An Unhealthy Obsession With Lulu

Back in London, I used to live a two minute walk from Waitrose.

I mean, there was a decent Sainsbury’s nearby, a Tesco Metro at the bottom of the road and an Asda convenience store close by. Despite its rumoured extravagant pricing policy, the two minute walk was always the deciding factor in where I collected my groceries.

Waitrose it was!

It was all too easy to pop in for anything and everything.

Need a pint of milk? 

No problem. Stroll over to Waitrose. Easy.

But I would always return home with a dozen bags of other items that I hadn’t intended to buy but had decided were also essential while stalking the aisles. A task made all the easier by Waitrose having their own “Essentials” range to guide me to the, well… essential choices. I took the title at face value and stocked up on anything and everything in the range. After all, the items in the range must be essential based upon their vitamin range, high fibre, low sodium, low sugar, and low fat or “good” cholesterol content. Obviously.

I mean, John Lewis wouldn’t put anything “bad” in the range, would they? Come on, they’re too trustworthy, too honourable and too – downright bloody - “British” to do such a bad thing.

So. Following this logic, I would regularly end up eating an entire packet of Waitrose “Essential” Chocolate Malted Milk Biscuits as one of my five portions a day.

Maybe moving to Saudia Arabia would be good for me. Kick my bad habits.

I confess, I knew little about Arabian cuisine before moving here. In my head, I assumed that it would be all grilled meats – mostly lamb - with simple veg, flat breads and hummus. Everywhere out this way eats Hummus don’t they?

I knew or expected little else.

My only other thoughts and ideas about food were influenced by a former colleague – let’s call him Sadat, because that is his name. Upon learning that I was moving here, his eyes glazed over and he appeared to explore all the darkest recessed corners of his mind, reviewing everything he knew about the country, before declaring that “Saudi’s love Biriyani”.

On the flight over from London, I was served a chicken biriyani.

Sadat; I thought of you.

So I arrive and find that everything is kebabed. As I expected. Only it’s mutton not lamb, beef and chickens. Oh, how they like chickens. And it turns out, I had missed the obvious one. Dates. Arabs love dates. Loads of ‘em. With coffee that makes Turkish coffee sound and taste like watery pish.

But the Arab food is nothing when compared to the worldly choice that you can get in the Kingdom. Ignoring the restaurant and take away options, the supermarkets are a revelation. Food from every corner of the globe. America, Britain, Europe, India, China, Thailand, the Philippines, Turkey, Morocco and Japan. Unsurprising, really, because the only thing that Saudi’s appear to love more than food is “shopping”. So the Supermarkets/Hypermarkets allow both hobbies to be pursued in pleasurable unity. And – as a Waitrose veteran – I have been pulled in.

I have fallen in love. I am in love with Lulu.

Lulu is beautiful. Lulu is bountiful. Lulu is everything a person could ever hope for, want or desire.

Lulu is a Hypermarket.

And she is a mere ten minutes stroll from my apartment… and five of those are through her car park!

Aisle upon aisle of choice and opportunity. Fresh food, tinned food, dried food, chilled food, frozen food. Home wares.  More home wares. Even more home wares. Cosmetics. Toiletries upon toiletries. The floor space goes on and on for ever and ever. Far beyond the horizon and possibly half way across the desert to Riyadh. It is possible that she spans time zones. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never reached the end.

And upstairs. Fashion stores. Boutiques. Phone stores. Electronics stores. Everything!

But – in comparison to UK supermarkets – it all feels a bit disjointed. Every aisle is a revelation because it bears no relation to the aisles either side. At first this is a bit disorientating. I’m a man. I shop by walking around and picking up exactly what I know I want and nothing more. I have no need or desire to browse. I want to get in and get out. As quickly as possible. Just like making love to a beautiful woman…

Joke.

Lulu is a wily and cunning woman. The disjointed and haphazard lay out eventually breaks you down.

Lulu woos you with her aisles.

Oh my dear, dear, beautiful Lulu.

I love your deli, your hot food/Indian snack counter and the biggest display of McVities digestives that I have ever seen framed in an impressive model of Tower Bridge.

But I am less keen on the way that you close all the tills and indiscreetly lower the shutters during prayer times making me wait in a queue for twenty minutes.

But I forgive you. For I love you.

Lulu. Khobar. Dressed Up For Another Night On The Town.

I read a piece recently about obesity around the world last week. It was on the BBC News website but I can’t find it when typing this. I have found an article - see the linky thing below - that uses the map that it referred to, though noting that 35+% of Saudi Arabia’s population are obese. And it didn’t surprise. From day one, I have been struck by the number of overweight Arabs that I see…

GLOBAL OBESITY

And Lulu offers an insight into this. It’s a lifestyle thing.

I was stunned at the range of “shit” that is on offer. I'm European and am fully aware of how much shit is pushed onto the population through advertising and their retail conduits. But in Lulu, every other aisle seems to offer a variation on sweets, confectionery and dairy produce that makes my eyes water, arteries harden and teeth ache. Saudi has really bought into “western” treats. Aisle upon aisle of European and American confectionery before you bring multiple sections dedicated to fresh, packet and preserved Indian and Asian sweets.

OK. Khobar is a very American city. Her influence is everywhere. But it would be stupid, churlish, wrong, petty and too easy to try and lay blame solely at their door. The stuff on sale is not just being bought by the Yanks. After all, most Americans won’t make it to Lulu because their communities and compounds have their own American supermarkets which – I imagine – pander far more directly to their buying habits. Lulu is there for all the communities. And it appears to revel in the junk as much as the wonderful fresh fish, fruit and vegetables on offer.

But. For the most part, I am being good.

McVities may offer a taste of home in the absence of Chocolate Malted Milk but I'm letting myself absorb the Indian options on offer with fresh vegetables and pulses. I know I used to live in Alperton, Tooting and South Harrow, but Lulu’s options are so much more exciting and enticing.

But I'm all too aware that she’s local enough that I could get back into my bad, old Waitrose habit. 

Wish me luck.