For the second night in a row, we headed back to the ‘government-appointed’ campsite. Yes, it was the exact same place we’d camped at the night before… but still, we’d had to take down our tents and set them up all over again.
A bit of a hassle, but what do you do?
I think I’ve mentioned (a few times) how I’m not impressed that Graham has been doing back locker. For an 80 year old man to be handling all the heavy, cumbersome luggage… while a slew of younger men stand around watching… is nothing short of atrocious.
Shameful.
Disgusting.

I’ve been jumping in to help whenever I can. Usually, Mickey takes the lead by opening up the tenting equipment locker and getting everything out. On this particular evening, we had a good rhythm going—we’d formed an assembly line. Mickey would toss the gear to me… I’d then toss it to Sue… and then Sue would toss it onto the tarp for everyone to pickup. It was working extremely smoothly… and we were making good progress. Then… out of nowhere… I went to toss something in Sue’s direction and… she was gone.
What the hell?
She’d just vanished!
“Hey! What happened to our assembly line?” I shouted in her direction, seeing her walk away with a bunch of equipment.
Sue turned back, shrugged, and said, “I’ve got all my stuff now!” Then she just walked off.
Seriously?
“So you’re not going to help anymore?” I called after her, but she didn’t even bother responding.
This is exactly the kind of mentality I’m dealing with on this tour. Funny that Sue is the first one to complain about everyone else... and what they do or don’t do.
That night, the wind was a little calmer, and we even managed to build a campfire. Marshmallows were even brought out.
The next day turned out to be one of the best days I’d had “in Saudi Arabia.” I want to make that part clear… in Saudi Arabia.
Well… the beginning was quite shit. I got stuck sitting across from Persnickety on the truck for the entire day. I had to make sure not to glance in her direction for fear I’d lunge across the table and pluck all those long whiskers from her concave face.
We were heading to Wasi Disah. Originally, we were supposed to head further inland and camp for a couple more days… but some of those nights got cut from the itinerary… and hostel accommodation got added. Perfectly fine by me! Less camping, more proper beds.
When we got to Wadi Disah, it turned into a bit of a chaotic mess. The plan was to choose between one, two or three wadis… and then we split into groups. I decided to stick with Tania and Vic… as they’re the only ones I can really tolerate anymore. We were only going to do the one wadi… which was meant to be the best of the three. But upon arrival… things were more disorganized than we had anticipated. A group of guys with jeeps offered to take us on a tour… six people to a jeep… so it was to become more of a free for all. We were all just meant to jump in wherever we could.

While we were waiting for the jeeps to arrive, I turned to Tania and Vic and confirmed, “I’m still with you two.” Before Tania could even speak, Sue butted in aggressively, saying, “The birders have to stick together, so you know I’m with Vic.”
Wow. Ok…
Her tone was icy and presumptuous… and insistent. Tanja and I exchanged a quick glance between us… as Sue stormed off, no doubt, to complain to Persnickety about me.
A little later, I overheard Persnickety murmuring to her, “Remember this is the second time she’s done this,” clearly referring to the drama involving Denise from a couple months back. Oddly enough though… despite never being involved and never being consulted on the matter… because obviously it wasn’t any of her business… yet she always managed to thrust herself in the middle of it all.
Nasty, nasty woman.
I’m so done with her. With the both of them.

We all piled into the one jeep. Karen and I took the back, the Geisha settled in the front… and Sue, Tania and Vic squeezed into the middle seats. Wait… that’s seven people including the driver. Clearly fed up with Sue’s antics, Tania jumped out and declared she’d ride in another vehicle.
Ummm… no.
Vic wasn’t having it. Sue stayed glued to his side, obviously not picking up the hints to clear off… perfectly content to watch Tania go off to find another jeep.
After some chaotic back-and-forth, Sue yelled at the Geisha to switch jeeps. I climbed into the front, Sue begrudgingly abandoned Vic’s side to join Karen in the back… and Tania returned to her seat beside Vic. As I was awkwardly maneuvering my way to the front seat from the back, I couldn’t resist being petty. It was the perfect opportunity to be a bitch. While clambering over the seats, I locked eyes with Persnickety and said, loud enough for her to hear, “This is the SECOND TIME I’ve had to move. The SECOND TIME.”
Then, I made sure to shoot Sue a cheeky look.
They knew.
Oh… they definitely knew.
“Birders must stick together” is… getting old.
Our driver was a man named Abraham… and we had the most spectacular day. The 4WD through the Wadi was nothing short of incredible and it was just like driving through paradise.
Wadi Disah is one of the most breathtaking natural wonders of Saudi Arabia. It’s a magical oasis. The name “Disah” translates to “Valley of Palm Trees,” and the landscape more than lives up to its name.
In addition to the vibrant greenery and lush palm trees, there were towering sandstone cliffs, creating a dramatic canyon that narrowed and opened. The walls of the cliffs were streaked with shades of red, orange and gold that glowed brilliantly in the sunlight.
Despite being in a jeep with Sue… I was so happy to have experienced this hidden gem. The Saudi’s say that Wadi Disah is not just a place… it’s an experience. I know I’ve mentioned that I’ve been a little underwhelmed by Saudi Arabia so far… but Wadi Disah left me in awe of its diverse landscapes.
I loved every second of it.
He even jumped out of the jeep at one point and brought Tania & I some fresh peppermint.

