FEBRUARY 2005
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Letter from Gloucester Museum saying they would be delighted to host the exhibition next year of the collaboration of my paintings and Robert Fripp's 'Soundscapes' on the theme Paradise, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Later Robert Sandelson rings - R tries to signal to me that I should mention the idea to him when he asks what projects I am working on; but as we have been discussing a short internship at the gallery for Leonie, I'm not sure what he's signalling. So ring back shortly afterwards; he sounds really keen and is going to discuss it at the meeting on Thursday.
A day of building up tone on both the Maiko & Geiko and Fish Market, I've also taken a small pattern lines representing fish right up to the bottom of the canopies which feel quite evocative of Japanese woodblock.
Letter arrives from Lee in New York with some reference material for her commission and also kindly invites us to Puerto Rico.
Pattern the under kimono on the three geisha on the balcony.
Interesting item on BBC radio 4's Front Row last night; the Courtauld Institute are trying to trace a missing print Geishas in a Landscape, that disappeared from their collection some time ago. But coincidentally Vincent van Gogh had done a self portrait with this particular print in the background so from next week his painting will be exhibited there as a reminder.
Receive small cheque for royalties in this mornings post.
E mail from Lisa at Artworks (The Open Museum, Leicestershire) saying that the County Council there wonder if they could do a photo shot of me handing over Armchair Supporters which I have decided to give to them as Lisa had particularly liked it and it would compliment Beautiful Game which they bought earlier in the year and has already been booked out by schools until 2008.
We send images of three works to the Morohashi Museum of Modern Art who would like to borrow some recent pieces to complement their collection in an exhibition of my work this July thru November.
Send whole day and evening working into Fish Market, which have now removed from frame to paint around the white gessoed edge that it overlaps and the geisha canvas, painting into the maiko's beautiful floral hair decorations.
The Radio 4 Appeal today was Joan Bakewell appealing for donations for "Paintings in Hospitals" who now have 4,000 works in their collection which they loan out to hospitals, medical centres, doctors' surgeries etc. They have two of my works in their collection which hang in the children's cardiac unit in a hospital in Leicester
Bright, mild and sunny day. Eddy and Les, our senior builders are making good progress. We now have a very nice decorative brick arch above the garage door and we've planned a pattern of the blue black bricks within the red as a band around the upper half. They want me to go out and see the arch; I also go up the ladder onto the scaffolding to see how things are progressing up there.
Eddy tells me that Adrian, his son who is working in Thailand, had been to a restaurant where he'd seen one of my paintings reproduced on place mats. This is one of the downsides of the images becoming more global, people reproduce them without permission! But we pursue it as best we can as with a medical magazine in France where one of my collectors [ a doctor ] pointed it out to galerie Alain Blondel and The Investors Digest in Canada; the legal department at the Bridgeman Art Library were good at pursuing them eventually collecting three times the fee as a penalty.
Interesting e mail from Tempest Radford enquiring about the possibility of another commission for a second pair of paintings, which feels good as must mean they were pleased with the two for Standard Chartered Bank; as with Cantilever, who are also hoping to commission another work.
Today I paint pattern onto the obi and more to the hair decorations on the geisha canvas. It's interesting for me to see them on R's works in progress section of the website; the changes are now more subtle.
Great relief to hear from Alistair in Saudi Arabia that MJ is delighted
with the paintings so far; I had been a bit concerned as we sent the images
on Monday and had not heard back. But as Alistair said, you can always tell
when they are away or very busy as he is then unable to respond as quickly
as he would have liked. he also checks to see if I've received the final
payment, which as usual had been promptly paid into my bank account.
More patterning on the yellow kimono. Have recently been building up
the tone on the red lanterns so today give them more form by trying to creating
the illusion of the paper delicately held in place over a split bamboo spherical
structure. The Japanese have always been wonderfully creative using paper
as an art form. When we arrived at the hotel in Gion two small origami herons
greeted us as gifts lying on the bed.
I now have the third Japanese canvas back on an easel; making radical changes. Paint in large yellow Toyota taxi on the left hand side; it's partially overlapping the red taxi that I'd painted in November on the right hand side, trying it out. Have had this change in mind for some time. After I've roughed the yellow one in I begin to eradicate the red, giving a clearer view along the narrow street where in the middle distance I paint a rickshaw bearing a bridal couple from a Shinto wedding ceremony. I'd seen these in Nara; the young man pulling it had kindly taken longer stopping at the zebra crossing so that I could observe and photograph them. In Gion, Kyoto we'd seen a Shinto wedding ceremony in progress - very beautiful with the bride in her large circular white head dress, the shinto temple being open on three sides to public gaze, each side hung with white paper lanterns. The ceremony is often one of three, the others being Buddhist and Christian, that are performed on the same day requiring three different costumes. It's wonderful the way they mix and overlap these three religious traditions. Later in the evening after dinner I return to the red lanterns on the Maiko and Geiko canvas, working on the outer two. Interesting that there have been several gatherings recently of politicians, celebrities [ Bono and Bill Gates etc. ] and aid groups about wiping out poverty and debt in the third world, in Davros last week and on Thursday Nelson Mandella who is now 85 and officially retired was in London [introduced by Bob Geldolf ] speaking to the people and next day, the politicians., explaining that poverty is not a natural occurrence but man made. although there has been great awareness for many years it seems as if something more radical might be happening now. We have helped sponsored the education of children in Kenya for about twenty years.
E mails from art consultants and two private clients re: prospective commissions.
Good day on the big yellow taxi. Have started painting into the row of tiny traditional Japanese houses on the right hand side. Interestingly it has greatly increased my perception of the how and why they are designed and constructed in that fascinating way. Much happier with the colour now.
It's a bright sunny Shrove Tuesday, so light in studio good. have worked further down the line of small Japanese houses and restaurants on the right hand side of the canvas, placing three stories of a pagoda on the skyline at the end. These wonderful, often five storied building seem so characteristic of Japanese culture and are usually part of temple complexes. Miraculous feats of architecture for such ancient buildings. Later make a start on right hand side.
My Mum comes later for the traditional pancakes. Richard rolls spinach in them for the first course and lemon and sugar for the second, mmmm feeling very full.
Another enquiry through the art consultants for interested client so takes a bit of time out compiling details, prices and jpeg images to send. E mail also from Morohashi Museum re catalogue for the forthcoming exhibition.
Day in studio not quite as fruitful as repainting parts of frames where they'd needed resanding on both the Geisha and Fish Market canvases; the frames had been constructed in two parts and there was a slight variation in levels in certain lights. So very little progress on the Toyota Taxi.
