“This country has taught me two things, Michael.”

My friend finishes her cuba libre, puts the empty glass on the table, and turns back to me.

“First, how to experience truly everything and learn from it.”

Normally, if I hear these words from an expat living abroad, I can’t help but to hear a scream of doubts exploding my head. I know I need to work on this judgemental thinking, but unfortunately, my first reaction is that I imagine someone with a relatively calm daily life in the comfortable expat bubble with occasional and sweet cross-cultural petit-clashes. Empty drama without any real shit. And with shit I mean heavy-class shit that one has to go through, that redefines how one sees the world, that causes long-term inner pain, constant hesitation, self-contempt, endless doubt about the commonality of common sense, and that leaves beautiful permanent scars on our souls, souls of ordinary human beings, scars, that eventually help us to become better persons, scars, that once are healed and stabilised eat away from the boredom of flawlessness, scars, that shape up persons with character.

Pfew.

But this time, the scream of doubts is silent. The eyes of my friend have this strikingly clear, slightly sadly coloured light, that fluently tells me that during the past few years of working as a nurse in one of the best Saudi hospitals, she truly has seen and gone through a lot of shit.

I feel an urge to support the rhythm of the discussion and ask: “So what is the second thing then?”

“The second thing? Ah, you learn how to make your own wine from very limited resources.”

I smile. In a country where a bottle of good imported wine is worth a couple of hundreds of euros (if you manage to sell it) or a couple of hundred lashes on your back (if they catch you), alcohol is something that I’d describe as a complex good. It’s not impossible to find it, but usually it’s either outrageously expensive, hideously disgusting, or both.

“Really, first you decide whether you want red or white…”

“Can you make gewürztraminer as well?”

She smiles and kindly ignores my remark.

“And based on your preference you choose the color of grape juice. You can normally buy it in the supermarket. Then you just add some yeast – now you can get it even here, but I have my favorite brand I bring from Europe. It’s maybe 55 cents for a large package that lasts for liters of this delicacy.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, if you want to make it stronger, add some sugar. In any case you combine the ingredients in the proper ratio and then mix it vigorously. Mix it Michael, mix it like your life depends on it! And believe me that sometimes… sometimes it truly does, ha ha.”

I laugh with her.

The evening has just began, but the lovely humming consisting of various conversations is already firmly established and provides a gentle support for the relaxed atmosphere. I look around and see a lovely mixture of nationalities, both male and female, talking about just anything.

Nothing, literally nothing from what I see right now could happen outside of this Riyadh compound:

Smiling, beautiful girls wearing jeans, skirts, shirts, or t-shirts would be told to cover themselves up.

For talking to females, me, going to jail…

And I’m not even mentioning that I’d be flogged heavily for my 3rd glass of whisky.

I take another sip from my drink (priced at the level of one bottle of your good ol’ average Jim Beam). This alcohol is no bathtub esperanza and during an evening like this, it’s worth every dime.

I try to switch the topic to a slightly lighter one.

“So how do you actually… date people? You have introduced me to your boyfriend a while ago, but how do you actually meet and stay sane?”

Another friend joins the conversation and shares her valuable insights.

“Well it’s not impossible. For example, those two sitting at that bench, they have actually married last year. Then you have that mixed couple from Jordan and Germany sitting over there… You see, on a compound it’s not impossible. Of course you can’t walk in the city if you are not married, but here in the compounds, the life is quite close to what you would describe as normal in Europe.”

I look around at the couples and completely agree. The scenery looks like a scenery from any random cafeteria one would find in almost any European city. I turn back to my second friend and ask her.

“You have been living in this country for the past 2-3 years. I know this might sound a little bit odd, but how is it to live in Saudi as a European… girl?”

My friend laughs.

“Well, it’s not easy. I’d say it’s rather difficult. But now it’s better than we had it until recently. Mutawa, the religious police had lots of control over the public life until the last May – they were shouting at me at the mall to cover my face and it was really uncomfortable. But then the government decided that in order to become a mutawa one mustn’t have any criminal background and have at least high-school education. From what I’ve heard, the numbers were immediately decimated by 80%.”

“Yeah, I have seen them the other day in the streets – they had a fancy car and were using a megaphone to spread fancy Arabic-sounding things with lots of Allah Akbar.”

“That might have been them. Now it’s better. Before the reform they could even storm your place and check if you are not hiding something or someone. Heck, my friend was once on a date and they basically abducted her when they found out that her boyfriend is not her husband. She was thrown into the trunk of their car without any explanation, and if she hadn’t called her friend to help her (while being afraid for her life), nobody would come to the prison and bailed her out.”

“That sounds rather… unbelievable.”

“Do believe me. As I said, today they can’t even arrest you and they have to call the police for that. But in any case, if I’d be you, I definitely wouldn’t risk dating people on the streets in Riyadh.”

“Thank you for the tip. Well actually, I had this diner with a girl from tinder in a restaurant in downtown few weeks ago…”

“YOU HAVE WHAT?!”

“Well nothing serious. We just had a dinner in this nice Japanese place and then parted our ways, but it was fun to be seated in the family section with all those women and families. Actually that might have been the first time I have ever seen so many uncovered women in Saudi.”

“How did you get in?”

“Easy, I just said that I have a business dinner with my female business partner and the reservations guy hesitated only for a second. But you are right, I should be a little bit more careful.”

“You should.”

“I will. I think. Anyway – up for one more drink?”