From timeless tales to modern media, stories have long shaped our perceptions of far-flung locations around the globe, some more seductive and others more sinister. In the case of Saudi Arabia, that fine line throughout history has always been blurred. The romantic images of camel caravans traversing trade routes across vast dunes, of markets wafting with frankincense and myrrh, or even of pious souls circumambulating a mysterious black cube, have all appealed to our sense of Middle Eastern fantasy. On the flip side, reports of blatant women's rights violations, of limited freedoms in light of frightening fundamentalism, and even regrettable ties to past acts of terrorism, have often tarnished Western views of life in the "forbidden" kingdom. One thing's for certain - Saudi Arabia is rich. But as I was quick to learn, its wealth stems from far more than merely the overflow of oil or patronage of pilgrims.
The idea of going to Saudi Arabia would have made me chuckle three years ago. Only a hundred years ago, this was a land of fierce, nomadic Bedouin tribes occupying one of the most inhospitable deserts on earth. The kingdom had advanced remarkably fast within only a century since being founded in 1932 by King Abdulaziz, who sought to bring a new modernized nation to the world stage. The wealth that followed the discovery of oil in 1938 further spurred needed development, albeit with the significant caveat of growing American and European influence. Between cultural hostility towards the West and puritanical religious conservatism dictating all facets of life, Saudi Arabia has essentially been completely off limits to anyone who isn't either a Muslim pilgrim seeking Mecca or a wealthy businessman drilling black gold. The concept of leisure tourism, as well as the infrastructure to support it, simply did not exist. Yet only as recently as 2019, Saudi Arabia surprised the world with its unexpected decision - the first in its history - to issue tourist visas, finally granting international thrill-seekers like me a chance to get a tantalizing glimpse behind its veil.
Cruising the Red Sea in style
Journey to Jeddah: The Gateway to Mecca
For centuries, the pilgrimage to Mecca has been marked by extreme difficulty and obstacles. For many, a journey that could potentially take years gave no guarantee that family members would even return. While modern machines have greatly shortened the duration, they haven't always simplified the trip. I painfully found that out when American Airlines delayed my flight mere hours before my departure, effectively making me miss two subsequent transfers. The trip seemed over before even starting. The spirit of Ramadan was not sufficient to keep my peace; a three-hour long, infuriating rant with customer service was able to at least get me as far as New York, trapped for 24 hours. Following an 11 hour flight to Amman, Jordan (delayed by over an hour), I arrived at Queen Alia International to the utter mayhem of other panicking passengers with near-miss transfers to cities across the Middle East. "Don't worry, the plane will wait for you" was the most overused phrase of the day from the nonchalant Royal Jordanian crew, completely unfazed by Western tourists confused by the concept of "inshallah time". Arriving at a closed gate with a few passengers and zero staff, for a flight that had supposedly already departed, I waited anxiously wondering how many more days would be lost simply trying to get to Saudi Arabia. Suddenly, a pilot arrived from seemingly nowhere, casually cruising down the corridor to the cockpit of a quiet Boeing 787. The gate opened, we boarded, and took off all within 10 minutes. There were only 10 people on the evening flight to Jeddah.
KSA - still not a popular tourist destination... yet!
Jeddah - Jewel of the Red Sea - with its glitzy lights and ostentatious high-rises, rose up from the barren beaches like a mirage backed by a humid haze engulfed Hijaz Mountains. Cruising down Madinah Munawara Expressway in a rush of speeding cars, our eyes were met by endless strip malls of western restaurant chains, luxury car dealers, lavish housing compounds, and an overabundance of mosques. Half of the city seemed to be in some state of discombobulated construction, empty lots of building skeletons and brand-new roadways sitting idle in the sand. At 11 PM in the evening, the temperature still exceeded 30°C (86°F), the coastal humidity adding to the stickiness of sweat on one's brow. It was the first night of Eid Al Fitr, the end of the holy month of Ramadan and one of Islam's biggest holidays, as hundreds of men, women, and children in their finest white and black robes began to invade the cities eateries en masse. After more than two days of travel without sleep or shower, we managed to squeeze our haggard, underdressed bodies into the only restaurant that could accommodate us on such short notice - a PF Chang's Chinese restaurant, of all places - sitting amongst large families in their finest party attire and heavy oud perfumes, voraciously chowing down on orange chicken after midnight. It was the most surreal Eid I've ever celebrated.
