The Bank

I know Bill….. The spelling and grammar have gone to hell since Jan stopped the proof-reading!

It  was interesting walking back to the hotel last night listening to the prayer callers warbling in competition over the loud speakers on the many mosques in the local area.  I guess not having to walk to the top of the minaret five times every day means they have probably lost their fitness.  Some of the warbling actually sounds rather musical and attractive.  Although I was stunned for a brief moment when I was sure I’d hear “Dance with me and kiss my arse!” Surely not; it must be my poor hearing.

Today’s plan was to go to a bank to exchange some of my UK pounds for Saudi Rials.  I chose the central bank of SABB in Riyadh as it has the HSBC logo and I suspect it’s actually a HSBC joint venture.  The interior was very modern but crowded with migrant workers.  Actually, as all the ‘illegal workers’ have recently been deported it can’t be nearly as crowded as usual.  Anyway I joined the queue at the information counter (it’s called ‘Fast Service’) and the queue slooowly advanced.  Then the adjacent ticketing machine where you obtain your queue number burst into life and i was nearly crushed by a thundering herd of Bangladeshi’s who rushed to it and grabbed a ticket.  Reaching the front of the queue I asked “Where can I change some foreign currency?” and was informed “Upstairs… Take a ticket!”  The ticket machine has a range of options for different departments.  After going through the options I eventually selected ‘Teller’.  On walking upstairs I found all my new Bangladeshi friends occupying the seats.  They’ve obviously been here before and know the drill!  The bank staff have the mentality that your need them… they don’t need you!  It also became obvious that it didn’t matter what department you selected on the ticket machine downstairs you were back in one big queue.  Forty minutes later my number appears on the screen for Teller 6.  As I head to the counter a Bangladeshi jumped in ahead of me.  The Teller didn’t bother to check his ticket number and he got served before me.  Oh well….. Have to get used to this environment.  I then told the Teller I wanted to change UK pounds for Rials.  He asked me “Do you have an account with us?”  “No!” I reply. “You can’t change money with us unless you have an account!” he tells me.  I can’t open a bank account in Saudi Arabia whilst I’m in the country on a six month Business Visa.  I don’t want to take any foreign money out of their country….. I WANT TO GIVE THEM SOME!  Bugger it……  Off I go leaving the Bangladeshi’s jockeying for a gap in the queue.

Back in the bank foyer I try my UK debit card in the ATM.  Great; it’s recognised, and I can withdraw a minimum amount of SAR500 (approximately £80).  So their banking system won’t accept foreign currency but it will give me local currency using a foreign card.  It might be a good plan to have my entire salary banked into the UK account and draw what I need locally using the UK card.

With the money burning a hole in my pocket I went back to the car and tested my nerves by having the driver take me to a nearby shopping mall where I wanted to purchase a towel. 

Alleyways are single lane.  Most suburban roads are dual carriageway with larger roads (like the one outside the hotel) being three lanes each way.  The major roads can be 4-6 lanes, except at traffic lights where they become 8-10 as drivers squeeze together under starters orders.  If you can’t get pole position then sound your horn to encourage the others!  There are marked lanes… but who uses them!  At least the road signs are in english and arabic.

The driver took me to ‘Riyadh Avenue Mall’ and it actually turns out to be very nice.  There’s a department store on the second floor where I wander around looking for towels.  After find the racks of towels I discover that underneath those white Thobe’s and black Abyaha’s Saudi’s are obviously very small and skinny.  I’d need two of these towels to fit around my waist. Worked it out…. The larger towels are at floor level.  I want a brown coloured towel so the dirty isn’t that obvious.  In the end I had to settle for black.  49 rials, about £9.  I’m then sent to the far checkout counter where two pairs of eyes behind black sheets scan my towel and take my money before giving me the towel back in a large plastic bag. Women working and interfacing with men!  This is a progressive store! 

Back downstairs there is a large supermarket.  Seizing the opportunity I slipped in and purchased a box of tissues (actually they came as a pack of 3 boxes).  They will be used to blow my nose and, in an emergency, clean the other end.  I thought some bananas and oranges might help my diet.  There were none of those juicy Jaffa oranges from Israel in stock (wonder why) so I settled for Valencia’s.  The price of apples looked prohibitive.  Things might change next month after some money gets deposited in our account.

Riyadh Avenue isn’t the largest mall in the city. We passed another huge mall later on.

Love the sheltered car parking….. Just like Oz!

Another familiar store……