There is a very specific type of person in the world. The one who grew up somewhere the rest of the world does not quite understand. Carries a childhood that is genuinely difficult to explain, and feels an immediate, wordless bond the moment they meet someone who also grew up in Saudi Arabia. Growing up in Saudi Arabia is its own category of childhood, a mix of extreme heat, baqala runs, Ramadan nights that felt like they lasted forever, and a collection of very specific objects that will make you smile the second you see them. This one is for you.
The Airplane Bag That Made You Feel Like a Very Important Traveler
You know the one. That tiny backpack they handed you at the start of a long-haul flight, the one with the airplane print, the little toothbrush, the socks, the eye mask. Children who grew up in Saudi Arabia were frequent flyers whether they liked it or not, shuttling between KSA and their passport country every summer. But that moment the cabin crew handed you that miniature bag? Younger you treated it like a luxury gift. You wore the socks immediately, and used the eye mask as a headband. You have never felt more important in your life.
Al Batal Cards: Praying to the Chip Gods
Opening a bag of Al Batal chips was a spiritual experience when you grew up in Saudi Arabia. Not because of the chips, though they were fine. Because of the tazo card inside. You peeled it open slowly, carefully, holding your breath. And when it was a duplicate, the disappointment was crushing. When it was a new one, you held it like a trophy. There was an entire economy of trading those cards at school and somehow everyone had their own system of what was rare and what was worth something.
The Sawa Card: A Test of Patience and Eyesight
Before eSIMs and data packages, there was the Sawa recharge card. You scratched the back carefully, revealed a code that looked like it was designed specifically to cause human suffering, and then typed it digit by digit into your phone. One wrong number and the whole thing failed. You would type it again. And again. And then stand very still and whisper a small prayer before hitting confirm. Growing up in Saudi Arabia meant knowing the specific focused silence of a room where someone was entering a Sawa code.
Pro Clackers: Fun Until Someone Got Hurt
If you do not know what Pro Clackers are, you did not have a proper Saudi childhood. Two heavy plastic balls on a string that you swung until they clacked together rhythmically and then, without warning, one of them made contact with your knuckle. Everyone had them. Everyone got hurt. Yet everyone kept playing. They were eventually banned in more than one school, which only made them more desirable.
The Wristband Ruler
It was a ruler. It was also a wristband. You wore it on your wrist, snapped it flat to measure something, then coiled it back. It served no purpose in life that could not have been served by a regular ruler, and yet everyone had one and everyone snapped it constantly, on and off, in and out of class, for years.
The Baqala Fidget Spinner Drop
Few events in growing up in Saudi Arabia rival the moment the baqala around the corner finally got the new fidget spinner designs in stock. There was no announcement. No marketing campaign. You just walked past one afternoon and saw the display rack, and word spread through the neighborhood at a speed that would impress any social media algorithm. By the next day half the school had one and the teacher was already deciding whether to confiscate them.
The Video Game Console That Lived Under the TV
Before downloads and online stores, getting a new game was a whole event. You either got it from the baqala, a small electronics shop in the mall, or someone brought it back from a trip abroad and suddenly became the most popular person in the neighborhood.
The console of choice was usually a Sega or a Super Nintendo, or later a PlayStation with those thick grey discs that you handled like they were made of glass. The cartridges came in chunky plastic shells that you blew into before inserting, because that was just how it worked and nobody questioned it.
Multiplayer meant sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor, controller cord just barely reaching, arguing about whose turn it was. There was no cloud saving. If the power went out mid-game, you started over. And somehow that made winning feel even better.
The Jewels Chocolate Birthday Ritual
Taking a box of Jewels chocolate to school on your birthday was the move. Not a cake. Not cupcakes. Jewels. The box with the little foil-wrapped pieces shaped like crowns and gems. You walked into class holding it and for approximately one school day you were the most beloved person in the room. This is growing up in Saudi Arabia: you did not need much, but you needed Jewels.
The UHU Glue Stick That Never Ran Out
Every pencil case had one. It survived the whole school year, multiple arts projects, at least three attempts to stick something to a wall, and then somehow made it into the next year’s stationery bag. The UHU glue stick was immortal. It dried out slightly at the edges but never truly gave up. It outlasted friendships, school terms, and in some cases, the stationery bag itself.
The Faber-Castell 36 Color Box
You did not just open the Faber-Castell 36 color pencil tin and use the pencils. You organized them by shade first. Then arranged them in a gradient so perfect it could have been framed. You then ran your fingers across the tops like you were playing a piano and pretended you were operating some kind of advanced control panel. Using the pencils almost felt wrong after that. They were too perfectly arranged to disturb.
Fulla: The Doll That Understood Us
Barbie was fine. But Fulla, the doll with her abaya, her prayer mat, and her modest fashion choices, was something many kids in Saudi Arabia could actually see themselves in. She wore what we wore. She was iconic in her own right, and the children who grew up in Saudi Arabia know this without needing to argue about it.
