The Edge of the World

As I’d mentioned in my last blog, it’s only ever Mickey that gets her own room. Now that there was an uneven number of females on the tour, I figured it was time to take matters into my own hands and even the playing field…

So I wrote to Rosanna.

This is exactly what I wrote…

“Hey lovely… I thought I’d quickly ask about upgrades. Now that we are an uneven number of girls, are we in a rotation to get our own room occasionally? I think there will be surely be one each time… right?”

Simple. Kind. Inquisitive.

She responded with, “Yes, things have changed around a little. I will come explain tomorrow.”

Lovely.

I replied with… “Cool… kinda exciting to look forward to our own room sometimes!”

Keep that conversation in mind… as it’ll come up again soon. Me and my foreshadowing…

I decided I wanted to sign up to do a day tour, from Riyadh, to the Edge of the World.

The Edge of the World is the name of the 1.131m cliff that is approximately 100km outside of Riyadh, at the end of the Tuwaik Mountain range.

Riyadh hadn’t been as alluring to me as I thought it might be. The thought of walking the city’s streets, visiting another National Museum, another fort and another souq … all felt repetitive. So far… Saudi Arabia wasn’t exceeding my expectations.

I wanted something different than high-rise buildings.

I needed something beautiful.

I needed to be in nature.

I needed to move around… desperately.

I needed OFF the truck…

After endless hours of sitting in the truck, feeling stagnant and lifeless, I wanted to walk... The long drives had taken their toll… both mentally and physically. My confidence was plummeting… and I wasn’t feeling fabulous about myself. I was struggling with everything that came along with this tour.

When I heard about the Edge of the World excursion, it seemed like the perfect escape for a day. As we were all together sitting in the bus at the time, I mentioned it to Sue and Warren… to see if they’d be interested in joining me. Asking felt extremely risky. A

part of me wanted to be social, to include others and to make an attempt at some kind of friendship.  But a bigger part of me desperately needed space from everyone… even just for a few hours.

Sue and Warren debated the tour options… different offerings, prices, times, durations and reviews. We briefly considered renting a car to go on our own, but that plan got quickly tossed aside when we read phrases like “difficult to find,” “tricky terrain,” “4WD mandatory,” “steep slopes,” and “not recommended for unconfident drivers.” Sure… I knew I could do it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The expectation was that I would drive, but the idea of navigating those conditions and potentially facing car trouble in the middle of nowhere… in the middle of Saudi Arabia… wasn’t too appealing.

I opted out.

When it was decided that we  wouldn’t be renting a vehicle, Warren decided he wasn’t interested anymore, leaving just Sue and I.  Although we’d both done our fair share of research into each tour offering, the one we were most interested in had a review of “Worst Experience Ever.”

Intriguing…

For a very brief moment, I considered sharing the Edge of the World plan in the group chat to see if others wanted to join, but I quickly decided against that.  I did mention it to Vic and Tania, and they were keen to come along, but missed the booking window, so they were out of luck.

Just like that, it was settled on and paid… I was booked on an adventure to the Edge of the World… with Sue. I was hesitant about venturing out with Sue again… after the Qatar food tour fiasco… but I figured I’d give her a second chance. Besides… some company… however unpredictable and uncouth she might be… could possibly be fun.

Maybe…

Despite the mixed reviews, I was excited for the day. There was something exhilarating about diving into a potential “worst experience ever” scenario. Perhaps not so much with Sue… but nonetheless, I was on my way.

Don’t they say that it’s the unpredictability that fuels the adventure?

Honestly… “worst experience ever” seemed to pair perfectly with this whole tour. Why not embrace the chaos? Sometimes, you just have to throw caution to the wind.

The meeting point was a 25-minute drive away, so we opted for an Uber. It was far easier than tackling public transportation with a tight deadline. Since I had already pre-paid for the tour, Sue offered to cover the Uber fare. The only issue? She was brand new to the world of Uber… and every single little detail sent her into a spiral of unnecessary panic. From how long the driver would take, to where they were, to figuring out the exact pick-up spot, it all triggered this frantic, impatient anxiety that was entirely unwarranted.

