By j3sdomine1982 marked the start of an unprecedented chapter in our lives, when my father's employment with Bell Canada transported our family to the sandy expanse of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. As a sixth grader, this move stirred a whirlpool of emotions within me — the exhilaration of an impending adventure, the trepidation of leaving behind a familiar world.
As our plane touched down on Arabian soil, my new life unfolded. We were ushered into a massive walled compound, our Canadian oasis amidst the arid surroundings . It was a peculiar existence confined to this secure square mile – a hodgepodge of hockey matches on small patches of grass, poolside escapades, and engaging with the vast Canadian community. Despite the strangeness of this new everyday life, what truly marked the shift in my existence was the schooling. Every day, we embarked on a 30-minute journey on Greyhound buses to an American school; a testament to the Canadian imprint on Saudi Arabia, we made up one of the largest resident groups. But our adventures were not only limited to the confines of the compound and the school. On occasion, chaperoned by our parents (remember, only men could drive), we dipped our toes into the greater expanse of Riyadh.
One of my most vivid memories is of wandering the bustling souks. These marketplace labyrinth held the promise of exotic trinkets sold by weight, not craftsmanship . Communicating was a challenge, as English was rarely spoken, yet the universal language of commerce bridged the gap. Apart from frequent souk visits, we were invited into the home of a wealthy Saudi family, a colleague of my father's. I remember being enveloped in the warmth of their hospitality , a peek into the lavish lifestyle of Saudi Arabia's upper echelon.
But it wasn't all life within the compound or trips to town. There was a silver lining to living in what was considered a hardship posting: a luxurious vacation every 4-6 months, courtesy of Bell Canada. These trips carried us away from the searing heat of Saudi Arabia to the far-flung corners of the globe.
I reminisce about our trip to Greece, exploring the ruins of the Parthenon with a heart full of awe and a head brimming with Greek mythology. Or the thrilling safari in Kenya, the magnificence of wild animals etched into memory and a peculiar memory of a bath-temperature pool in Mombasa. It was a kaleidoscope of experiences , something my middle-class Canadian upbringing could never have afforded. In essence, Riyadh was more than an Arabian adventure. It was a launchpad to global childhood experiences , the lessons from which I carry within me even today.