Boqueria Market, Barcelona

One of the most colourful produce markets I have ever been to. It felt like being in the middle of a painting. All we tried from here was a peach. If you look closely at the third or fourth photo, you'll see the type I mean. They looked so good, we bought one, stood in the corner and shared it. When I look at the photos though, I wonder how we didn't get more carried away.

Help - The Beginning

I can't believe I haven't written for so long. I certainly do have things to write about. I went back into my old posts and saw some drafts, things I had written but had never gotten around to editing or publishing. I realised that to write about what I would like to fill you in on next, this old post would have to be published, just to give you some background. I had to laugh when I read this again, there was a time when I was so clueless. Hard to imagine, two years on and I see myself as a seasoned professional. It is long but hopefully entertaining and an eye opener in a city where hired help is a part of daily life. The saga takes place within the compound I live in in Riyadh, a guarded community where expats can imitate life at home as far as that is possible. This was written in about February last year, the beginning of our posting here, we are now already nearing the end.

It all started when Husband informed me that a housekeeper is nothing to raise an eyebrow at here. There are many women making a living this way in Saudi Arabia and many more people making use of their services. You can just imagine how excited I was. Except for stuff to do with the kitchen, I HATE cleaning. I thought everybody did, but not so, there are some women, some good friends of mine even, who love it. They find it therapeutic and rewarding. I on the other hand turn into a resentful beast when I have to clean. There have been times when after a hard day scrubbing, dusting and tidying, I've sat down in front of the computer to write Husband a strongly worded email about his domestic habits.

I am clearly a danger to myself and to others when I have to clean and therefore shouldn't be doing it at all. What I didn't realise is that finding good help is not easy and I am fast discovering that I am almost as bad at finding someone, as I am at the actual cleaning.

It all started with Daisy. Daisy was recommended to us by her cousin and was supposed to come over and take a look at the house to see if she could help us out with a bit of cleaning. The arranged day came and the doorbell did not ring. We arranged a second appointment. Two hours later than scheduled, I answered the door and there was a lady who introduced herself as Sally. Sally also worked at the DVD store but seemed somehow to have the time to help me out around the house for a few hours a week. Naturally, I asked her why her name wasn't Daisy but she didn't seem to know what I was talking about and since someone finally showed up, be it Sally or Daisy or Bill I was happy to share the chores. Sally, seemed nice. Her English was good, she looked the house over and offered to start in a few days. She also told me she was married to the guy who fixes the air-conditioning, so if I had problems I could just call her. Things were looking up.

Sally's first day arrived. I hovered around the door, waiting for the doorbell to ring. It didn't. In my excitement I had totally forgotten to take Sally's number so I couldn't call her to find out if she'd had some sort of mishap on the way to my place. It was around mid-afternoon when I happened to stroll past my front door and find a note in it. The note read:

'Sorry Madam, I am not feeling well today. I cannot come.'

And that was it. No future appointment or phone number. I never saw her again. I wasn't exactly going to stalk her at the DVD store, so I continued with the household alone.

One morning Husband rang me from work and told me to go and ring the doorbell of a nearby home. Colleagues were sharing there and were very happy with their housekeeper. I should just ring the doorbell and introduce myself to Mercy, he said. I rang the doorbell, no answer. I decided to try again, ringing the doorbell persistently. I circled the back and saw that the terrace had been freshly washed, I went back to ringing the doorbell, determined to meet Mercy. No such luck. Answering the door was clearly not part of her job description.

I went back home a little wearier than before, wondering how on earth I was going to find someone and then the telephone rang. It was a lady I had just met on the compound. She had a full-time house keeper, Violet, who had a cousin Ruby, who would be happy to help me out. I arranged a time to meet Ruby, a little less trusting this time that anyone would turn up at all. When the doorbell rang on the arranged day at the arranged time, it was difficult not to get just a little bit excited. I opened the door and there she was. She looked serious. We discussed money and what she would do. She was eager. Could she start now? Yes, she could. She had a few hours before her next job. Wonderful. Pretty soon, she was busying herself around the house making my attempt at house cleaning look pretty miserable.