The holiday schedule only further added to the existing complicated hours of operation here in Saudi Arabia. In addition to businesses closing down for around four hours in the afternoon, many businesses were closed all day, opening only from 5 PM to midnight. As is typical of the Arabian Gulf states, with daytime temperatures exceedingly 40°C (104°F), streets were void of most people throughout the daytime hours. The following morning, we cruised around the only place with some degree of activity, the local fish market straddling the port of Jeddah, overflowing with a dazzling array of multicolored Red Sea fish and mollusks, some species the size of a large dog. In the hot salty air, the fish market was a smelly, noisy, and bustling place, as Bangladeshi fish mongers hollered out to passing customers the latest catch of the day. We walked to Al-Balad, the old historical quarter and original 7th century settlement of Jeddah, with its labyrinthine alleyways towered over by exquisite 16th century architectural high-rises of coral stone and wood. Elaborately carved latticework windows of green, blue, and mahogany colors projected from the whitewashed towers in a stunning scene of elegant antiquity. Many buildings had been restored while others continued to remain in a state of decay, slowly crumbling into piles of wood beams and dust. Old Jeddah had recently been added to the UNESCO world heritage list, prompting massive restorations as part of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's 2030 tourism initiative, which for the first time helped Saudis to recognize the value of their historical treasures containing cultural rather than religious importance. As we meandered our way through the maze, we came upon the imposing Bab Makkah, the stone gateway under whose arches have passed billions of Muslims journeying towards the sacred Kaaba in Mecca throughout millennia of history.
Colorful Red Sea catch at Jeddah Fish Market
A very local kebab in Old Jeddah
Passing along the old pilgrim route to Mecca through Old Jeddah, at the hottest time of day
Scenes from the Yemeni Souq in Old Jeddah
Bab Makkah - the original gate beginning the road to the holiest city in Islam
Roshan windows, a signature of Al Balad
Traditional Hijazi architecture
In the blazing heat of the noonday sun, the ancient flats towered silently above empty streets of boarded-up shop fronts, a veritable ghost town reclaimed by hundreds of napping cats. But in the warm glow of a crescent moon, the old quarter magically transformed into a scene from the 1001 Nights, illuminated Eid lanterns strung between rooftops and the sounds of a bustling bazaar echoing through alleys to the tunes of vintage Arabic music. The streets filled with local holiday revelers, sultry eyes gazing from beneath veiled faces alongside regal robed sheikhs wafting in oud. Clinking cardamom coffee cups and popping firecrackers created a festive rhythm to which locals snacked, shopped, and socialized, the shrill screams of delighted children breaking whatever corner of silence remained in the old city. It was a memorable Eid in the heart of Islam.
Al Balad at night, when the souq shops open
Families enjoying the first night of Eid al-Fitr holiday
Saudi coffee, a light-roast cardamom and saffron infused national beverage
Journey to Al Ula: Lost Civilizations of Arabia
Following the blowing sands north, the little Hyundai Elantra sped through scenes of searing desolation on empty black roads, well overtaking the original "ships of the desert" that could be occasionally seen nibbling on acacia brush precariously by the roadside. The ancient camel caravan route that once connected Mecca in the Hijaz to the lands of Palestine and Syria had now morphed into a six-lane highway that followed the Red Sea coast, crossing vast stretches of flat dusty terrain littered with abandoned tires and car wreckage. Once the domain of Bedouin nomads and masked marauders, one now had to keep a watchful eye out for the quintessential jackass driver, obnoxiously tailgating in an SUV before speeding off at upwards of 190 kmh (118 mph). Driving in Saudi Arabia is not for the faint of heart, as even the Saudis themselves have shamelessly described their drivers as "majaneen" (crazies). The roads were winding, unnecessarily convoluted with U-turns, and often nonsensical in their design, where the lines demarcating lanes essentially meant nothing, and drivers constantly played chicken by veering head first into oncoming traffic when passing. In the worst case, two cars would pass you simultaneously, one in the oncoming lane with another on the shoulder of the highway. Many cars were beaten to a pulp with large indentations, cracked windows, missing mirrors, and broken fenders from blind and typically illegal maneuvers. This level of recklessness and indifference has unsurprisingly resulted in Saudi Arabia boasting the greatest vehicular fatality rate of all high-income nations in the world. Despite knowing this, we continued to drive in an anxious state of vigilance.
En route to Al Ula oasis, taken in the searing 45 C (113 F) breeze
The Hijaz Mountain Range
Signs for sandstorms and camel crossings are essential. We encountered both.