A few times, I simply stepped back and let her be crabby… and have her multiple mini breakdowns. I felt like I was with fussy Persnickety. I could already tell… this was going to be a very long day.

Sue likes to think of herself as a laid-back, “go with the flow” traveler, but that is not quite the reality. She gets harsh, huffy and very ill-tempered when things don’t go as she thinks they should.

In my defense, I did warn her about traveling with me. Things often go awry when I’m involved… especially when it comes to travel. “You’ve got to be ready for anything,” I told her.

She laughed.

Famous last laugh.

You’ll see.

One thing I’ve realized about myself while traveling… when someone else gets tightly wound about a situation beyond our control, I retreat into a state of almost unfounded calmness. I go to the extreme of acting like I don’t care and nothing bothers me. The last thing I want is to get swept up in their panic.

Anyway… fast-forward to meeting our tour group. Sue was already stressed right out about the time and location, so I was relieved when someone waved us over. They checked us in, handed us wristbands, and hilariously mispronounced Sue’s name as “Suuuu-weeeee.” I thought it was hilarious; she clearly did not. She was too tightly wound to appreciate any humour.

In fact… she went as far as to berate me for writing “Sue” as opposed to “Susan.”

Like I would know that.

Or it would matter.

We were pointed towards a 4WD with a couple from Poland and a young Saudi woman. Naturally, we assumed she was one of the guides, but it turned out she was just another participant wanting to escape the city for a day in nature. We all chatted and got to know each other, barely noticing our driver’s silence. Then it hit me… he wasn’t engaging with us at all!

I asked him if he was our guide.

No response.

I asked again.

Nothing.

Cue Sue’s mental alarm bells. The “worst experience ever” reviews had specifically mentioned a rude guide who didn’t speak any English or interact with the group at all… and here we were.

If that wasn’t enough, an incessant ding-ding-ding-ding-ding sound started going off, like a seatbelt alarm that wouldn’t shut off. None of us could figure out where it was coming from… and the worst thing about it all was that the driver seemed completely oblivious and indifferent. Finally, he was forced to pull over on the side of the highway… and just like that, the vehicle broke down.

Broken down.

Right on the side of the busy highway.

It was insane.

And a little bit frightening…

With no much else to do, I decided to document the moment, thinking our misfortune might make for a funny travel video. Bad idea. I thought I was filming the arrival of a tow truck driver, but it turned out to be the police… who were not thrilled about being recorded.

Oops.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

The car wasn’t going anywhere… and neither were we. Apparently, there was no water… or too much water?  I didn’t fully understand what anyone was talking about and the driver didn’t bother explaining anything. We had no idea how long we’d be stuck.

Sue was clearly not happy. She climbed up the side slope… her arms crossed in a huff… and her face a picture of pure displeasure.

This was definitely going to be a very, very long day.

Thankfully, the tour company owner arrived quickly with a replacement vehicle… and a new driver.  This one was a cheerful Saudi man who, despite his limited English, at least made an effort to connect with us.

Finally, we were back on track… but wow… what a great start.

We drove about an hour and a half outside the city, stopping first at a small viewpoint, and then at a small fenced area, caging a family of impalas. I stayed by the truck for that one. I don’t like seeing animals in captivity…

Once we hit the desert, the adventure really began. The trails weren’t too challenging but there were moments of unclear paths and a few steep sections. Even though I probably could’ve managed, I was relieved we’d opted for a guide.

Finally, we arrived at the Edge of the World. The truck came to a stop at the edge of the cliff and we were free to explore… until the sun went down. I was relieved to discover there were opportunities to hike around and climb up the cliffs after all. The driver had made it sound like hiking wasn’t an option, which nearly sent Sue through the roof. Even though I was eager to stretch my legs, I knew that if she didn’t get the chance… I wouldn’t stop hearing about it.