For a day that started out with little or no communications, it ended up all being a lot clearer by midnight. Time mostly spent on the geisha canvas and frame, building up the tone with a texture of small lines on the structure of the balcony. After sending programme of what I've recently done, am doing and will do career-wise 2004/05/06 to the Royal West of England Academy at their request. R points out that he doesn't know how I will achieve it all but "in shaa' Al-laah" [ if God wills ] knows that with a little help from him too, I will. I'm interested to hear on Radio 4's PM that Saudi Arabia held their first ever election today with over 650 candidates on the ballot paper. Women can't vote of course but then I suppose that's where we were less than a hundred years ago. Seems like a momentous occasion historically so decide to e mail Alistair to ask if he can collect any newspapers or magazines covering the event. They might be very useful as reference for a large canvas or triptych on 50 years of Saudi Arabian history, an idea that recently evolved when I had been contemplating how best to use the ten canvases particularly as these are to celebrate the firm's 50th anniversary. I'm busy patterning kimonos and doing a little more to the big yellow taxi canvas when Richard comes into the studio at about a quarter to midnight saying "they had got permission for you to enter the Kingdom" He's just had an e mail from Lynda at Visa Services in London. But still no abaya from Kuwait. It was ordered three weeks ago but only set out on Tuesday this week.
Rather busy day with both phone calls from the other art consultants wanting a range of images to show a client and one later in the day from Robert who'd had a client in a couple of weeks ago looking at one of my paintings which I had since taken back. He's just rung Robert to say he's interested in buying it, so Robert's asking if it's still available. Also a call from Sophie Ryder the sculptress to inquire if I still have the painting \ constuction I said I would give to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children she thanks me for looking after it. It seems the new wing is nearly finished and they have a new arts co-ordinator looking after the project. She tells me she's running the New York marathon this year.
Have now started to paint figures in doorways, walking and on bicycles on the Toyota taxi canvas.
Having thought that now things were organised visa-wise, it seems that Alistair hasn't actually got it in his hand yet so it's possible that the schedule may have to be rearranged for a slightly later date and arrival point. We'll have to be patient - being creative we are perhaps more adaptable and less dependent on fixed plans than most professions.
Add two distant figures with red parasols in the distance behind rickshaw and three more to the left hand side of the new canvas also work into the taxi adding the lights on top and number plate which helps to punctuate the Composition. It is beginning to look more resolved even if I have had to sacrifice some of the painted buildings ; now overlapped by painted figures. Through the initial stages it had been like a stage set or ghost town devoid the players
Big excitement in Central Park, New York today as it is now full of 7,500 gates and 35,000 metres of saffron fabric by the artists Christo and Jean-Claude. They have totally financed the project themselves having had it in mind since the 70's. Mayor Bloomberg has been the first to embrace the idea. It's wonderful to hear the enthusiasm of visitors to the Park who it's reckoned will come in their thousands to see this amazing installation.
Interesting programme on the American playwright Henry Miller who sadly died in his 90th year on Thursday night. Early in his career he wrote radio plays. There is the repeat of a recorded interview with him covering these on Radio 4 at . He sounds to have been a very wise and compassionate man which was reflected in a series of plays called "The Doctor Files" based on his observations of the dedicated and miraculous work the doctors and surgeons did when trying to reconstruct faces and bodies of badly injured service men during world war two. He comments on the amazing spirit of the service men to overcome their disabilities he'd found it excruciatingly painful to watch them playing basketball in wheelchairs often leg less. In the 1940's he also made wonderful recordings for the Library of Congress of striking black women shirt makers who adapted spirituals to make their protest. He was also famous for having been married to Marilyn Monroe who he had known before she was a star and icon of her age.
R goes to Birmingham to collect my Armchair Supporters as they are going to Artworks, the Open Museum in Leicestershire. Then on to the Spark hill district to buy an abaya for me as I'm getting rather concerned that the others might not arrive. The shop's run by a very nice young Arab man who explains to Richard how the veil is worn etc.; he and his friend tell him about going on the haaj and what a wonderful experience it had been for them.
Meanwhile, after having walked my Mum round to her house, I work on the yellow taxi.
It Valentines day and it all seems to be happening at the same time. R arrives at the front door with beautiful bunch of flowers for me. E mail from Alistair saying that my visa is now winging it's way to the Embassy in London. Fedex parcel arrives and lo and behold the two new abayas plus two niqaab. Britta from Robert Sandelson gallery rings to say that Robert has sold The Hottest Day. I tell her Richard will bring it up today as he has to take our passports and visa forms to Linda at Visa Services to submit to the Embassy. After he's fulfilled these duties he pops to see Nathan.
I spend my day painting more of the small traditional Japanese houses to the left hand side of the yellow taxi canvas. Later I walk round to my Mum's with a pot of miniature red roses and a card I've made for her, to make sure she feels loved. But I immediately spot a beautiful pot of pink azalea and a card that she's received from Tommy her admirer at the Club. Think how wonderful to have an admirer at the age of 82. She gave him three oranges !!!
Airline tickets arrive by express post. Call from Linda at Visa Services to say that our visas are ready. She's very excited about the speed and efficiency with which it's happened and says Alistair will be very pleased. R's been to take photographs of a circular window in an old mission hall that is being demolished; Eddy [our builder] had spotted it so we are hoping we might be able to buy it and the surrounding bricks for the gable end. Linda calls back then to give me advice on what to wear. She's been to Saudi Arabia a few times and loved it.
Work on bicycles and kimonoed figure in the foreground and the front wheel on the yellow taxi [which had looked somewhat wonky] on the third Japanese canvas. Also the distant view along the narrow street with tiny figures.
Parcel from DGM containing the newly released first volume (1969-1974) 21st century Guide to King Crimson which I haven't seen before. As usual Hugh's done a really beautiful job of the design and presentation which is like a book and slipcase. It's wearing one of my newspaper works, 30/03/93 on it's front and back cover; on the slip case it's the The First Day of the New Millennium which I guess suggested itself from the title of their first album in 1969 "21st Century Century Schizoid man". The four CDs are each also wearing one of my paintings, a detail from Harry's Bar, The FT; Sunday and Expresso. Also a copy of a DVD, "Neal and Jack and Me" with my painting Fairground on the cover.
R goes to London to collect visas, returning the casino painting that we had borrowed from Brian to have a transparency made. He's currently acting as a broker for the person selling it. But it seems to have been one of those that escaped the net and never had a transparency made at the time of painting. I'd be tempted to buy it back but of course the amount it would be selling for far exceeds the sum I receive d in the '80s especially after the gallery had taken it's commission and of course they've considerably increased in value over that time. he then has supper with Nathan and is able to see the sculpture he is working.
In the studio I work both on a tiny painting that I started during the summer as a gift for MJ, as well as painting in a couple of bonsai trees in the windows of the Toyota taxi painting. Also start to resolve the frame and right hand edge of the canvas by making a small alley way between the two buildings.
In with Wednesday's parcel from DGM were three CDs of the Great Roberto's Soundscapes, one recorded in Glasgow, another in Manchester and a third in Helsinki. They are wonderfully atmospheric and evoke the mystery of the unknown. It will be an interesting project combining these ethereal sounds with my own visual interpretations of Paradise, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained.
During earlier part of the day work into the third Japanese painting on the outer right hand section of the canvas and frame. Then a shopping spree in Cheltenham to buy long black skirt, boots, long sleeved black top and scarf. After trying all these on under the abaya and veils, work into the little painting of the camel as a thank you gift for MJ.
