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Under a glowing Arab moon on a hot winter night, Abdullah was showing off the jewels of his city—charming green, blue, and brown houses built on the Red Sea more than a hundred years ago.The houses, empty now, are stretched tall to capture the sea breeze on streets squeezed narrow to capture the shade.

The families of these girls would have been horrified if photographs of their daughters were circulated and just as horrified to know that they had sent the photographs in the first place.Long averse to non-Muslim curiosity seekers, the Kingdom is now flirting with tourism, though drinking is forbidden and women can’t drive—or do much of anything—without a man.Armed with moxie and a Burqini, the author confronts the limits of Saudi Arabian hospitality, as well as various male enforcers, learning that, as always, it matters whom you know.I wanted to know all about Eve.“Our grandmother Eve?” asked Abdullah Hejazi, my boyish-looking guide in Old Jidda.During the radio session, he cited incidents where women had virtually spoken to men on the Web to give advice on certain issues, only to have the men become attached to them. Al-Mutlaq’s advice evoked several varied responses on Twitter.

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