Open Writing

After eighteen months and two household moves my husband and I decided it was time to take stock of our unsatisfactory housing situation and try something else.

The housing compound we had lived in up until then was fairly large and boasted about eighty percent occupancy. However, we were not happy with our villa. It was a badly designed one-level place with two bedrooms, a gigantic kitchen and a long, but narrow, lounge. During the morning the desert sun beat down into the lounge windows – as high as the ceiling and almost the length of the wall – and by late afternoon it had focused its fiery attentions on the kitchen, making it uncomfortable to say the least.

To make matters worse, the reason we had moved there in the first place – proximity to my husband’s work – had suddenly become the main reason for leaving. The engineering firm’s office is located within the compound and the line between work and play had become blurred. It was not uncommon for Amer to come home for dinner only to ‘disappear’ back into the office until nine or ten at night, drawn back by the spectre of the never-ending deadline.

Now that the decision had been made, the bigger question was do we live “inside” or “outside”? As we were about to discover, each choice has its pros and cons.

Over several weekends we viewed seven compounds – and couldn’t agree on any. We toured housing compounds of varying standards, from the unexpected dismay of a “ghost” compound of pre-fabricated shacks and knee-high weeds to jaw-dropping awe at the huge, sparkling villas with facilities to match any five-star hotel.

I fell madly in love with a one-level, three bedroom villa with wall to wall carpet throughout and a private paved back yard with trees. However, Amer decided he could find something cheaper. So the search continued.

Then we looked at private, “outside” villas. Larger, newer and more affordable on average (almost half the cost of compound living) we viewed two villas before my husband decided it was not a good option for us.

The first was a large but basic, labyrinth-like monstrosity with gigantic ants trailing their way through the house. Not exactly an inspired choice.

However, when it came to the next place, I immediately imagined myself there. Brand new, it was a three-level, five bedroom mansion with a maid room. Enclosed by three-metre concrete walls, it came unfurnished, required a year’s rental upfront and showcased the most stunning chandeliers I have ever seen in a private residence. While I made a mental checklist of the furniture required to grace its marble floors – overstuffed, Arab style sofas, Rosewood dining suite - my husband was doing the sums.

It transpired that by the time we employed a fulltime maid, driver (plus second vehicle) and bought furniture, we would be paying a similar amount to that of the compound life. The drawbacks of maintenance (we have heard horror stories of the “outsiders” plumbing problems and waiting days for service), my lack of Arabic and the inconvenience of no grocery store onsite made up ‘our’ minds – it was back to the compound for us (bye bye dream house…..sigh).

After a month of searching, we ended up at the original housing compound in which we started life in Riyadh in early 2004. The difference was that this time we secured a spacious two-bedroom villa on two levels instead of a small apartment with no back yard. It is positioned right next to the playground and we are now waiting patiently (one month now) for the two-metre-high fence to be built to rein in eleven-month-old Faris. More important are the stair gates, as I have had to pluck Faris from the third step on several occasions, so determined is he to scale his personal Mt Everest.

Our compound is one of the smaller ones but has almost 100% occupancy, thus keeping the tradesmen busy with various projects.

As far as the flooring goes, white tiles dominate throughout, even on the stairs. There is not a scrap of carpet apart from the couple of Iranian ones we bought from the souq.

All the compounds here abound with security – Saudi National Guard - complete with automatic rifles and armoured vehicles. However we are probably more likely to become targets living in a compound so, realistically, outside life could actually be a safer bet (wonder what the odds are…).

However, we have met many new friends from such diverse countries as Germany, Jordan, Lithuania and Bosnia in the short time we have been in our new compound and look forward to meeting many more.

Surely, the sharing of cultures and the creation of friendships – some fleeting, some lingering – form the true essence of life, fulfilling and enriching a person far beyond what they may ever have experienced had they never left the security of their home.