Mrs Jones’ by Billy Paul and Perry Como’s ‘The Good Times’. The days were punctuated by sonic booms as Israeli jets flew overhead and at night you heard gunfire. One night we went with friends to the famous Cave du Roi from where we had to run back to our hotel like criminals, fortunately only a couple of hundred yards, because it was after curfew.
We had planned to go skiing so on Christmas Eve we drove to the Cedars. I didn’t ski because I was three months pregnant and didn’t think it would be a good idea. Christmas can be a depressing time of year and I spent Christmas day walking and then sitting in a mountain side restaurant listening to a fellow Brit pouring out his heart about how his wife didn’t understand him. We had chicken and chips for dinner and red wine that made me ill, this was before the days when drinking whilst pregnant was deemed bad for you but my body already knew!
After a week of civilisation we filled our cold box with bacon and beer and headed back to Jeddah. I can’t remember much about the journey until we approached Aqaba where we were going to stay the night as we thought it would have better accommodation than anything in Saudi. Ahead of us was the Red Sea reflecting the lights in the bay a welcoming sight we headed towards them. We soon realised our mistake when we encountered the roadblocks and barbed wire fencing we were heading towards Eilat, which had literally outshone Aqaba. We turned round and found the road to Aqaba, which didn’t live up to our expectations so we carried on to Saudi.
We had kept two beers to drink in no man’s land between Jordan and Saudi Arabia and as we left Jordan we were confronted by Saudi guards, there wasn’t any no-man’s land. We knew they were going to search everything it was such a novelty to have ‘khawajas’ driving in this part of the Kingdom our dilemma was do we hope they don’t find the beer or do we come clean? We decided on the latter laughing as we told them and then had to witness the ceremony of the ‘pouring of the beer onto the ground’. We were worried they had thought we were trying to bribe them with it, we were worried about what they would do to us, and we were taken to the police office.
The next stop was Beirut where we visited friends from Jeddah also on holiday and other acquaintances in the city. The shops were exotic and the first I had seen that offered gift-wrapping. I bought a silk tie for my husband and watched it being wrapped in a way I had never seen before with curled ribbon and bows. We had a compilation tape made, the large reel to reel type, of music we selected in the shop I remember it included ‘Mrs Jones’ by Billy Paul and Perry Como’s ‘The Good Times’. The days were punctuated by sonic booms as Israeli jets flew overhead and at night you heard gunfire. One night we went with friends to the famous Cave du Roi from where we had to run back to our hotel like criminals, fortunately only a couple of hundred yards, because it was after curfew.
We had planned to go skiing so on Christmas Eve we drove to the Cedars. I didn’t ski because I was three months pregnant and didn’t think it would be a good idea. Christmas can be a depressing time of year and I spent Christmas day walking and then sitting in a mountain side restaurant listening to a fellow Brit pouring out his heart about how his wife didn’t understand him. We had chicken and chips for dinner and red wine that made me ill, this was before the days when drinking whilst pregnant was deemed bad for you but my body already knew!
After a week of civilisation we filled our cold box with bacon and beer and headed back to Jeddah. I can’t remember much about the journey until we approached Aqaba where we were going to stay the night as we thought it would have better accommodation than anything in Saudi. Ahead of us was the Red Sea reflecting the lights in the bay a welcoming sight we headed towards them. We soon realised our mistake when we encountered the roadblocks and barbed wire fencing we were heading towards Eilat, which had literally outshone Aqaba. We turned round and found the road to Aqaba, which didn’t live up to our expectations so we carried on to Saudi.
We had kept two beers to drink in no man’s land between Jordan and Saudi Arabia and as we left Jordan we were confronted by Saudi guards, there wasn’t any no-man’s land. We knew they were going to search everything it was such a novelty to have ‘khawajas’ driving in this part of the Kingdom our dilemma was do we hope they don’t find the beer or do we come clean? We decided on the latter laughing as we told them and then had to witness the ceremony of the ‘pouring of the beer onto the ground’. We were worried they had thought we were trying to bribe them with it, we were worried about what they would do to us, and we were taken to the police office.
Precious time was passing we wondered how long it would be before we could leave if indeed we ever could! It was Eid and all public offices were closed communication was poor at the best of times and we were told we would have to wait until after the holiday. We spent the evening in the company of the village dignitary and his family I took out some magazines I had with me thinking his wife and daughters would like to see them but they were taken by our host Mohammed who started to look through them. I told him they had been bought in Jeddah and were censored the evidence was plain to see on all of the advertisements where flesh had been replaced with black ink, but despite this neither his wife nor his daughters were allowed to see them. We really had to be careful we didn’t want a charge of dissidence adding to our crime.
We were resigned to the fact that we had to stay the night and hopefully things would be resolved in the morning we were consoled by the fact that we were being treated as guests and had not been slung into a jail if indeed the village had one! We were shown our bed for the night, our host’s bed! If only I could have seen the funny side then, the bed was so high because it had about ten foam mattresses on it, remember the bed in the Princess and the Pea? But unlike the bed in the fairytale this bed enveloped you once you had managed to climb onto it because it sagged in the middle. I tried not to think about the cleanliness of the sheets I had to believe they had been changed. The next day we returned to the police office. Again we were told that because of the holiday nothing could be done everything shuts down for Eid. We knew that the possession of alcohol was illegal but did not know if this was the only reason we were being held. After more waiting we were told there was a ‘villa’ we could use. We were taken to the rudimentary building and took stock of our situation. We would need sheets so we went shopping.
