[This is part of the series: A List of Things I Remember About Living In Saudi Arabia.]
I remember the travel.
Understand, you don’t just go to Saudi Arabia and stay for 5 or 6 years.
I mean come on, this isn’t 1940.
Part of living in Saudi Arabia was the fact that we spent the school year in Saudi Arabia, but we spent the summers at home.
We went back to the USA, and my friends went back to Scotland, or Pakistan, or Australia, or wherever they were from.
We all flew back and forth every summer.
Visas. Airplane tickets. Passports. Boarding passes. Jet lag. Where is our layover? Frankfort? Oh, Paris. I thought we were landing in Germany for some reason. It’s weird our plane stopped to refuel in Rome.
Didn’t we fly through London last time?
And: “I am so bored – I can’t believe this is an eleven hour layover!”
It is a charmed childhood if you can swing it.
