From Saudi Deserts to Island Shores: 6-Months of English Teaching, Travel, and Transformation

After teaching in Oman, my wife and I embarked on one of our most memorable and transformative teaching adventures—half a year in Saudi Arabia.

From the arid expanses of Al Quwayiyah to compound weekends in Riyadh, from Bahraini escapes to island serenity in Mauritius, our experience blended challenge, cultural contrast, and healing discovery.

In late December 2014, we took up contracts as EFL lecturers at the Colleges of Technology in Al Quwayiyah, a remote town along the ancient caravan route to Mecca. My wife taught at the female college, while I taught at the male college, in Saudi Arabia’s strictly gender-segregated higher education system.

Al Quwayiyah, set amid flat beige terrain and date farms, is a deeply traditional town with a strong tribal presence. We stayed in a married staff compound, a basic but secure residence that offered routine and peace.

Our academic focus was on grammar, speaking, and vocabulary development for foundation-level students. Many came from rural areas and struggled with English. Classes were large, motivation varied, and resources limited, but the students were respectful, and some truly eager to learn.

Teaching required balancing cultural awareness with academic expectations, especially given the rigid social codes. My wife and I could not teach together, and male and female students were educated entirely separately, with different buildings, timetables, and even admin teams.

Our lives outside the classroom followed a steady, no-frills routine shaped by the rhythms of Al Quwayiyah. There were no malls, cinemas, or entertainment venues—just the essentials, hidden in plain sight. Instead of weekends, we did our shopping during the week: the company mini-bus would take us into town for a precious hour to an hour and a half of speed shopping in the afternoons.

We made the most of those quick outings—rushing through the vegetable and meat market (سوق الخضار واللحوم) where local farmers and expat vendors sold fresh produce straight off their trucks. We’d dart into فرصة لكل شي (Farasah Likulli Shay)—a colorful discount store where shelves overflowed with bargain goods from stationery to sandals. The nearby shopping arcade, shaded by high pillars, offered abayas, perfumes, household items, and the occasional conversation with curious shopkeepers.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough. These regular town runs became a slice of normalcy—a chance to stock up, socialize, and soak in the slow charm of a desert town few outsiders ever get to see.

We relied on Sudanese drivers who took us into town for quick shopping runs. Everything operated around the five daily prayer calls. Shops would abruptly shut, traffic would halt, and if you were mid-shop, you'd either rush or wait it out in the van.

Lunches with colleagues like Salim and Saeed became small pleasures. Salim often drove us to Pakistani, Indian, or Turkish eateries, many of them humble roadside kitchens with incredible food.

Near our compound was a patch of open desert, where I often walked in the evenings. It later became the site of my student-led environmental restoration project.

With a small but dedicated group, we:

• Collected litter

• Raised environmental awareness

• Closed off a dilapidated open well to prevent livestock accidents

While initial interactions were cautious, local hospitality slowly revealed itself. My wife and I were once stopped by a family who offered snacks and handed their newborn to my wife to hold.

A Yemeni perfume seller regularly chatted with us, once gifting us a small bottle for free.

Every second weekend, we escaped the monotony of Al Quwayiyah for a stay at the Seder Village Compound in Riyadh—an expat community with pools, restaurants, a massage parlor, and salon. These breaks helped us reset.

One afternoon, we dressed up and had high tea at the Ritz-Carlton Riyadh. Sitting in ornate lounges, sipping tea under chandeliers, it was a surreal contrast to our desert routine.

We visited Bahrain twice—a total of 13 days across two trips, each offering a needed breath of freedom.

Before starting our Saudi contracts, we spent three days in Bahrain. It felt like a reset button—modern, relaxed, and dotted with Christmas lights and coffee shops. We stayed in Juffair, strolled the Manama Corniche, and visited the Bahrain Fort and Museum.

After our contracts ended, we returned to Bahrain for 10 days in June 2015, decompressing before heading back to South Africa.

We:

• Took long evening walks along the Corniche

• Dined at Indian, Lebanese, and Thai restaurants

• Watched the sunset from Bahrain Marina

• Explored local souqs, bought souvenirs, and recharged emotionally

• At the Bahrain Fort Museum Café, we enjoyed a slice of cheesecake and a cup of tea while watching a spectacular sunset over the ocean—a serene, reflective moment that set the tone for the year to come.

In contrast to Saudi Arabia, Bahrain offered social freedom, diverse cuisines, and a vibrant cultural mix that made us feel reconnected to the world.

After a year of gender-segregated teaching, desert winds, and conservative restrictions, we booked a two-week honeymoon-style escape to Mauritius. Staying at the Preskil Beach Resort, we found ourselves surrounded by turquoise lagoons, sugarcane fields, and French-Creole hospitality.

We lounged under palm trees, dipped into the clear lagoon waters, and finally had uninterrupted time together. The resort’s blend of laid-back charm and comfort was the perfect setting to reconnect and recharge.

With a rental car, we explored the east and west coasts:

• Wandered through Mahebourg’s sleepy coastal streets

• Visited Chamouny and Black River Gorges viewpoint (no hikes, just photo ops!)

• Marveled at Mauritian sugarcane plantations

• Sipped vanilla tea at Saint Aubin Sugar Estate

• Took scenic drives through Route Royale and quaint villages

• Explored colonial history at Domaine de Bel Ombre

But most of all, we simply walked barefoot on the beach, watched sunsets over the bay, and let the healing power of God restore us after a demanding year.

From desert teaching in Al Quwayiyah to compound luxury in Riyadh, from Bahraini modernity to Mauritian serenity, this year became a microcosm of what TEFL can offer: grit, cultural awareness, global perspective, and personal growth.

It challenged our patience, enriched our marriage, deepened our teaching, and reaffirmed our commitment to living a life of exploration and purpose.