“We can’t let boredom, bad planning, or Biden prevent us from scoring a decent Kim’s View-Jeddah.”
American Stars and Stripes are flying everywhere as I look out the window of my Uber taxi leaving Jeddah’s King Abdulaziz International Airport. Green and white Saudi Arabian flags alternate with our red-white-and-blue circling a whole roundabout—more than fifty flagpoles. A sense of pride rushes through me. “Look, Sis, they’re flying our flag.” Then I see Bahrain’s flag. And I recognize Qatar’s flag, too. Uh-oh. Is there a big conference in Jeddah now?
I completely whiffed on pre-trip planning for our five-day Jeddah jaunt from Cairo; tomorrow, the Gulf Cooperation Council or “GCC+3”—all nine leaders of the Arab world—plus the United States will start their annual meeting in Jeddah. And to compound my rookie mistake, I booked an Airbnb apartment that’s only three kilometers away from the POTUS’ hotel.
I hear you, Kim … brilliant.
Muslim pilgrims have been coming to Jeddah since 600 AD to complete their hajj to nearby Meccah. But apparently, Jeddah hasn’t added any public transportation infrastructure since the last Crusades. Jeddah has no subway, no tram, no moto-taxis, and worst of all, no tuk-tuks. And the closest bus stop on Jeddah’s puny, six-route bus system is fourteen kilometers away—and it’s over 100°F outside. My only transportation option is Uber.
But Uber taxis can’t reach my residential complex because Jeddah’s main roads are closed as part of the security gauntlet around Biden and the Arab big dogs.
“Holy Medina, Sis, can our Kim’s View-Jeddah mission get any harder?”
Jeddah doesn’t have a slam dunk Kim’s View; there’s no go-to fort, the lighthouse is in the middle of the container port, King Abdullah botanical garden won’t open until next year, and the UNESCO site with Nabatean tombs in Hegra is over 700 kilometers away, too far for a daytrip.
Meccah would be an awesome Kim’s View, but it’s off limits to skinny infidels sporting ponytails.
Jeddah’s iconic King Fahd Fountain—the world’s highest jet of water at 853 feet—would make a great Kim’s View. Along the Jeddah corniche, Saudi families spread out their picnic blankets, Indonesian hajj pilgrims take group photos, and Bangladeshis and Filipinos spend their rare time off gazing at this guizer.
But the surrounding corniche is crowded with hawkers, the mismatching squares of sod are more brown than green, and sunflower seeds are everywhere. This part of the corniche is too crowded and dirty for a Kim’s View.
Jeddah’s Art Promenade sounds promising and an eagle statue just offshore could be a Kim’s View. I’m sweating bullets walking along the deserted corniche—locals have the common sense to stay indoors at this hour—but thankfully there’s a good Red Sea breeze. Small waves break on the lava rock leaving a brown, funky-smelling foam.
The eagle artwork is … meh. We can do better. Our second Kim’s View miss.
I try to escape the heat at a Saudi fast food landmark, Al Baik, but I’m clueless about proper gender etiquette. A young Bangladeshi man behind the counter politely schools me.
“Come over to this side, sir … that’s the ladies’ side.”
After two days of sweaty foot patrol and a couple more Kim’s View misses, the GCC+3 conference ends and all highways open up again. Hallelujah. I continue our search for a cool Kim’s View in Jeddah’s old town, Al Balad.
Al Balad is architecturally awesome, but I can’t find a peaceful spot in the medina-ish maze.
One thing Jeddah does well is public artwork. Jeddah’s former mayor, Dr Mohamed Farsi, started a beautification campaign in the 1970s. Nowadays, Jeddah boasts over six hundred sculptures. Almost every roundabout has a sculpture or fountain.
Four giant lanterns, the Mamluk mosque lamps by Julio LaFuente, are my favorite. But the lanterns are in the middle of a freeway median with no access, which means no Kim’s View.
Saudis are gold medalists in picnicking. Every night the corniche is packed with families as I search for a decent Kim’s View. We can do better than a Red Sea view from the boardwalk, right Sis?
It’s day five. Our last day in Jeddah. We don’t have a Kim’s View yet, but I have an idea; the Jeddah Sculpture Museum—an outdoor park filled with, well, sculptures.
I ask my Uber driver, Mohammed, if he likes crown prince Mohammed bin Salman Al Saud, known as MBS. President Biden is catching flak for fist-bumping MBS when they first met two days earlier.
“Yes, I like MBS. He’s young, he thinks differently than the King. MBS is thinking about the future, about my daughter’s future.”
Mohammed drops me off at the middle corniche. I pull my sunhat down low over my face and tuck my hands into the cuffs of my over-sized dress shirt. Google’s weather app says it feels like 108°F but a slight Red Sea breeze is countering the humidity.
I find the Jeddah Sculpture Museum, but it looks different than the online photos. Less green, more brown. I sit under the shade of a small tree in between sculptures by Spanish artist Joan Miró and Croatian artist Drago Marin Cherina. Is this our spot, Kim?
I’m still not sure this is the right place—yes, we’re facing the Red Sea, but there’s a power station next door, the other side is a parking lot, and behind us is a freeway. The traffic noise and buzz from the power station could be deal-breakers. Is there a nice sculpture with a more peaceful view farther down the corniche?
We’ve been looking for four days. We’re out of time. We don’t have any better options. And crucially, I don’t see any sunflower seeds.
This is our Kim’s View-Jeddah.
After finally creating our Kim’s View, I feel a sense of relief, satisfaction, and pride. I feel like I’ve accomplished another small goal, like we’ve made progress. We’re one step closer to the finish line of our Kim’s View global marathon.
“Note to self, Kim; Make sure my Airbnb isn’t three kilometers away from the POTUS’ hotel.”
As I walk away from the sculpture park along the corniche I realize that Kim’s View has a direct line-of-sight to King Fahd’s fountain, Jeddah’s coolest (and only?) attraction.
Voilà, mission accomplished. KV
