Al Khobar

So.

Khobar. Al Khobar. Alkhobar… Whichever you prefer.

Wikipedia – renowned source of all truth – tells me that it is third largest industrial city in the Kingdom. In theory, it is separate from Dammam and Dharan, but having travelled around it I am buggered if I can see any boundaries. Wiki kindly calls it’s a “mega city”. It’s a few years since I graduated and I have forgotten my definitions of cities. But "mega city" doesn't ring a bell. I have more memory of Mega City Four. And they were nothing compared to The Family Cat. (Don't believe me? Check them both out!)

But back to Khobar.

It sits in the east of the country at one end of the causeway to Bahrain. Bahrain is the playground of the Saudi’s who visit it to let their hair down and do everything that is outlawed in the Kingdom.

Sex n Drugs n Rock n Roll.

It’s close proximity to the relatively free regime over the water means that Khobar attracts Western businesses. Staff are able to get away from the rather strict Islamic code from time to time for a beer. Aramco is the largest employer. It is the largest oil company in the World.

Lesson over.

But feel free to watch this video. I skimmed through it. The way the music builds and develops has to be heard to be believed... To be fair, it is a pretty comprehensive video showing all the sights:

I live five minutes from the sea front and two of the main drags through the city. One direction, the sea and landscaped gardens, the other crazy shopping streets and markets. The former is tranquil and sedate, the latter threatens to overwhelm all your senses.

I live in a modest apartment block. But it has a pool on the roof, a free gym and a friendly and scenic café where you can waste away hours drinking cheap tea. My apartment is functional but not luxurious. I like it but am keeping an eye for summat better at the same price.

This corner of town is largely Indian Asian, Filipino and Thai. The cafes and restaurants are incredible.

The city is a building site. It is a city very much in transition. For all the impressive glass buildings in the city centre and the modern and slick western style hotels and restaurants on the Corniche, there are a hundred incomplete developments with vast sandy expanses between them where – I guess – buildings will one day be erected. This makes the city feel disjointed and a bit surreal. Wastelands.

But anyone who knows me well or keeps an eye on my photography will know that I am happy as a pig in shit in such environments.

Thankfully, the city is entirely non-threatening. I don't think that it is a result of the severe Saudi penalties for crime but because it is a working city. Everyone is here for the same reason, to make money. As a result, people just "get on".

Although not as obvious as my predecessor who wore near complete sleeves and became known as “The Painted Man”, it is very obvious that I stand out as a “white” man. As a result, I am a stranger. But the locals seem quite chatty, which I like. 

The local kids offer me cigarettes and don’t understand why I don’t take them. They seem excited that I am not American, which - in truth - excites me, too. Being English allows us to break the language barrier and discuss important things in pidgin…

Kids - “Liverpool?”

Me - “NO!”

Kids - “Manchester United?”

Me - “NO!”

Kids – Getting excited - “Chelsea?”

Me - “NOOOO!...... Brentford.”

Kids - “I no understand.”

But they will learn.

Football is all over the Saudi media. Unsurprisingly, the locals follow the European leagues. Barcelona, Real, AC, Inter, Bayern, Liverpool, Manchester City and Chelsea. Weirdly, it only seems to be fat kids who wear Chelsea shirts. No idea what this may mean or signify, but that is what I have noticed. Happily I bumped into a guy in LuLu wearing a Bilbao shirt. So, it isn't all bad.

It’s approaching autumn so is only 38 degrees at the moment rather than the 48-50 found in July and August. Being by the sea, the evenings are really humid. The streets are quiet until late afternoon when the sun is going down. Go down to the Corniche at the weekend and you can’t move for families barbecuing and lounging around under the street lights making the most of the relative cool.

I have to avoid the Ninja’s though. Not allowed to look at them. And come Friday night, they are everywhere. It becomes very difficult.

That said, I'll admit that I have broken the rules. I couldn’t help but note one in “killer” heels the other day. Her Birka hung six inches above the floor to make sure no one missed the crystal encrusted heels and platforms.

I saw her feet.

Oh my god!

Phhhhwwwoooorrrrr!