The scenery was absolutely breathtaking. It really did feel like the edge of the world… reminding me of the 1980s movie “The Gods Must Be Crazy,” where the guy walks forever to return the Coca Cola bottle to the gods… and tosses it off the end of the earth.

Does anyone remember that movie?

The views were stunning as the sun went down over this endless range of rugged cliffs and hazy dusk sky. I just couldn’t get enough of it. Simply glorious. Highly recommended… next time you’re in Saudi.

I wore one of my new dresses and my Birkenstocks, a decision I regretted as soon as I took my first step. Hiking around steep, rocky cliffs in sandals was not my brightest idea. I eventually swapped them for my Keens, which offered a bit more support.

I made do.

The Edge of the World was, without a doubt, the highlight of my time in Saudi Arabia so far. Being out of the city and away from the bus crew was a breath of fresh air. Even though I’d booked this trip through Viator, I half-expected to see some familiar faces. Funny enough, not a single person from the group was there. Everyone else opted to stay in the city, sticking to the same old usual routine… visiting the museums, forts, and souks they explore in every destination.

On the way back, we stopped for a campfire and dinner under the stars. The meal was simple… just plain rice, overcooked pasta and a cucumber-mint salad. Definitely not gourmet, but edible.

The Saudi girl on our tour turned out to be… a bit… self-absorbed. She seemed far more invested in taking sexy selfies and posting on Snapchat than in actually enjoying the scenery or conversing with us. To be appear somewhat polite, I’m assuming, she kept asking us questions about our trip… but… she never actually listened to our answers. She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in anything we had to say, and it was obvious from the beginning. Still though… we would answer her… and then a little time would pass… and then she’d ask the exact same question again.

This went on… and on… and on...

The Polish couple was pleasant, though they opted to skip dinner and catch an earlier ride back to the city. For some reason, this set Sue off. She got all huffy and dramatic, assuming their decision would somehow force us to leave early too. Her loud, dramatic sighs and exaggerated shrugs became downright embarrassing. The couple looked puzzled… unsure why their tour preference affected her at all. I just wanted to scream, “Shut up!”

… but I didn’t…

Sure enough… of course… we stayed for dinner as planned. What the Polish couple chose to do had absolutely zero impact on our evening.

Sue has a knack for turning molehills into mountains. Her inability to ‘read the room’ mixed with her flair for unnecessary drama can make it humiliating to be around her. Kinda reminds me of her bestie’s behaviour sometimes… dear, sweet Persnickety.

I think I need a couple of days away from Sue.

As we drove along, Sue pointed out a Tim Horton’s to me. I laughed and casually remarked, “Ya… they’re everywhere.” Obviously, I meant it metaphorically… not that Tim Horton’s literally occupies every square inch of the Saudi Arabia.

Sue took me literally.

“I disagree,” she said, defiantly.

Ok, sure… technically they aren’t everywhere, but in the Middle East, they’re fairly common to see. To try and brush her off… and keep the conversation light… and move past this buffoonery, I stupidly added, “Well… they’re everywhere in Canada.”

Big mistake.

“I disagree, again,” she announced with this dramatic indignation. Then came the clincher… She claims to be “part Canadian” (having been conceived there)… and insisted she knew for a fact that Tim Horton’s wasn’t “everywhere” in Canada.

OMG… was I really having this conversation? I think she struggles to grasp metaphorical language. No… I don’t “think”… I “know.”

I sat there, silently fuming at the absurdity. This “part Canadian” has never heard of poutine… or a Caesar… or a Bay Blanket…

Honestly… she’s… odd.

Everyone is.

I think I’ve landed myself in a traveling circus.

I need a break.

From Sue.

From everyone.

From ALL of it.

