Sociale Café in Tahlia Street

firstly, some citysouk snaps. . . the cat under the bench, well, that's the bench where I ate my samosa. . . and a rare dog sighting in central Riyadh. . . preparations had begun for Noor Riyadh, the festival of light. . . and I saw cats, this boulder in a tree of unknown significance,

which we didn't, but many many Riyadhis did, with delicious smells of butterflied chicken and corncobs coming off the charcoal burners. . . we'd stopped at a potential spot and intrepid kiwis forded the river on foot, marveling at the heat of the water and the number of

روحي وما ملكت يداي فداه My soul and all that I possess are sacrifice for him وطني الحبيب وهل أحب سواه My beloved homeland, and is there any other I love? وطني الذي قد عشت تحت سماله My homeland under whose sky I have lived وهو الذي قد عشت فوق