Alistair phones early and speaks to Richard to see if we have received everything. Call from Brian Sinfield re transparency.
R takes the small painting in to be photographed and picks up a sewing machine for me to alter the abayas. My other machine is very old and temperamental now.
Add another pagoda in the far distance on the yellow taxi painting. Lovely call from Henrietta she and Kev are back from a skiing trip in Austria
We were up until 2 and watering my paints and sealing all the jars.
We must have been well packed as we leave the house on time. We are on jumbo jet and have to travel by coach across the tarmac which is an extra security measure. There are only 65 passengers, mainly men. Filling in the disembarkation forms I am struck by the red lettering on the top which says 'death to drug traffickers' which increases my awareness of how very different the culture we are about to enter will be. As we come in to land I notice how beautiful the symmetry of the road layout of Jeddah is; everything at right angles, unlike the meandering roads of Europe where the cities are much older and have developed over hundred of years. Most of Saudi Arabia's development has taken place in the last fifty years.
Disembarking in Jeddah, again to a coach, the heat hits us like a warm blanket. I'm already dressed in my abaya and scarf and am even more aware that I can only see a couple of women amongst the passengers. We are being met at passport control by Abdul, a Palestinian who will ease our way through this and customs, explaining that we are the guests of ALJ (which we later find out is the biggest employer - after the government - in Saudi Arabia). We haven't brought our laptop for doing e mail or the diary which is now being done in retrospect, as Alistair had warned that Customs will often take apart anything that has the capacity to play CDs or has visual imagery. We are nervous about our cameras; we've left the digital one behind as again Alistair warned that this would be more likely to be confiscated and if so would not be returned. But with Abdul escorting us we have no problems and rather regret leaving them behind.
Abdul, who chain smokes during the trip to the hotel, points out the Hajj terminal on route where the two to three million pilgrims from all over the world enter the country. Their permits only allow them to travel the direct route which encompasses Mecca, the Prophet Mohammed's birthplace (one of the five days there will be spent walking up Mount Arafat) and Medina where he died. These areas are forbidden to non Muslims but from photographs I've seen in the National Geographical it looks to be the most spectacular event with thousands of the pilgrims encircling the Kaaba.
Arrive at the Meridian Hotel about midnight. It's under French management so imagine it's been chosen for that reason.
After a very nice breakfast consisting of figs, yoghourt, the sort of
food I would normally eat, we are collected by our Philippino driver and
escort for the next couple of days Andy, who takes us around the city of
Jeddah, looking at the architecture. We've never seen so much new development
which spreads out into the outlying desert areas. He's particularly showing
us the famous roundabout, each of which is adorned by a large piece of sculpture.
We recognise works by Cesar and Vasarelly. One, the nearest to the ALJ headquarters
has an actual aeroplane that was given by the British government to Saudi
Arabia before the royal family there had used aircraft. So it was placed
here amongst sculpted clouds in this well ordered city.
After lunch in the hotel Andy takes us on a tour of the old district Jeddah.
After lunch back at the hotel Andy takes us to the old quarter, passing en route an area where men stand or sit on the pavement hoping for work. Usually men who have been on the Hajj, probably selling all they had to make the pilgrimage but not making enough to cover their return home. they are here without work permits and desperately poor. Andy says he often comes to give one a job when there is something he needs to have done. He's obviously a compassionate man and tells us when I ask, how much he misses the Philippines; he had come for five years but has stayed for twenty - for the last ten joined by his wife who is a nurse at the hospital. They work to see their children, who live with his mother in law back in the Philippines, through school and college. he longs to go back and grow vegetables, happy to be a poor man in his homeland.
This older part of the city, Al-Balad, is a beautiful reminder of the past, the houses no longer used but still shrouded in mystery. The lingering echoes of those who lived behind and peered though the ornate filigreed metal and wood work of the box-like windows protruding from the flat facets of the walls; windows without glass, designed to let the air and light in but to keep hidden the occupants, particularly the women who must not be viewed by men other that family when unveiled. Full of intrigue, one can imagine all sorts of scenarios reminiscent the tales of Scherezade's one thousand and one nights.
In the souk I manage to find an abaya that fits has sleeves and doesn't require holding on, freeing my hands to take photographs, so far only from the car. Alistair had thought it was illegal so has to be done with discretion and the guidance of our escort.
Then on to an outlying district for the car auctions which seem to take
place around a large barren roundabout with transport carriers of cars and
a few lorries in the centre. As we drive round it we are often pursued by
other cars with young men trying to make offers for ours. It's very funny
and info rmal with second hand car dealers sitting in plastic garden chairs
trying to attract punters.
I get up at 4.30am as Andy is collecting us at 5 to take us to the Fish Market. It is of course still dark when we are met there by Taha the Western Region Senior General Manager for ALJ. He tells us that he is also a fisherman and is very knowledgeable about both the fish and the people who work there. It's quite magical. The auctioneers standing on top of the boxes of fish which glimmer in the torch light. The lights don't go on until after prayer time. Very unlike the Tsuki market in Tokyo; here we are situated on the Red Sea next to the harbour where the fishing boats come in. Auctions and transactions take place at every level. Poor men come and buy a crate of lesser fish from the auction [ perhaps at 6 rials a kilo)to resell from baskets in smaller quantities for perhaps 10 rials in the market. Taha tells us of one man who eventually became a millionaire by working in this way. Here are men from many different areas of the country and of many nationalities. There's much excitement and calling out from the Yemeni who pose for me with large fish when they see my the camera. Later in the market itself we watch other men expertly skinning scaling and filleting the fish which they do for a very low price. The fish are particularly colourful. Several cats wander from place to place eating scraps that the workers seem to fondly give them. A plain clothed policeman has a discussion with Taha, who says he says that it's alright for me to take photographs inwards towards the market but not outwards to the sea where apparently a battleship is moored (although not of us can see it in the early dawn light). It seems fair enough as I'm here to take the market and this has only been made possible by Taha's warm embraces and exchanges with people like the beautiful old man who is the unofficial father of the market.
As we stand outside waiting for Mubarak, our next escort, to join us, Taha tells us with a grin how when he goes out fishing on his boat, he will occasionally come here if he hasn't had a good catch to purchase a couple of large fish to take home to impress his family.
Mubarak is great fun and after we have looked at all the amazing sculptures
situated along the Cornich (Moore, Hep worth, Miro, Cesar, Vasarelly) decides
we should go out on a boat trip as here they say you have not been to Jeddah
unless you have been on the sea. This glittering turquoise bay is of course
part of the Red Sea, called so because of the red coral that underlies it.
Whilst we sip orange juice on the jetty and are shown the hubble-bubble
pipes that Mubarak tells us the women particularly like to come and smoke,
he hires a boat and driver. He make sure that we all get a turn with the
driving. It is really refreshing and exhilarating to observe the architecture
from the water beyond the billowing white throbe and gutre of Mubarak as
he stands on the helm at once both sail and figurehead. Although most of
the development in Jeddah is new, it still embraces the warm colours and
shapes of traditional Arabian architecture. Most things seem to be on the
grand scale.