At one photo stop, I asked Karen if I was being completely berated in the back, but all she said was that Sue had been going on and on, endlessly complaining about Persnickety.
Who would have thought there would be so much drama and agony on an overland tour through the Middle East?
… never again…
From Wadi Disah, we made our way to a campsite nearby, just off the road. It was earlier than usual for camp setup, so when Mr. Meat asked if I wanted to go for a walk, I agreed. I figured I could definitely use the exercise… though I wasn’t entirely sure I was craving the mental anguish that would surely come along with a walk with Mr. Meat.
Mr. Meat has a daily step goal, which is admirable. Honestly, I should probably have adopted the same habit, considering how much time I’ve spent just sitting on the truck. It has not been beneficial… nor has it done me any favours.
As we walked, he told me stories about the countries he’s visited, his brothers and his travel plans for the future. He didn’t once ask me a single question about myself… not that I expected him to. A few times, the conversation took a turn toward how great Trump is, how the USA is the saviour of the world… and how Israel is completely right in their convictions. I did have to shut him down a few times, because honestly… there’s only so much I can take.

Then the conversation turned back to “weight lifting.”
As I’ve mentioned, Mr. Meat has proclaimed himself an “expert” when it comes to bench pressing.
He started rambling on again about being a weightlifter. I glanced at him… guessing he’s around 70... give or take? I naturally assumed, when the bragging started, he was reminiscing about his glory days… maybe back in his 20s or 30s. That might make sense… considering time catches up with all of us.
But no.
He wasn’t talking about decades ago… he meant less than 12 months ago. Apparently, he was some sort of weightlifting expert then. Not now!!! Of course… NOW… he can’t even manage to lift even his own luggage. He told me he’d never lifted a weight in his entire life… yet he was a New York police officer?
Oh ok… just so I understand… he was a weight lifting “expert” at the beginning of 2024… but he’s not anymore? This story gets more and more convoluted. He even told me his brother started filming him because he was so inspired by his strength.
I’d kill to see these videos.

I’ve made a few suggestions to Martin and Rosanna about what might make the truck slightly more tolerable.
Massage chair.
Drink dispenser.
Wine tap.
First class pods.
Martin said there wasn’t enough room in the truck… so I suggested I could put together a list of potentially passengers and seats we could eliminate…
Persnickety would be the first to go.
At least the humorous suggestions made Martin perk up again… albeit briefly. It was very short lived though… and he was gone away from us as fast as he could go.
We had minestrone for dinner that evening… and the Geisha was slurping it off his spoon so loudly I was this close to slapping it right out of his hand.
Has no one ever taught this man any manners? Seriously, none.
He wanders around like a walking teapot disaster… his pants or shorts always wedged into his butt crack… farting, burping, coughing up phlegm… and then sits down to eat like a total pig.
He’s unbearable.
Not once have I seen him cover his mouth. Not once have I heard him say “excuse me.”
Not. Once.

Something else monumental happened this evening too. I discovered that Trump had recently made a speech deciding that it would be in Canada’s best interest to become the 51st state.
It annoyed me… a lot.
I felt justified in vocalizing my annoyance, considering Canada is MY country. Around the fire, everyone sided with me… of course… and started berating Trump for all the ludicrous things that have been coming out of his mouth lately. Mr. Meat lost the plot. He decided to launch into this passionate monologue about how Trump was the greatest president of all time, the greatest man on earth… and how Canada should join the United States.
Excuse me???
He even defended the idea of the USA taking Greenland. He just kept going, completely unbothered by logic or reason.
It didn’t stop.
He had nothing else to say except, “Trump is the greatest president of all time. Trump is the greatest man on earth.”
I tried to bite my tongue, but I eventually called Trump a clown… and pointed out that Mr. Meat sounded like he’d been brainwashed. All he was doing was praising Trump without offering any actual valid arguments. Warren and Vic said the world should’ve had a vote in the US election too… considering we all had to deal with the global repercussions. That really set Mr. Meat off. He started yelling, calling us stupid… and repeating, over and over and over, “Trump is the greatest president we’ve ever had. Trump is the greatest man on earth.”
It was like a broken record of propaganda.
I couldn’t take it anymore and finally went to bed. Everyone else let the conversation drop, and Mr. Meat sat in a huff before sulking off to bed himself.
And that… was our final full day in Saudi Arabia.
Next stop… Jordan.
Comments