My family and friends were worried, relatives concerned and colleagues gave me that cynical look but I was determined to travel to Saudi Arabia to live with my Canadian husband. More than curiosity and adventurism, it was the love of my husband that was pulling me. I had my reservations but I made my decision and there was no turning back. I bid farewell to Belgrade and boarded my Saudia flight.
I was leaving behind everything that I had been building for 15 years. I left my job as a PR consultant in which I invested my dreams and a lot of hard work. I often spent weekends, public holidays and endless nights on the computer, working on various PR campaigns.
It was an interesting world filled with a variety of clients both domestic and foreign, colorful artists, brilliant copywriters, suave models including one Serbian count, a tenor and a handful of politicians.
The shadow of fame fell over me and I learned to enjoy it. I no longer had to apply for new positions — new opportunities were looking for me, and it was me who was choosing the terms. Now I was leaving everything behind. I left my favorite shops in Belgrade, my favorite designers where I used to buy my clothes, my favorite hairdresser who always knew exactly which hairstyle suited me perfectly, and also my favorite beauty salon for pampering and massages.
I left behind my favorite restaurants where I often dined with well-known editors and journalists, chatting about new world trends in movies, music and books. I left my parents, my sister and friends. Everything that once was my life vanished in that one day when I boarded that plane in Belgrade on a cold, snowy December morning and then landed in Dammam on the same day.
However, that was my decision, and I decided to face my new life bravely. The “only” things I had to do were to get to know my new husband Budislav Bulatovic and Saudi Arabia better. I got married in September 2007, and two months later we began our new life in Jubail Industrial City. People usually spend their honeymoon in Hawaii, Florida, Rome, Paris, or New York. I spent my honeymoon in Jubail, in my first abaya. Everyday my husband would go to work at 7 a.m. and come back at 6 p.m., with an hour lunch break during which he would come home. I had a lot of time to spare and an opportunity to create a new life. To start all over again.
I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t socialize or go for coffees with the other women on the compound where we live — I couldn’t speak the language. It didn’t matter that much — I used to encourage myself. And so I would get up in the morning and ask myself: What do I know about Saudi Arabia? They have oil, they have abayas, deserts, high temperatures and that’s it! Nothing else? Strange. We live on the same planet, which is very small, yet we do not know each other at all. We live next to each other as if beside complete aliens — different nations, countries and cultures.
Very soon I started writing a column for a magazine in Belgrade. It became a regular column which I named Through my Kaleidoscope: Arabian Gulf. My wish was for Serbian readers to learn more about Saudi Arabia, together with me, and also to find out more about the Kingdom’s neighboring countries (the UAE, Bahrain and Kuwait).
Once a year, the Royal Commission organizes a Flower Festival, a Date Festival and a Heritage Festival in our town. This is where I first experienced Saudi traditions and cultural heritage. My husband took photographs and I wrote about these issues. That is how we became a two-man team. Pure accident or was it destined to happen? Who knows?
I sent the article about the Flower Festival to several newspapers and magazines in Serbia. A dozen papers published it. That encouraged me to continue writing and also encouraged my husband to continue taking photographs.
Later on, I shared all of my discoveries and knowledge with readers in my country — my first encounter with the paintings of artist Nada Farhat in Dhahran Gallery at her sixth exhibition. Nada is a very unusual woman. Although she graduated with a degree in medicine, her need to create art prevailed.
Then I was lucky to meet Albaylasan, an artists’ group from Alkhobar. The group consists of nine women artists, all producing their work in different mediums — oil on canvas, aquarelle, graphite, and collage. They seem completely different at first glance — art and friendship is what brings them together.
On another occasion, I was mesmerized by the paintings of Saeed Al-Alawi at the exhibition “City Walls.” One of his paintings, depicting the walls of Jeddah, adorns our living room now. It hangs comfortably besides the painting I brought from Serbia. I often look at those two paintings. I haven’t visited Jeddah yet, but it feels like I know the place. The Serbian landscape and Jeddah in one place — on our wall — side by side, in harmony, no longer strangers and no longer foreigners.
And so passed the days, weeks and years. I wrote about the miswak, about Saudi doors, Riyadh, fashion designer Amina Jassim, and the humanitarian work of Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques King Abdullah. I published more than 100 articles about a country that I had hardly known anything about until recently.
Today, both in Jubail and Alkhobar, I have my favorite shops, galleries, beauty salons, restaurants and cafes. I have favorite magazines and TV channels. I have made new friends. According to statistics you need four years to overcome the culture shock of moving from one country to another. However, it can happen faster if you decide that it’s possible.
