Taif is famous for its flowers and its fruits. It was just the right time for cooking the rose petals when I was there. They have a special type of rose bush for this in Taif, not the big type of rose we are used to in Europe, but a small, pink, intensely fragrant type. Ten thousand flowers are needed for one ounce of rose oil.
Ann's husband, Abdulah, is from a Bedouin tribe from this area. His family were farmers, and he very kindly showed me a large room where his relatives boiled the rose petals in a gigantic, tightly covered pot, the cone-shaped cover of which had a hole at the top with a pipe attached to it sideways. The steam from the boiling rose petals escaped through the hole and followed the pipe into a large tank of cold water. The closed pipe ran right through the middle of the water tank. This quick change in temperature within the pipe caused condensation and at the end of the pipe a gigantic glass bottle was set up which caught the dripping of the "rose water".
At the end of a very long day, the bottle was full and the one millimetre of rose oil that sat at the top of the water in the tiny mouth of the large bottle was skimmed off and sold for about 1000 to 1500 SR for a tiny vial about an inch and a half tall.
Ann's family took me for a picnic in their tribal land. We found a shady tree in an oasis, and were surrounded by this positively nativity-like scenery.
We were out all day, and in Jeddah this would have been quite unpleasant at this time of the year. In Taif, however, it was fresh and breezy, and I can see why it is the "summer capital" of KSA.
Abdullah was so very hospitable and kind. I was treated with more food and drink than even at my grandmother's home, and that says a lot. The Arabic coffee cooked on coals was delicious; and their son Beder did a great job on organising everything from transport across huge rocks to the firewood.
Their son Beder is 22, and I have never before seen a young man of his age show so much respect to his parents as Beder did. Abdullah was joking with us all the time; somehow, that was not the image of a spartan Bedouin men that I had in my mind. We had talked about life and everything, and it was one of the most memorable social days I have had in a long while.
Ann is an amazing, wonderful lady, and her family is one of the warmest ones I have ever met. Her story deserves a book -- she had moved here from the States, and after a fascinating story which I am not sure I should tell on the Web, she has been married for almost thirty years to the kindest and nicest Saudi man one can imagine. They didn't even speak the same language to begin with, and they managed to raise twelve successful children together! To me, Ann is a proof of the power of cultural tolerance.
In the mountains there were still remains of the recent rains; the small streams were still alive, and the trees still had that healthy fresh smell. I was told stories about how much the landscape changes when the heavy rains fall; in one day, there is an explosion of colours, with all the millions of flower and grass seeds that have been hibernating in their hard husks trying to make the most of water and life while there are still to be had.
The evening humidity had just started accumulating in the valleys. It was so strange talking to people about the weather here. I am used to thinking about a sunny day as a beautiful day; but here they talk about a rainy as being great. I have to say, though, I never got tired of the sunny days.
Baboons have taken over parts of the escarpment.
Taif is visible from the top of the mountain.
Sunset, as I am being driven home, on the way down the Al Hada escarpment. This looks idyllic, but there was trouble to come before the nigth fell.
Since women can't drive here, I had to rent a driver from the Sheraton Hotel to get to Taif for the day, but even this semi-legal arrangement caused some problems on the way home. There are many checkpoints along the way, and the police does not like the idea of a single woman with a non-mahram man in a car, even if she is paying him to drive her. Especially one problematic checkpoint, where I started wondering whether I would have to spend the night in jail, suddenly brought me back to the strict rules of world around me. Being up there in the mountains with Ann and her family, with abayas off and enjoying the most relaxing picnic in the world, I had completely forgotten about the rest of the society here in KSA. That is, however, typical of my whole stay here. The society is strict, but on a personal level, people here were amazingly nice.
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Silvija Seres, 25 April 2002