Jonathan Worsley, chairman and CEO of The Bench, which organizes hotel industry events such as the Arabian Hospitality Investment Conference and Africa Hospitality Investment Forum, has asked me to write up what I am paraphrasing below to perhaps present it to the ministry of tourism.
The country is Saudi Arabia, the people are Saudis and the subject is hospitality.
In Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to attend Worsley’s Future Hospitality Summit, the subject of hospitality was mentioned by panelist after panelist, both Saudi and international hoteliers present.
Sitting in an air-conditioned ballroom, these utterances remain utterances and said too many times even a little hollow, but I experienced it on my first visit to Saudi Arabia in glorious, genuine profusion.
Perhaps being adventurous, I had asked an online forum of birdwatchers where I might go close to Riyadh to find birds, one of my overriding passions.
One birder replied I should head to a spot called Al-Ha’ir, some 30 miles southwest of capital Riyadh.
I took an Uber, the driver telling me he had never been to this area of desert-scrub and lakes of recycled, treated sewage water.
Right: Namaqua dove, a species difficult to see, at Al-Ha'ir Lakes & Parks. (Terence Baker)
The birding was good, the temperature was 41 degrees Celsius, 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit. I had a hat, sunscreen and three bottles of water.
After four or five hours of birding, I sat under the shade of a palm tree to consider what had been a distant voice in my head. How, with no phone signal, was I to get back to my central Riyadh hotel? Al-Ha’ir Park & Lakes is building something for visitors, but currently it cannot be seen what that will be, apart from a small mosque.
In the time-honored method, I stuck my thumb out and hitched a lift.
A Saudi named Adi drove me into the small town of Al-Ha’ir, four miles down the road.
I thanked him and set off to look for a place to eat, likely a rudimentary chicken-and-rice diner of which I have eaten at many in the United Arab Emirates.
Having only walked one or two blocks, a truck pulled up beside me, the window opened and 20-year-old Abdullah asked me if I needed assistance.
Within a blur of 10 minutes, he had driven me to such a food stop, purchased a large container of food, and we were eating with our hands in conversation with his father and three younger siblings.
Abdullah was eager for me to meet his closest friend, Saad, so off we went there, a few blocks around the corner, and outside Saad’s home stood the patriarch of Saad's family, Ibrahim, who, hand on heart, welcomed me into the house where sons, friends and an uncle fell over themselves to pour me and offer Saudi coffee with cardamom, sweet tea and succulent dates.
Ibrahim — a professor who spoke English to a good level — was eager for me to see the sites of the town, including the former town, now abandoned at its edge, where he said his father and grandfather had been born, everyone part of the Alsobaie tribe, also written as Subay’ or Sbei’, so he told me.
He, another son and I hopped into his SUV, and off we went for a personal tour of history, architecture and landscape.
When we returned, I was introduced to his new-born granddaughter.
It was Ibrahim’s first time meeting her, too, due to the custom of mother and child isolating themselves for 40 days following a birth, or so I think I understood correctly.
“I would be honored for you to kiss my granddaughter on her forehead,” Ibrahim said.
It was I who felt honored.
Everyone chatted about our families, our cultures, our hopes and my impressions of Saudi Arabia and Saudis, which were at that moment through the roof, and Ibrahim said when I was ready to leave, one of his sons would drive me back to Riyadh.
At one point, I heard the “Adhan,” the Muslim call to prayer, which has always to me been one of my favorite sounds.
Ten minutes later, everyone walked off to pray, leaving me, an utter stranger, sitting alone in the house.
Twenty minutes after that, everyone returned and conversation, coffee and dates were resumed and consumed.
As I left, after thanking everyone profusely, hand on heart, I was presented with an old-fashioned coffee pot with elongated spout and copper binding and told I would be welcome at any time.
I have been fortunate to have traveled very widely in every continent save for Antarctica.
I have been subject to many kindnesses, but not to this level.
Someone at the conference mentioned when a Saudi Arabian child reaches the age of eight, he or she is given the responsibility of being the host when anyone visits the family home.
That speaks volumes for how Saudis grow up and view their countryfolk — and everyone else on the planet.
My wife says I might travel with my eyes a little too fully open, but one thing I have learned after now visiting 105 countries is that 99.99% of people are good, and it behooves all of us to do what we can to be that way, too.
As the country prepares for transformation around its Vision2030 program, such warmth, generosity and kindness hold Saudi Arabia in very good stead.
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