I do have to add in something quite humorous though…

While lounging in bed that evening, I decided to unwind by watching an episode of a Netflix series I had recently downloaded. To avoid disturbing anyone, I popped in my earbuds. However, they weren’t working properly. The sound was muffled, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t fix it. Frustrated, I cranked the volume up to the max and made a mental note to buy new earbuds as soon as I had the chance.

So there I was… completely absorbed in my silly show… probably about fifteen minutes deep… when Sue interrupted me.

“Do you mind turning it down?” she asked politely, though her tone was firm.

It was then I realized that my Bluetooth wasn’t even turned on! I was absolutely mortified. I had been watching my show… on full blast… just assuming the muffled, distant sound was through my earbuds.

I laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

I’m an idiot.

The next day, I agreed to go to an art gallery with Karen.

I know.

I know.

My options are diminishing…

I was honestly surprised she was leaving the hotel at all… as she almost never does. She sits on her bed and watches TV. Mickey rarely leaves the hotel either. I can’t quite understand how someone can aspire to be a tour guide but refuse to step outside their accommodation to actually see the sights.

I also couldn’t quite figure out why I agreed to go to an art gallery, especially considering, according to Creepy Mean Mirror Lady, I have “no appreciation for art.”

Truthfully, I hadn’t exactly agreed to go to the art gallery. I’d mentioned wanting to visit the traditional souk… as she had expressed interest in going there too. When she mentioned she wanted to stop by the art gallery before heading to the souk, I naturally assumed they were close to each other and decided to tag along.

Wrong.

They were in completely opposite directions.

That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was attempting to buy a bus ticket. Somewhere in my increasingly frustrated button-mashing, I managed to purchase a three-day city pass for 30SAR… instead of a single ride for 4SAR.

Now I was really pissed.

There I was, standing on the side of the road with Karen (one of my least favourite people), waiting for a bus (my least favorite form of transportation) headed in the opposite direction of where I originally wanted to go. And to top it all off, I’d just blown a chunk of money on a pass I didn’t need.

Off to the art gallery we went. I almost decided to just stay on the bus and ride it until I was sure I felt I’d had my money’s worth.

Karen has a bad hip, which means she walks really fast because, according to her, it helps. I don’t get it… but there I was… practically jogging along behind, desperately trying to keep up. I felt like a peon, scurrying behind Santa’s elf. Yep… that’s right… once again, she was rockin’ her full red velour housecoat ensemble. In public! I’m not even kidding… it’s Wiggle meets Sgt. Pepper meets Santa… and I have no idea how she doesn’t see this.

The art gallery itself was good. Small, but interesting. I enjoyed it. Because of its size, we only spent about 15 minutes there before hopping back on the bus to head all the way back across Riyadh… to the souk.

The souk was decent. A lot of it was the same as most of the others ones I’d seen, though slightly more expensive. It was filled with narrow alleyways lined with traditional shops selling pillows, rugs, and various clothing items. A lot of it wasn’t open… which by now, is no great shock. After making our way through the maze, we stumbled upon a more flea market-style area, where vendors had laid out old treasures for sale. There were teapots, trinkets, vintage cassettes and vinyl records, books, antique jewelry, and much more.

Spending an entire day with Karen felt… unsettling. She’s so unpredictable… it’s difficult to know what version you’re going to be faced with from one moment to another. She can be joyful & jolly… or downright miserable… or frightening… or steeped in sorrow.

It’s a crap shoot.

Like walking on eggshells.

I felt like I couldn’t relax or be myself because I never knew how she might react. And the whole time, I couldn’t shake the thought of how awful she’d been in the past.

She started complaining about how Persnickety Marilyn had been moaning over her breakfast boiled eggs when she was last on cook crew. I’m pretty sure her grumbling had the opposite effect to the one she’d intended.  All I could picture was her scrunched up, infuriated face when we’d run out of porridge… and all I could hear was “This meal’s going in the bin!”…

Karma’s a bitch, “Karen.”