We go back to the hotel for a rest whilst Andy has to drive around collecting new return air tickets as the schedule has been changed. Apparently there is no way that I can attend the Thursday of the Festival which is the mens' day only. I will now see camel racing on Saturday afternoon / evening in Janadariah and in the morning the crafts village. This means we will not return to Jeddah on Friday as planned but will make our return flight to Heathrow directly from Riyadh in the early hours of Sunday morning; via Kuwait for British Airways to change their staff. Alistair tells me that they won't leave their air crew and stewards here!
At 4 o'clock Andy collects us and takes us on a trip in the car around
the vegetable market. We can't get out as we are only allowed to do so when
we have an official Company escort; this is of course for our own protection.
Then it's on to the Museum where we again meet Mubarak; this had been his
idea. It's an amazing place. We are allowed to take photographs outside
of the reconstruction's of old buildings but not inside; in fact we are
the only people here. Our guide takes us round many of the 365 rooms; often
reconstruction's of the interiors of old houses from different regions of
the Kingdom ; beautifully painted in bright colours with ornate patterning
which we are told often reminds Americans of Mexico. A whole floor is devoted
to Islam; here we see parts of the intricately woven fabric bearing texts
from the Koran, that covers the Ka'abah; it's ceremoniously replaced each
year, the old cloth being given to Princes and presidents who then often
divide it amongst the people or museums. Endless little rooms with old beautifully
illuminated versions of the Koran; pens and utensils used in the their making
; a very big room devoted to King Abdul Aziz who united the country; lots
of regional costumes etc. which Mubarak says we will be able get in Janadariah.
He then takes us to a tiny shop around the corner where we are able to buy some beautiful old bedouin silver jewellery and a pipe. Here I bargain with the help of Mubarak with the young man who is perhaps Egyptian as his colouring is slightly fairer. He then gave Richard a string of worry beads he had been admiring.
It's back to the hotel to pack before tomorrow morning's flight to Riyadh.
Andy collects us from the hotel at 8 am, it's beautifully warm as we arrive at the airport. He organises the luggage going through; he has been particularly concerned about our camera films not wanting them to be affected by the x-ray machines. We say good-bye, telling him that if he or his family comes to England we will be pleased to offer them hospitality. We are again examined separately by security and I have to call Richard for my passport to go through the women's search area. We are just about to have some breakfast when he discovers he hasn't got his boarding pass and approaches a Saudi Airlines representative who is passing. He asks why we're not sitting in the first class lounge and sends me there while he takes Richard off. He says it will be too late to get another, then reconsidering decides it might be possible. As I sit waiting in the first class lounge there are two last calls for our flight to Riyadh. I begin to worry about how we will handle letting people know; everything has been quite tightly scheduled. We are being met at the airport and it's the VIP reception at the Janadariah festival tonight. All the timing of this trip has been focused on this event. In the distance I hear Richard's voice and much to my relief he's been able to buy a new air ticket and pass which has meant another trip through security.
We hurry to the appropriate gate and just manage to get on the coach that again takes us across the tarmac to the Saudi Airlines plane. We are served with traditional Arabian coffee and dates (the former being a mixture of cardamom seeds and coffee). The air hostesses are not wearing veils over their faces although they do have a scarf-like attachment which hangs from their pillbox hat covering the rest of their head and neck. Before the plane takes off there's a prayer, which seems a rather good way to start a flight. During the journey I make notes and drawings on the gutras that I could see over the tops of seats and along the aisles, usually in red and white although some are entirely white with a woven design similar to the others. The pattern made by varying the thickness of the cloth. Richard has a conversation with the young man to his left who is involved with building a hotel and apartment block in Mecca. Both R and I had been surprised on seeing photographs in the National Geographical Magazine, that around the most important mosque in the world there were so many high buildings. In our naivety we had imagined pilgrims camping out.
On arrival at the airport at Riyadh I suddenly feel my eyes welling up. It's the sight of the totally veiled women even the eye slit covered and often the hands too. It's the total concealment of persona, identity and expression. I'm suddenly struck by how used I am to seeing the smiles or grimaces on the faces of people I pass. Hugely dignified and graceful, over the next few days I begin to understand the thinking and modesty of these mysterious and beautiful creatures.
We are met by Galleb, Senior Regional Manager for the Central Region and his driver. We travel first to the Royal Palace Hotel to be photographed for the security passes we will need for travelling to the VIP reception, dinner and opera at the Janaderiah Festival this evening.
Then we are taken to check in at the Al Faissalah Hotel, built by two or three sons of King Faisal, a quite extraordinary building designed by Norman Foster. We have lunch (again behind a screen in the family or women's area) and a nap. At four Galleb takes us back to the Royal Palace Hotel where we wait with the other VIP's in the atrium. I only spot two other women. the men are wearing varying costumes; Galleb points out to us the different regions or countries they have come from, such as the Emirates, Iraq , Iran, Afghanistan, Syria as well as different parts of the Kingdom. There are three coach loads; we are in number two the central one .there are several soldiers from the National Guard on board but it is not until we depart that we notice we are also accompanied by several cars with flashing lights in front, between and behind the cavalcade. A military truck full of soldiers and a military ambulance also following at the rear. The cars with flashing lights darting up and down the row stopping traffic from other directions. We are increasingly aware that this is a huge security operation. Even though each hotel or official building had security checks for all vehicles entering its facility, armoured cars with machine guns and concrete bomb barriers around its perimeters it was not on this scale. We now understand how concerned they are about the threat of terrorist attacks. It's 90 km to Janaderiah. The nearer we travel through the desert, to our destination the greater the number of soldiers and cars with flashing lights at the side of the road. They're thick on the ground by the time we arrive and we see in the distance a row of army trucks and encampment. We pile out; all but five of us into the mosque for prayers. A young Spanish woman who is the corespondent for The New York Times, an Italian journalist who may have been her partner and the man who is head of Arabic media in London. There are two soldiers praying nearby, having laid their caps on the ground. Several times we are invited to go into the banqueting hall by soldiers or the head of Palace Protocol, a charming man who becomes a great ally during the evening. Eventually we are moved in as Prince Abdullah and the other royalty attending will be taking this route which is being cordoned off. I'm put next to the journalist form the New York Times, probably because we are the only two women, apart from someone I spot later who is perhaps an ambassador. There's a lovely man sitting opposite me with a round smiling face; we keep exchanging smiles and he gives me advice on different Arabic foods to try; when he learns that we are english he mentions Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) and asks if we have read The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. It's the most amazing spread - whole sheep on platters at intervals along every table surrounded by endless dishes of colourful Arabian food. He is from the east of the country.