Ruby came twice a week after that. She wasn't always on time, once she promised a morning time and sauntered in early afternoon. Her explanation? 'I'm just late Madam.' Hmmm... Ok. I accepted. It's not like I had any pressing engagements. She helped with  unpacking our shipment which had just arrived, with preparing the baby's things, she vacuumed very well and then... she asked for taxi money. If my pregnant self remembers correctly, this was on her third visit. Now, just think a minute about how fresh and new I am to all this. The request didn't sound right, but how was I to know? Perhaps transportation was part of the fee? The crazy thing was, the taxi money was more than her hourly rate. She was so bold in the way she asked I thought that maybe it was the done thing. So what did I do? I gave it to her.

It was around this time that I started venturing out more. Like I mentioned in my previous post, there were many new women to meet and I decided, with the house in good hands that I would go out and try to make a friend or two. That was fun and terribly informative. After a few questions, my uncertainty was proven correct. Not only was Ruby charging me more than others charged as an hourly rate, the taxi money was unheard of. People gasped when I mentioned what I was paying weekly.

This is probably a good time to explain that housekeepers do not cost a fortune here. That is how I tried to justify things to myself for a while but then I realised, this really isn't about the money. It is the feeling of being cheated. I was being taken advantage of. I talked to more ladies over lunch. The general consensus seemed to be to find someone new. It would be too strange, everyone agreed, to renegotiate her rate with her now. Then one of the ladies told a story about trying not to upset the housekeeper, as they might take revenge. She had recently found an expensive sweater folded ever so neatly in her wardrobe - burnt!

So, heeding advice, and not wanting to be taken for a fool anymore, I went about trying to find someone new. The new lady turned up on the same day I made the enquiry, promising to clean my house just as she cleans hers. I had made up my mind. Eventually, I made the call to Ruby. I explained myself clearly, I was finding her too expensive. She didn't argue. I thanked her for her work but told her I would need to find someone else. It was a short call but I made myself clear.

A few hours later the lady who had recommended Ruby to me rang. She sounded alarmed and wanted to know if anything had happened. What had gone wrong, why didn't I want Ruby anymore? I explained to her that she was too expensive, that I wasn't willing to pay taxi money. She asked if I would be willing to take Ruby back if I didn't have to pay for her taxi. But that was just confirmation for me that she was wrong to have asked for it in the first place.

I didn't take Ruby back, I would have felt too awkward.

It was at lunch a few days later that the phone rang and Ruby's familiar name came up on my phone. I answered without hesitation, not really sure what to expect.  Ruby was mad and this time she had a thing or two to say to me. She started off very nicely, How is Madam? She wanted to know. Was everything OK? Was I happy with her work? Did she steal anything from me? Had she done anything bad? Clearly, she was not over it.  Now, I didn't want to be having this discussion. It would have been a fruitless argument of her word against mine. I somehow ended the conversation with the clear message that she was not to call me again. There was nothing else for us to discuss. All the while though, I have to say, I was impressed with this lady's feistiness. She is definitely in the wrong line of work. Nobody wants an aggressive housekeeper, otherwise I would have hired myself.

Meanwhile, the new lady is OK. At first, because in some bizarre way, I missed Ruby, I noticed all the things that the new lady didn't do or did differently. But, now, I have become used to her. She comes on time and works hard. I do have a feeling that she broke the toilet seat, it was just the two of us at home and only her in said bathroom. Who else could it have been?  Maybe she stood on it to clean the windows? I suggested. But no. She was certain. It wasn't her. I won't worry too much about that though as long as my floors are shiny, I'm in this relationship for the long haul.

Camels in a ute

Literally. Just one of the many interesting sights you might see, driving the streets of Riyadh on the weekend.