The Toy Camera With Makkah Inside
It looked like a camera. You clicked a button and looked through the viewfinder and saw a tiny slide show of images, Makkah, Madinah, the Kaaba, mosques. It was sold everywhere, in baqalas, in airport shops, at street stalls near the holy cities. It was one of the most distinctly Saudi childhood objects you could own, and somehow deeply memorable for a toy that did almost nothing.
The Revolving Plastic Gun and Its Sound
You did not fire anything. It just clicked. You pulled the trigger and the barrel revolved and it made that deeply satisfying mechanical clicking sound. Every boy in the neighborhood had one. They were used in games that had elaborate rules nobody else understood and they were the most important prop in every made-up movie you and your friends were definitely going to film one day.
Batook Car Tattoo Chewing Gum: The Underground Trading Market
The gum was secondary. What mattered was the car tattoo sticker that came with it. You collected them like currency. You had duplicates you were willing to trade, and rare ones you absolutely were not. There was an entire negotiation culture around Batook stickers that could have taught a university course in economics. Growing up in Saudi Arabia meant understanding that some things had value the adult world had simply not acknowledged yet.
The Shock Gum From the Baqala
You bought it, pretended it was regular gum and offered it to someone! The pack delivered a small electric shock. The victim reacted. You laughed. They plotted revenge. This cycle continued for at least one full school term. The baqala near school always had stock. The joke never truly got old.
Suntop: You Bought It for the Sticker
The juice was fine. The sticker collection on the back was the reason. Every Suntop had a different sticker, and you had a book you stuck them into, and that book was one of your most prized possessions. You did not know why you needed it. You just knew you needed to complete it.
The Kitchen Drawer That Was a Plastic Bag Museum
Every home. Every single home. There was a drawer in the kitchen that was dedicated entirely to plastic bags from every shop ever visited. Hyper, Panda, Tamimi, random bags from stores that no longer existed. They were folded, stuffed, or just pushed in. The drawer barely closed. No one ever used them. No one ever threw them away. This is universal to growing up in Saudi Arabia.
1 Riyal: The Original Inflation Reference Point
You could get a shawarma and a juice. You could get something from the baqala and still have change. The 1 riyal of childhood was a unit of freedom, and every adult who grew up in Saudi Arabia uses it as their personal benchmark of how much everything has changed. Nothing will ever cost 1 riyal again. We have all accepted this. We have not moved on.
The Corniche Kiosk: The Original Everything Store
Tiny, brightly lit, stuffed with toys, corn on the cob, tamarind water, random sweets, and things you did not know you needed until you saw them. The kiosks along the Corniche were a whole experience. You went for one thing and left with four. Everything there felt like it cost just slightly less than it should, and the man behind the counter always had exactly what you were looking for, somehow.
A Childhood Filled With Shared Memories
Growing up in Saudi Arabia gives you a very specific set of references that not everyone in the room will share, and that is precisely what makes them so worth holding onto. If you felt every single one of these in your chest, you know exactly what this childhood was. And you would not trade it.
It was a childhood of baqala runs and compound summers, of Ramadan nights that stretched past midnight and Eid mornings that smelled like Dibyaza and new clothes. It was loud and warm and full of things that cost almost nothing but somehow meant everything. Wherever you are in the world now, that Saudi kid is still in there somewhere, and honestly, they turned out just fine.
FAQs
What is it like growing up in Saudi Arabia as an expat?
Growing up in Saudi Arabia as an expat is a one-of-a-kind experience. Most expat children lived in compounds or international communities, attended international schools and grew up with a mix of their home culture and Saudi daily life
What are the most nostalgic things people who grew up in Saudi Arabia remember?
Some of the most universally remembered experiences from growing up in Saudi Arabia include collecting Al Batal tazo cards from chip bags, buying fidget spinners from the local baqala, Jewels chocolate on birthdays and the Corniche kiosks.
Did expat children in Saudi Arabia live differently from local Saudi children?
Yes, in some ways. However, daily Saudi life, the baqalas, the malls, Ramadan culture, Eid celebrations, and shared toys and snacks, created a common childhood experience across both expat and local communities.
What toys and school items are most associated with growing up in Saudi Arabia?
Items like Pro Clackers, the wristband ruler, Fulla dolls, the toy camera with Makkah images, Batook car tattoo chewing gum, Shock Gum, UHU glue sticks, and the Faber-Castell colored pencil tin are deeply embedded in the memory of anyone who grew up in Saudi Arabia.
Is the Saudi Arabia childhood experience common among GCC expat kids?
Many of the experiences associated with growing up in Saudi Arabia since similar products, baqala culture, compound life, and regional snacks were common across Saudi Arabia, UAE, Kuwait, and Bahrain.
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This article is brought to you by Soul of Saudi (a Saudi travel blog dedicated to uncovering the beauty, heart, and soul of the Kingdom).