Galleb calls me to take photographs of Prince Abdullah and the other dignitaries including the King of Bahrain sitting at the top table. As we move from our seats we are replaced by the soldiers who in turn begin to eat; also cleaners and other staff. This is a wonderful Arabian tradition like their hospitality: everyone shares in the food. Then it's back on the coaches to travel the short distance across the village to the open air amphitheatre for the performance. Although as we as part of the VIP entourage are enclosed in a bullet-proof glass fronted section with Prince Abdullah and the other royal guests. It's a hugely patriotic performance with verses of the Koran and photographs of King Abdul Aziz projected upon the higher level of the stage which has two sets of stairs leading down to the lower stage. It opens with a speech from the former Prime Minister of Sudan and is followed by two poetry readings which Galleb tells me are in honour of Saudi Arabia and also say generous things about Prince Abdullah. It's interesting that Galleb and the audience join in by repeating certain words; this is a famous and very popular poet. When the opera opens he tells me that one of the singers, Mohammed Abdul is the most famous in the country and popular across the Arab world; he does have a very beautiful voice and the traditional dancing of these all male players is beautifully choreographed as they move to the hypnotic rhythms of the music So much so that we become aware of the audience at each side [outside], standing and swaying, arms held high, to the music. we would be unlikely to see this sort of fervour for a performance so immensely religious and patriotic, covering the history of Great Britain. This level of involvement would be more likely at Glastonbury, a pop concert or football match. It's very moving to witness such unity and brotherhood, the latter being an essential quality of Arabic culture. It's a spectacular production with a finale of a vast number of players, some on horses and camels. It culminates in a moving dance by Prince Abdullah who stands with the most enormous sword again swaying to the rhythmic music. Thanks to Galleb's determined efforts and the help of the Colonel who is head of protocol at the palace who says "we can do it, we can do it" as we weave through the thick cordon of the national Guard surrounding Prince Abdullah and the other princes, I am able to make my way to within feet of this majestic dance after one of the press photographers had been removed for me to take his place. I seem to get longer than the other press photographers and as the dance ends I move backwards past the row of princes. two of them ask me what I thought; I tell them how very moving I found it that prince Abdullah danced this final piece. One of them tells me that I must come to Wednesday's performance as they will all be partaking, the other says I should wait to photograph the salaam. My film runs out shortly afterwards. I am feeling quite elated at having got such good shots from this vantage point including one of the players below and another of the Prince Abdullah embracing a Bedouin who looks at the Prince with great awe and adoration. Now of course I have the problem of getting out of the cordon to reach Galleb and Richard. One of the soldiers says "you did well ma'am" probably because I'd made it to the front line as a woman and a foreigner - with of course a lot of help and manoeuvring from my allies. It's getting quite chaotic as the National Guard line the route making a channel for Prince Abdullah's exit. I'm relieved when they eventually find me. As we depart we again meet the nice man with the lovely smile from dinner who only has one leg. I say "we meet again" and he asks if I am here with my husband and I tell him that no, he is here with me.
We are checked back on the coach where we meet a professor of literature at the University and again exchange cards. The drive back in convoy is equally secure but we've now become a little blasé about it.
Galleb and his driver collect us at 10 am and transport us to the National
Museum which looks closed but after he speaks to both the two soldiers who
approach us and the staff inside, we start our tour. First past the archaeological
exhibits which are very interesting as they relate to Saudi Arabia's geological
structure. We had wondered whether the marble that we have seen used so
frequently in the buildings was local to the country and it is found in
three different areas. We then move through the Islamic history section,
again the Museum is full of quotations from the Koran. This is followed
by the local history area where there are reconstructions of regional dwellings
including a wonderful Bedouin tent. Although there is a perspex screen running
along the front of it I am suddenly aware that there is a man working the
bellows - it's our driver looking totally in place as he begins to demonstrate
to me the purpose of the various artefacts housed with in the display. He's
shortly joined by Galleb sitting cross-legged on the rugged floor, who beckons
me to join them. I am at first a little reluctant as in British museums
we certainly wouldn't be able to pass the perspex barriers and enter the
exhibits, let alone take photographs of them. I sit sideways on the camel
saddle before they show me that I sit between not on then Galleb places
one of the exhibits, a gutra, on my head making the experience more complete.
Shortly before we had been joined by Mammdo who has taken to borrowing
the camera to make photographs of us with the various 
exhibits. This
area of the Museum is particularly interesting and a great source of reference.
Later we descend back to the ground floor where there are wonderful exhibits
from Mecca; a huge section of the cloth that covers the Ka'abah accompanied
by a film showing both how it is made, it's history and the annual ceremonial
recovering of it. A pair of magnificent doors from the mosque; old illuminated
copies of the Koran and many hugely enlarged photographs of men making the
pilgrimage over the ages.
Something that had caught my attention during this visit was that both our young driver and Mammdo constantly played with their worry beads. It made me smile to watch them, so elegant in their thobes and guttras, rattling the strings as they swung and wound them around their fingers.
When we leave the Museum we are surprised to find it is raining - a warm refreshing rain that they tell us is the perfect weather after the cold of winter and before the intense dry heat that will shortly be upon them. They almost gasp with relief as they light up their cigarettes.
Galleb and his driver now move to the car that Mammdo has brought and
return to work. Mammdo is our escort and guide from here on. A handsome
young man who willingly gives up his weekend (Thursday and Friday in Saudi
Arabia) to show us many wonderful sights and share with us his thoughts
and knowledge on Islam, the culture and the country. We are going for a
traditional Arabic lunch but unfortunately the beautiful restaurant with
reconstructions of Bedouin tents and interiors will not allow us to eat
there. This is because of me; it's a 'singles' day so that only men were
allowed to eat there. Mammdo explains that it is a big problem as single
men are also not allowed to eat with families unless they are related. He's
very cautious and never says women, only 'families' but says that it does
make life very difficult. As we leave he beckons me to sit in one of the
rugged and cushioned areas full of Bedouin artefacts, brightly painted enamel
ware, coffee pots etc. for Richard to photograph us. But we are followed
by the restaurant manager so we quickly move off to find another tented
restaurant. Here it is a 'family' day. We get our own tent and soon the
floor is covered in an array of Arabic dishes that Mammdo has selected for
us to try.
His mobile phones, one for family and one for work, seem to go off constantly. Interestingly when he speaks to his sisters his voice is much softer; when it's brother or work colleagues there's a lot of laughter and almost shouting which is not anger but just the excited and enthusiastic way in which most of the Arabs speak. He tells us that the Arab likes rice but he tries not to eat very much of it as he wants to stay slim and eats very little of the lunch. He drops us back at the hotel whilst he goes to collect his nephews whom he has a very close relationship with, picking them up from school each day, likewise with their father, his brother most days they sit and talk. Family is very important in Saudi Arabia and he speaks to each of his five brothers and three sisters frequently. The two boys are very nice and like children in many countries of the world are wearing wide baggy jeans and tee shirts. They join us on our visit to Al Dy'dyriah the ruins of the old city of the Al Sauds; though many of the rooms and staircases are still in tact. It's breathtakingly beautiful; honey coloured, built out of a mixture of date palm and sand with decorative crenelations running along the roof tops; timeless we feel it looks almost Biblical. As we wander through these deserted narrow streets only occasionally glimpsing the veiled black figures and white throbes of distant families, we realise how privileged we are. Westerners are not normally allowed to visit archaeological sites without special permits. In the UK we would never be allowed to climb these ancient stairs to view the rooftop panorama from the safety regulations point of view. This would be a film maker or fashion shoots dream location.
