Ringing in the New Year, Ex Pat Style

Well, as I discussed last time, celebrating Christmas here in Saudi Arabia requires many adaptations and innovations, and many ex pats prove to be very creative and determined in this respect. New Year's Eve, another essential holiday for Westerners, also poses many challenges.

Firstly, Saudi Arabia follows the hijra (Islamic) calendar, which is about 11 days shorter than the Western calendar. Thus, the "new year" for them happens several days before Christmas--although they view this as a relatively minor date. Thus, most Westerners can expect to work on New Year's, unless the date falls on the Saudi weekend of Thursday and Friday.

Now, many people enjoy spending New Year's Eve in the quiet company of their family, playing games or watching movies, counting down till midnight. However, to many others, the idea of New Year's is irrevocably tied to the idea of parties and, of course, alcohol.

Unfortunately for these convivial souls, alcohol is outlawed in the Kingdom. Still, true to the typical ex-pat spirit, many have formed a sort of underground "moonshine" network. Swapping recipes for wine, rum, and whiskey, and brewing their precious liquids in bathtubs and closets, many Westerners here in Jeddah are well-stocked not only on New Year's, but year-round.

Nicknamed "sid" (short for siddiqi, "my friend"), this homemade alcohol is abundant at some expat functions, transported in under abayas, or in purses and briefcases. Recently, a certain woman member of this underground circle invented a specialized canvas bag for transporting sid. It is designed with two pockets sewn on opposite sides of the bag, shaped perfectly for the glass juice bottles into which sid is typically poured. I chuckled when a friend of mine told me about these bags, and we exchanged one of our "only in this country" looks.

As for parties, well, there a few that ex-pats can choose from, usually hosted at several different Western compounds. Partiers have to sign up ahead of time, show ID at the gate, and be 'sponsored' by an actual resident of the compound. Women will hide their sequined, skimpy New Years attire under their shapeless black abayas, concealing sid in one of the locations previously discussed.

It is impossible to say how much the compound security personnel know/suspect about these parties. Perhaps we are as good at keeping up appearances as we like to think; perhaps it would simply be too much of a headache to try and REALLY crack down on these parties. Regardless, most parties go off without a hitch. I've always said that some of the hardest partiers I know of are the men and women here, who, after prolonged periods of protocol and gender segregation, find themselves momentarily beyond the reach of sharia law and rigid societal expectations. That feeling of fleeting liberation, combined with the magical powers of sid, certainly provide the basis for a pretty "wild" party.

Makeshift Christmases

In the event that you find yourself in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia over the holidays, don’t dismay. Find yourself some savvy ex-patriots who know the ropes, and they’ll show how we do Christmas and New Year’s here in the desert.

Christmas is tricky, because Saudi Arabia is a strictly Muslim nation where all other religions are outlawed. However, there are still plenty of determined Westerners who retain their holiday spirit, and there are plenty of devout Muslims willing to accommodate them. I still remember several Christmases ago when I accompanied my mother to the souk to scavenge for Christmas décor.

We wandered the dusty sidewalks, clad in our black abayas, until we found a promising “5-10-20” shop—that is, a five, ten, and twenty riyal store, the Jeddah equivalent of the Dollar Tree. The cramped shop smelled of stale air and cheap plastic, and the miniscule checkout “counter” was manned by a dark skinned man holding Muslim prayer beads.

We scanned the shelves, then turned to him and asked, “Christmas?” He nodded eagerly, hopping up and leading us up a rusty staircase and to the narrow room upstairs. This dimly lit room was windowless, and certainly had the air of an underground operation.

Against one wall leaned about half a dozen boxes of miniature plastic Christmas trees! Delighted, I snatched one up quickly, glancing gleefully at my mother, who wore a look of pure triumph. What a thrill! Our Christmas miracle was complete when we noticed several boxes of “Twenkle lights” on the shelf beside us. Jackpot!! We grabbed the flimsy cartons, amazed at our success. Giggling, we quickly paid for the plastic treasures, bagging them carefully and slipping stealthily out the door.

Some of our compatriots weren’t so lucky—several had to bring lights back from the States, and string them around some dry brush or a houseplant (I saw at least half a dozen such makeshift-Christmas trees each year). Christmas music and movies had to be brought from the States or bought as pirated copies from the peddlers at the souk.

Most of the shopping centers in Jeddah are either extremely expensive conglomerates of Guess, DKNY, and the like (designed mostly for wealthy Saudi royals) or dilapidated one-room shops full of two-dollar jeans. This makes for an extremely frustrating holiday shopping process, and, in the event you find a decent gift (and most people simply shop months ahead when they visit the States) you can forget about finding wrapping paper!

As for Christmas dinner, turkeys are hard to come by, and cranberry sauce is also a rare find—don’t ask me why. However, I have seen ex-pats deal with these issues in many ways. Firstly, we are all obligated to alert one another if we find one of these precious holiday staples—for example, one year a family friend called us in great excitement, announcing that he had found several turkeys for sale at a certain supermarket. “Hurry, though!! There were only a few left!”

Many ex-pats bring cans of cranberries or boxes of stuffing mix with them from the States/UK/wherever, or ask their friends to bring them back. Others invent new holiday traditions, like having Italian food or traditional Arabic shawarmas for Christmas dinner. All in all, Christmas in Jeddah demands a lot of creative thinking and compromise, but I can assure you, first hand, that most families do not forgo their share of merriment. For some, it’s the time spent with loved ones that makes their hearts light, for others, it’s the homemade alcohol, brewed in secret and shared among the ex-pat community as a prized commodity. But more about that next time.