We thought it strange that all of the small shops had windows full of eau de cologne and it wasn’t until a much later date that we learned this was the local tipple! We were sold what were described as bed linen but looked and felt more like curtains with their blue and white pattern and embossed texture. We had bacon and mushrooms in our cold box that needed eating and we headed for the beach.
We were soon cooking our illicit meal on the camping stove; the appetising smell filled the air. After we had eaten and cleared everything away we saw two helicopters heading towards us flying either side of a speeding cruiser. This intrigued us and as we stood there watching we didn’t notice the police cars approaching until they were beside us doors flung open and several agitated armed police jumping out. It was beginning to feel unreal were we becoming part of a mirage as the sandstorm generated by the vehicles engulfed us? Another fine mess we seem to have got ourselves into! More questions more anxious moments why were we there whilst King Hussein of Jordan and the lovely Queen Noor were travelling by boat to Aqaba? Were we potential assassins?
Our local dignitary bailed us out, everyone in the village knew us, they had just been following orders etc. etc.
We returned to our cell like ‘villa’ and listened to James Taylor on our small tape recorder; that depressed us even more. I was actually three months pregnant at this time but we had tried playing that card but it hadn’t cut any ice, the general response was a smile and to congratulate us. Not all responses to our presence were pleasant I’d had stones thrown at me by local children; I was, after all, despite my modest dress, a decadent western woman.
At times we thought of making a run for it but fear of the consequences made good sense prevail.
Having missed the Rose Red City of Petra on our journey to Beirut we had reluctantly decided not to go there on our return to Jeddah because we didn’t have time as my husband was due back at work, ironic really, as the days went by and there was no way of contacting anyone. Nobody knew where we were. I often think of this with today’s society and their obsession with mobile phones and the need to be in constant contact with each other.
Five days we spent in Haql, I shall never forget them, it gave me an insight into how hostages must feel as the days slip away and you become resigned to the enforced situation. We returned to Jeddah on our release, our pleas that we had not intended to bring alcohol into Saudi must have been believed. I have looked Haql up on Google Earth and it is now a city not a village, I added my ‘pin tack’!
We were resigned to the fact that we had to stay the night and hopefully things would be resolved in the morning we were consoled by the fact that we were being treated as guests and had not been slung into a jail if indeed the village had one! We were shown our bed for the night, our host’s bed! If only I could have seen the funny side then, the bed was so high because it had about ten foam mattresses on it, remember the bed in the Princess and the Pea? But unlike the bed in the fairytale this bed enveloped you once you had managed to climb onto it because it sagged in the middle. I tried not to think about the cleanliness of the sheets I had to believe they had been changed. The next day we returned to the police office. Again we were told that because of the holiday nothing could be done everything shuts down for Eid. We knew that the possession of alcohol was illegal but did not know if this was the only reason we were being held. After more waiting we were told there was a ‘villa’ we could use. We were taken to the rudimentary building and took stock of our situation. We would need sheets so we went shopping.
We thought it strange that all of the small shops had windows full of eau de cologne and it wasn’t until a much later date that we learned this was the local tipple! We were sold what were described as bed linen but looked and felt more like curtains with their blue and white pattern and embossed texture. We had bacon and mushrooms in our cold box that needed eating and we headed for the beach.
We were soon cooking our illicit meal on the camping stove; the appetising smell filled the air. After we had eaten and cleared everything away we saw two helicopters heading towards us flying either side of a speeding cruiser. This intrigued us and as we stood there watching we didn’t notice the police cars approaching until they were beside us doors flung open and several agitated armed police jumping out. It was beginning to feel unreal were we becoming part of a mirage as the sandstorm generated by the vehicles engulfed us? Another fine mess we seem to have got ourselves into! More questions more anxious moments why were we there whilst King Hussein of Jordan and the lovely Queen Noor were travelling by boat to Aqaba? Were we potential assassins?
Our local dignitary bailed us out, everyone in the village knew us, they had just been following orders etc. etc.
We returned to our cell like ‘villa’ and listened to James Taylor on our small tape recorder; that depressed us even more. I was actually three months pregnant at this time but we had tried playing that card but it hadn’t cut any ice, the general response was a smile and to congratulate us. Not all responses to our presence were pleasant I’d had stones thrown at me by local children; I was, after all, despite my modest dress, a decadent western woman.
At times we thought of making a run for it but fear of the consequences made good sense prevail.
Having missed the Rose Red City of Petra on our journey to Beirut we had reluctantly decided not to go there on our return to Jeddah because we didn’t have time as my husband was due back at work, ironic really, as the days went by and there was no way of contacting anyone. Nobody knew where we were. I often think of this with today’s society and their obsession with mobile phones and the need to be in constant contact with each other.
Five days we spent in Haql, I shall never forget them, it gave me an insight into how hostages must feel as the days slip away and you become resigned to the enforced situation. We returned to Jeddah on our release, our pleas that we had not intended to bring alcohol into Saudi must have been believed. I have looked Haql up on Google Earth and it is now a city not a village, I added my ‘pin tack’!