Then on to the souk at Janaderiah.
It's dark now but all the stalls are buzzing and it's full of people.
I buy a couple of traditional embroidered dresses and several baskets 
before
telling that Mammdo I'm interested old Bedouin jewellery. He seems to know
where to go and enters a tent that is already closed up, then beckons us
in. It's a wonderful treasure trove. I immediately spot a mask or veil embroidered
on the front and backed with camel hide, coins with metal filigreed beads
suspended around it's edges and down the centre - it's quite amazing. I
hold it up to my face to look out through the two eye slots. The old man
who seems to be in charge has a beautiful brown weathered face contrasting
with the white cap and the brown throbe, holds up two sets of bell-like
silver beads, patterns impressed also on the leaf-like shapes and hangs
it down either side of my face. I lift up what I think is a silver necklace
but he shows me how it should be worn over the top of the veil across the
forehead. Then he shows me the necklace, again silver, that is worn below
it. Mammdo says he will get a price for them when we have selected the pieces
we would like. This includes a coined necklace each coin has silver filigreed
beads attached, in the centre a Marie Therese coin from 18th century Austria.
These at one time formed part of the currency for Arabia before they had
their own coinage, particularly because it was silver. I look at the heavy
metal sand moulded bracelets, selecting one and also a ring. Added together
the mask and accessories seem an extremely good buy at 1200 riyals - Mammdo
has bargained on my behalf whilst I took photographs of the deal and the
very old man who had once been drawn out from the back of the tent where
he sat on the floor, legs astride a tiny stove, by the excitement calling
out "rubies" as I tried on a red stoned hand piece with bells
and a ring for each finger. There is a younger man too who writes down all
the prices and says I can take photographs of the beautiful old man in the
back of the tent. Perhaps they are three generations. The deal was obviously
satisfactory for all as the man n the white cap gives me first one silver
bracelet then selects another and thirdly a rather beautiful ring. This
is a wonderful Arabic tradition the gift that signifies satisfaction at
the deal and friendship.
Mammdo's nephews have had his mobile telephones so that they can independently
buy things for themselves between carrying back our purchases to the car.
I worry that we will not be able to find them in the crowds and darkness
but they are already in the car flashing the lights so that we can find
it and them amongst the hundreds of cars parked on the sand. The souk is
now closing but Mammdo says he will take us to one in Riyadh when we've
driven the 90 km back to the city. Again this is full of intrigue and mystery
with little internal alleyways leading into one another packed with tiny
stalls in alcoves along the route. I tell him we want to buy an old sliver
coffee pot and he immediately navigates us to the appropriate store, where
we end up buying two, an old Bedouin beaded dress, a newer embroidered one
and two old beaded and embroidered cushions with camels on. There are numerous
carpet and rug shops vying for my attention but it's the camel bags I am
particularly interested in; beautifully woven angular patterns zigzagging
their way across the richly coloured surfaces with tassels of differing
colours suspended from their edges. We try bartering at a couple of them
but Mammdo moves us on if they don't enter into the bargaining sequence.
But we eventually find one where we purchase what we are told is a particularly
fine old camel bag plus a wide, tasselled, woven hanging that we are not
sure whether it keeps the camel warm in winter or adorns the tent. Again
Mammdo bargains on our behalf for these and a couple of smaller camel bags.
I am pleased with the deal and imagine they are too as I am presented with
two smaller bags at it's close.
The boys have been very patient and again carry our purchases back to the car before we go for dinner at a restaurant Mammdo is obviously familiar with. Again we have our own room or cubicle complete with television. Mammdo tells us that most families eat out at the weekend (Thursday and Friday). On our way out he takes us into a new area of this huge restaurant that has just been opened. There's an island in it's foyer area covered in stuffed lions, tigers and leopards. The manager starts showing me round, first taking me into one room where there's a large oval empty dining table sat on arm chairs at the other end are three men. He introduces me to Prince Sultan who is of course the Prince who runs the national football team. Football's very popular here and has been one of my main stays of conversation with Mammdo's nephews. He then asks if I'd like to go and meet the ladies. I wonder if this will be an imposition or if it will hold Mammdo and the boys up as it's now nearing midnight, the time when most women seem to go out. He takes me to another cubicle and suddenly I'm there amongst a group of about eight young women, without their veils, their dark glossy hair exposed, beautifully dressed and made up. The young woman I'm sitting next to tells me that she is married and has a baby; she spent her Honey in London and Paris. she asks if I have babies and why I haven't brought them with me. I wish I could speak more Arabic than the few words of greeting I have. I ask her if she'd met or known her husband before she married him. She a little hesitant and cautious but eventually says yes but it's a secret. She asks me if I was frightened about coming to Saudi Arabia, which seems to be closely followed by aloud crash when I immediately feel their arms around me as if to protect and shield. Then the relief that it's not anything serious. She grins at me and wittily says "You're not an Arab are you?" Interestingly when the manager opens the curtain to recall me she immediately covers her hair with her scarf and shouts angrily, "what you want ?" at him and I realise that the veiling must also afford them protection against the leering and over familiarity from men that women often experience in the west, although this man was just being very helpful to me and I was particularly grateful. He invited us to come back for a free coffee tomorrow.
When we get back outside the warm rain that has been lightly falling on and off is now quite heavy and determined. In the early hours of the morning we are woken, startled and mildly frightened by what at first sound like explosions but relieved to find it's a thunderstorm.
Mammdo will be at the mosque this morning so is collecting us after lunch. He drives us out to the old city of Al'Dy'riahh again which contrary to the sign on the gate is closed. To compensate he drives us around the outside for more photo shots, particularly of the areas that have now been reconstructed, before going to pray again at the beautiful mosque. This is build on the original site of the mosque of Al-Wahaabi co-founder of the first Saudi state in the late 18th century. Mammdo's a great adventurer and he drives us further out between the honey coloured mountainous rock formations, beautifully layered and sculpted with strata of ages. We travel along the normally dry river bed of the wadi but after last night's deluge it's almost a river again and although this is a high 4x4 Lexus with it's satellite navigation I don't think it was designed to be amphibious! We pass a similar vehicle being baled out! which persuades Mammdo to turn back and take another route.
Picnicking families have congregated along these remote road and rock sides but Mammdo tells me I mustn't photograph them. Taking photographs of women is not allowed in Saudi Arabia - they do not like it. So I record by memory the picturesque scene, large Arabian rugs laid on the ground, where they sit,children playing, women veiled and often in a separate group to the men. Mammdo says they love to get out of the city back to the desert or the mountains at weekends particularly on Friday afternoons after the mornings prayers. We had received a kind invitation from Galleb to join his family for a barbecue; it would have been nice but Mammdo tells him on the mobile phone that we can go to a barbecue anytime in our own country! He's right, we wouldn't see these exquisite scenarios at home. We pass a group of wild dogs climbing like wolves or mountain lions up the rock face; quickly they are silhouetted against the sky line like a shot from a wildlife film. Pale and lean they often merged into the rockscape. Dogs are not loved here, they are shunned as unclean, which might accounts for this pack. Parts of this huge rocky landscape are walled off by long honey coloured walls with white pointed crenelations, probably having been acquired by the very wealthy to build homes in this remote and less accessible terrain.
