The Souk

Once again it is time to visit the local Turkey Barber. This time Mustaffa was working beside his brother Ali who is the local dentist. In the bottom left of the following photo you can see Mustaffa giving Nigel (ahead of me in the queue) his turkey haircut. Ali is beside him doing a tooth extraction in his newly purchased swivel recliner chair. Having looked at all the new equipment I have decided to defer my haircut and will definitely waiting for my annual leave before arranging my dental appointment.

OK. The photo was taken in old Riyadh near to souk around 1920.

The Souk (bazaar, covered market place) was a disappointment. I had been hoping for something interesting. Perhaps I’ve been spoilt by the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul or the Khan el-Khalili in Cairo. The Riyadh Souk looked very similar to the Coventry market or the ground floor of the Stoke on Trent covered market. Boring walls with a tin roof and a rabbit warren of small stalls selling tacky goods.

I wandered down Wristwatch Row (how many damned watches do you need) into Abaya Alley where numerous stall were displaying Abaya’s (black….my favourite colour). There was an area set aside selling bad disgusting revolting truly revolting looking coloured trashy dresses in a riot of colours. You wouldn’t bury a lady in one of them. I will admit to thinking of purchasing one for my aunt… Because she is that sort of person! One stall holder was badgering me to buy some cheap (imitation?) French perfume.  I had to explain we already have paint stripper on board! Having jostled my way through the crowd I reach the gold market where the black magpies were ogling all the glittering objects in the glass topped display cabinets. One stall holder spotted the westerner and wanted me to come into his shop to buy something for my ‘wife’. I can just imagine her pulling on a mooring line wearing her heavy gold necklace. It would go well with the faded green sweat top and fleecy track pants. Somehow I don’t think the ‘Sea Search’ magnet would recover it from the canal bed.

On the far side of the gold souk was the carpet area where it was possible to purchase a genuine hand knotted Persian carpet made on a loom in Belgium. I know a little about hand-made carpets after doing my research and being ripped-off over a carpet I bought in Istanbul 20 years ago. (a small amount of research can be expensive!) I suppose purchasing a carpet is a possibility, but it would have to be small to fit into my suitcase. Perhaps a prayer mat. I could roll it out in front of my lovely wife’s chair and abase myself twice daily.

Adjacent to carpet land was macho street. It was a sea of fella’s carrying rifles. After many years living in countries where firearms are tightly controlled it was a surprise to find them on display and so easy to purchase. Initially I thought they were air rifles, but a surreptitious glance at the muzzle confirmed they were the “Real McCoy”. Many of the stalls were selling Farwa’s. This is a heavy coat with sleeves and is traditionally lined with sheepskin making it very warm on a cold winter night in the desert. Apparently the Bedouin use their Farwa as a sleeping bag. However all the Farwa’s I saw were lined with imitation fur. Beside the gun shops were other businesses selling accessories. I could have bought a couple of cross strap ammunition bandoliers and an ammunition belt all made from genuine vinyl and a djambiya (curved dagger). With my rifle, bandoliers, dagger, Farwa, Gutra and Igal I could pretend I was Lawrence of Arabia heading off into the desert to hunt the last of the very frightened local goats. However on reflection I recall Lawrence was caught and raped by a very large, smelly, hairy and ugly Turk. Maybe I’ll just keep the money and return to the safety of my villa!

On the way back to the bus I noticed an area selling genuine Saudi handicrafts and souvenirs. Most of it looked like tacky junk to me but then you probably need a Saudi souvenir. After looking at the genuine camel bone vase holder I turned it over to read “Make in Pakistan” on the base. Apparently Saudi Arabia doesn’t make much.
This is a photo of the heart of Riyadh after WW1.

I think I saw Indiana Jones.