On our way back we pass a walled area that runs on for miles ; Mammdo tells me it has been bought by King Faad as a nature reserve where he will come to sit on some afternoons enjoying it's beauty and tranquility. Later we pass the University, [male students only] a huge sculpted book on a roundabout at it's entrance. Mammdo has been studying for a degree after work each evening for a long time and hopes to graduate next year. He says that although education is free he pays as he also works. The working day is long and divided here a concession to the climate, often starting at 7am. until about 1 and then continuing at 5 often through till midnight. Women, who do not work on the whole, shop and eat into the early hours; malls and souks staying open to accommodate them. They then often sleep until midday.
During this return journey we park on the sand near a garage with an open prayer room for Mammdo to pray. In the darkness we can see men washing themselves at an outside tank before making their prayers. It's a moving experience to witness such devotion five times a day at the hypnotic call from the minarets. Mosques are everywhere, most businesses have one or a prayer room, enabling these devout people to pray at frequent intervals.
When we reach Riyadh Mammdo stops at a bookshop where he disappears for a few minutes, returning with a bag full of books that he presents to us; 'Women in the shade of Islam' 'The family in Islam' and other books on the faith. I think I've asked him so many questions about the religion that he's decided these will help to answer. He's very kind and over coffee before dinner he gives me his beautiful tasselled string of green worry beads. I hope I haven't been admiring them too much as it's an Arabic tradition to make a present of anything that is extremely admired by a guest. They are a very generous and hospitable people.
I wanted to get some coffee cups so Mammdo takes us to a supermarket.
Unbelievably cheap at about 8 riyals a set of twelve (there are 7 riyals to the pound) I buy two sets, one gold and one white/turquoise; two heavy glass strings of beads with golden tassels; two wooden boxes with brass inlay; some pot holders and two glass paperweight, one with an impression of the mosque at Mecca and the other of Medina. A bargain the whole lot only comes to 65 riyals ; an extra coffee mug appears in our basket as a gift.
This was our second visit to the restaurant that evening; we couldn't be served earlier as it was prayer time. Whilst we are drinking our coffees and mint tea, Mammdo asks the manager if I might go in to speak to some ladies, which he duly organises. I'm taken into the next cubicle where there are three attractive young women. Again unveiled they are students and would have looked equally in place in the West; their English is good and two of them smoke quite heavily. When I later tell Mammdo that one of them was from Mecca he comments that women from Mecca are heavy smokers. They are very accommodating and before I ask them any questions tease me that in the west we think they are still riding around on camels. One also runs and accessory business and gives me her card, saying call me. I ask the particularly beautiful girl I am sitting next to about relationships and arranged marriages. She says that often the couple are able to meet over a period of two or three months at the girl's parents home and if at the end of that time she does not think he is suitable she doesn't marry him. Two of them are studying computer technology. I decide to leave when I realise that the young woman I'm talking to hasn't eaten her meal, which looks as if it might be hamburger in a bap with french fries. Like students everywhere American food obviously has strong appeal. Mammdo who has been sitting smoking on the other side of the screen has, with Richard been listening into my conversation and they tease me saying I should have got their telephone numbers for him. We then go downstairs to eat. Galleb joins us for glass of what they call Saudi Champagne - a blend of fruit juices tasting better than the real thing and without the alcohol.
It's our last night in the hotel. We are too late to take up the offer of having a box packed with the camel bags etc. by the staff as it's already midnight. they have however found us a stout box and parcel tape. R's made a good job of packing it but we still have all the baskets which we decide to deal with in the morning. It's now 1 am and I realise we haven't been up to the observation platform. We go down to reception who then phone through and arrange for us to be taken up. This Norman Foster Hotel is part of a huge complex that also contains a shopping mall which means that westerners don't have to leave the building. We arrive in the atrium to be met by a young rather cool Kenyan, striking in his flying boots and dark uniform. He takes us to the three levels in the geodesic dome, one being a restaurant, another the coffee lounge and thirdly the outside platform from where we view the city of Riyadh from all sides; quite magical. Again, the layout perfectly symmetrical in it's planning - parallel roads traversed by smaller streets at right angles all brightly lit like strings of beads. Our escort is an expert on this building and shows us on our descent, the drawings and models made by Norman Foster's team during it's design. He had not originally envisaged the geodesic dome but the princes who were commissioning it had seen a similar one in Kuwait which also rotated. because the Al-Faisallah was already partly built Foster was not able to make this one rotate but it's interesting to hear that even architects of his standing have to often adapt their designs to accommodate the wishes of the commissioner.
Spend morning packing and R arranges with the concierge to have the camel bags, baskets etc. shipped back in the two boxes. Mammdo comes to collect us with Oman who is Syrian. He'd spoken to me on the phone yesterday from Jeddah - his father was a professor at the University but is now an educational advisor. Mammdo says he's got good news and bad news, which do I want to hear first? The bad news is that due to the torrential rain the craft village at Janaderiah which was going to open up early especially for me to visit won't now be able to do so. But Richard will be able to go in early evening with Oman when it opens for another men only day. Secondly the camel racing has also been cancelled due to the wet condition of the ground. Feel rather despondent; I'd looked forward to seeing the unlikely spectacle of young boys velcroed to camels in a quest to out speed the others. But the good news is they will take us out to see a camel farm in the desert. Beautiful and timeless each enclosure with a tent or two where the keeper lives and stores his chattels his camels contained by two or three strands of barbed wire intermittently attached to irregular posts and nothing else. An old Bedouin comes out from one proffering a brightly coloured traditional enamel bowl [like those we had seen in the museum], full of frothy camel milk. His face enhanced by weathering and age he allows me to take photographs of him, the froth of the milk still laying on his upper lip. I watch fascinated as the camels change form, awkwardly manoeuvring their long sinuous many jointed, legs from from a kneeling recline to an elegant stand before loping heavy lidded to the feeding bins. We move onto a group of pale wooly curly haired beasts with their elegant keeper, perhaps from Somalia, his black skin contrasting exquisitely with the white of his throbe and head dress. This humble man looked so dignified and graceful as he affectionately stood gently stoking his camels silhouetted against a blue sky punctuated by white clouds, the desert stretching back as far as the eye could see, with only the occasional tent on the horizon. There were black camels too; Oman tells us these have been painted with bitumen as a health protection.
Then it's back into Riyadh to collect Mammdo's nephews from school. A veiled woman is standing with them ; I imagine she is their mother. We exchange greeting as she gets in the car and I say to her, "you have two very nice sons." But realise when I hear her talking with the two boys that the voice is very young. I've made an awful mistake! she is their sister! Young women begin to wear the abaya and veil at puberty, which makes it very difficult to recognise the age or status of the woman.
After we've dropped them off at their home we drive back out into the desert towards Janaderiah. We are going to have another traditional lunch but before we start, Mammdo and Oman have to pray. They are great friends and it's interesting to observe the affection between them. Men here openly display, gestures of friendship unabashedly hands and embracing. This is brotherhood is not an indication of homosexuality which is, like adultery punishable by death. In Jeddah Andy had pointed out to us the area next to a mosque where public executions take place.
The meal's brought in, a vast array of different dishes many of them with a basis of lamb; rice dishes; vegetable dishes and bowls of salad. We drink fruit juices but Mammdo has a Seven Up which seems a little incongruous but seems to be universal habit along with Coke of the young . A cat is mewing outside of the tent; Mammdo passes a piece of lamb to it through a gap in the canvas. Before leaving I spot another cat sitting on the pointed of the top of one of the tents, taking the sun and viewing from this vantage point where the most likely source of food would be.
We drive on to Janaderiah where Richard and Oman get out to visit the craft village. Of course being a woman I'm not allowed to go in. But Mammdo encouragingly says "come and sit in the front". No sooner have I clambered up onto the seat beside his than there's a gutra clad maatwan, one of the religious police standing at the window on his side. A loud exchange of shouting begins and although I do not know what they are saying I aware that it is about me!!! I hold my scarf across the lower part of my face like a veil. Soon the maatawan is joined by a group of military policemen. I'm worried. The thought of being arrested on my last day is quite shocking! I wish Richard was here and think how ironical that as he and Oman had walked away from the car this turn of events of which they are quite oblivious has occurred. The shouting is quite loud as I sit frozen in one position not daring even to turn my head to look at them; I am trying to think myself into a dissolving disappearance. After what seems like an eternity but is probably only five or ten minutes, Mammdo tells me to get in the back and drives off. He explains that the Maatawan had seen Richard get out of the car and obviously thought it most suspicious that I then moved to the front to sit next to him. He explained that he wasn't a driver but as I was a guest of ALJ he was escorting me around Riyadh and Janaderiah. He had argued with the maatawan (who are the all powerful religious and moral police in Saudi Arabia), saying that it was not the law or Koranic but old tradition that forbade men and women who are not related, to sit next to one another. He told him that if the the military police said it was so he would obey. Obviously he's had to step down from his brave stance but determined to have the last word Mammdo stops the car a mile down the road and tells me to sit in the front again but to cover my face. So for the first time during the trip I put on the niqqab or veil I had come prepared with. Later as we join cars parked on the sand for viewing what seems to be a big pass time with young men, the driving and bumping up and down of cars and motor bikes over the wind formed sand dunes of the desert, their lights twinkling in the dark he says I'd better get in the back again and purchases two tubs of hot chickpeas in a vinegarish sauce and two bottles of water. Giving me one of each he says that he often comes here with his nephews and niece to sit and eat these 'beautiful' dishes in the dark whilst they watch the vehicles traversing the hilly terrain. He's on the mobile phone for some of the time and I'm beginning to feel a little agitated as I'd hoped he would take me to the souk as requested when he'd asked earlier what I would like to do. I'd forgotten that Arabs hate to say "no" if a thing isn't possible. I try ringing Richard but a voice in Arabic seems to be telling me that I can't get through. Whether Mammdo senses my disappointment or time's running out we soon move off in the direction of Janaderiah. I wonder why he stops to buy two more bottles of water but shortly after we pull up again. He tells me he's going to pray asking if I know where and since we are surrounded by desert I say Yes, on the sand. he takes the two bottles of water and before descending out of the car describes to me how he will wash his mouth, nose, face , whole of his head, back and front of his ears in order then from finger tips to elbow and finally we say in unison, the feet. He's a very devout young man and although I would have liked to observe both the washing ritual and his prayers, [ all of which he does out of sight ], I respect his private devotion and do not shift across the car to look. Sitting in the black silence I find it wholly moving. When he gets back in he shivers a little, brushes the water out of his hair with his hand and says "it's very cold". We drive on and eventually park at Janaderiah. Excited by the prospect of the souk I wait in anticipation. Poor Mammdo turns to me and explains that it is very difficult in Saudi Arabia; he cannot take me into the souk because we are not married or related. But soon Richard and Oman will be back, he's phoned Oman and our lights are Flashing to attract their attention. At last we can go to the souk; time's almost run out but we do manage to purchase a large beautifully patterned rug [very cheap] like those I'd seen the picnicking families sitting on yesterday and a smaller heavier woven one. When I mention buying dates Oman presents us with a big bag he bought for himself in the craft village saying "they are the best" he'd like to start a business exporting them to the UK [they are delicious]
En route to the Riyadh airport we stop at a very beautiful restaurant and hotel which has a particularly good bedouin tent in it's courtyard full of all the tools utensils that they use to live. I sit with Oman and Mammdo for final photographs before we meet Galleb at a pool side table after they had prayed again.
It seems sad to be leaving the new friends who have enabled us to gain a wealth of information and reference for the series of paintings I have been commissioned to make on Saudi Arabia. After finishing our tea and coffee we bid farewell to Galleb thanking him for all the help and good organisation he arranged for our stay in Riyadh. Mammdo and Oman drive us to the airport. Oman takes us through check in. We buy more papers and magazines. He tells us that a lot of young men also buy the womens' magazines, enjoying the photographs of unveiled women. Sitting waiting for our flight we chat with a large South African who works for the Bank of Riyadh; he's lived here in a compound for ten years and has not had the experience of seeing the sides of Saudi Arabia that we have been privileged to view. Life in the compounds is Western, like a little town from the foreign non Muslims workers own country but with all the restrictions of Saudi law. I'm chatting to another man, vice president of the Bank of Riyadh who gives me his card (saying he only gives them to nice ladies) for if I need any help when I'm next in the country.
Our midnight flight stops in Kuwait where the British Airways crew change over and more passengers board. The hour there passes quickly and we are soon back in the air. I doze most of the way back and it's not until after we've landed in London on a chill early Sunday morning that R tells me we flew over Iraq and Bagdahd!!!
Arrive Heathrow 6.20am. The cold greyness chilling us as we walk out to the car. We are back home by half past eight. Lots of post and a 'call urgently' message from the Art Consultants. There are daffodils on the table and a 'welcome home' card from my Mum who has missed us greatly and been rather worried for our safety she now admits, especially as she has had friends who have shown concern. But she was very good and didn't tell us this before we went.
It's good to be back in the studio later in the day, warming up for the huge amount of work with he ten commissions of paintings based on my observations of Saudi life and culture. And I've still two Japanese paintings to start from the previous commission.
Call from Joanna at the Art Consultants saying that the architect who has been working with an international finance company, really likes my work and would it be possible to bring up available pieces for Wednesday. This means I make calls to Robert my London dealer and Rob Whittle in Birmingham as will need to borrow some back.
Working on the yellow taxi painting, I decide to paint three Japanese men in suits getting out which means losing the woman in the doorway.
E mail from the Pursports asking how the Sweet Shop is progressing so
now doing little bit of refining on the jars of sweets in between.