Despite the mayhem, our road trip cautiously progressed northward, passing by massive coastal petroleum refineries that filled the boiling air with the heavy aroma of black crude. A lunch stop was made in the quaint port village of Yanbu, where the old historical quarter contained a strip of little seafood restaurants filling the air with a new aroma of fried fish and grilled prawns. We had no luck at the first joint, as the presence of my mother unfortunately couldn't be accommodated. Saudi Arabia's strict Salafi rules on gender segregation has meant that nearly all dining establishments have two separate sections, one for single men and another for families. Until recently, women weren't even allowed to be out of the house without a related male chaperone, hence the nonexistence of a female-only section. The second restaurant, however, could accept us, and we excitedly selected a giant orange Najil fish and shrimp from a large case exhibiting the fresh abundance of that morning's catch. As we had just begun to sit, the call to prayer suddenly rang out across the silent town, melodically billowing from nearby minaret loudspeakers to which all men heeded. We were ushered out of the restaurant and told to return in 20 minutes, as the cooks began to drop everything, board up the kitchen, and head to the nearest mosque. While waiting for the restaurant to reopen, we strolled through the old quarter, with its eerily silent alleys and empty bazaar, littered with the remnants of a community Eid festival from the previous night. We delightfully came across a former house of the famed T.E. Lawrence, the British Army officer whose adventures and exploits during the Great Arab Revolt and Syria-Palestine Campaigns of the early 20th century earned him the immortalized epithet "Lawrence of Arabia". We circled back to the restaurant, the wooden boards removed and the giant oiled woks fired up once again. On the second floor "family" section, we were given one of several small private rooms, void of anything but a large rug and rectangular cushions. Removing our shoes, we sat on the floor, briefly waiting before two large trays of savory fried seafood and spiced rice were placed before us, along with a selection of tamarind and tahini sauces. Eating with our hands, we delved right into chunks of crispy fish and a quarter kilo of juicy shrimp.
Old Town Yanbu architecture
Outside of T.E. Lawrence's house, where he lived 1915-1916
Fried Najil fish and shrimp over black rice
The journey from Yanbu took a sharp turn towards the northeast, moving away from the coast through the Hijaz range and into an even deeper and drier desert. Beige domesticated camels followed by their Bedouin herders gradually became black-haired wild camels roaming freely among the acacias, as black rocky surfaces turned to beige wispy dunes. Red sandstone cliffs began to sprout from the earth in massive chunks. Every village we passed between the coast and the mountains grew evermore desolate and empty, mini ghost towns of semi-abandoned buildings, destroyed foundations, and refuse blowing in the scorching 45°C (113°F) breeze. Eight hours later, in the middle of nowhere, and with a remaining 100km of driving, we suddenly faced the worst possible outcome for any road trip - a flat tire. The idea of being stranded alone in a veritable outdoor oven, with a whole week of activities in jeopardy, kept us anxiously on edge as we slowly drove along the empty highway on the flattening tire, wondering how much further we could get before the car became immobilized. By sheer luck and like a mirage in the distance, the fork in the road had a small tire repair shop, the only one we had seen for seemingly hundreds of kilometers. The sleeping men seemed startled by our sudden appearance, even more so by my desperate pleas in Arabic for an immediate solution to our problem. Within 20 minutes, we were back on the empty road with a questionable yet otherwise plugged tire, at least sufficiently inflated to get us to the next bigger town of Al Ula by nightfall. Arriving relieved at this massive oasis of date palms nestled between monolithic cliffs, we successfully located by GPS coordinates our rental apartment, a single flat surrounded by open sand lots, unfinished constructions, and of course a mosque right next door.
Repairing a flat in the middle of nowhere
The oasis of Al Ula, stretching through the desert valley
Some locals refused to get off the road, and decided to inspect us instead
Home in the new Al Ula town
Most of the world tends to see the Middle East only through the lens of the media, greatly sensationalized and almost positive to be negative. The post-9/11 sentiment has often characterized all Saudis as being sinister and openly hostile towards Westerners, an untrustworthy and unwelcoming people. I vehemently could not disagree more. While every nation has its bad apples, a mere three days on the road in The Kingdom have shown me some of the most gracious and hospitable people I've ever encountered. An uncle and his niece spotted us taking photos and anxiously invited us to their home. A family of five passed us while stopped on the side of the highway, turned the car around, and then drove back simply to get out and chat with us for a few minutes. A young pre-teen boy in a village tire shop asked us to join the mechanics for Arabic coffee after repairing the flat. Proud veiled women constantly called out to my mother, asking if a fellow female was enjoying her visit in their homeland. An old shiekh and owner of a date farm let us spend the afternoon relaxing on cushions in his palm grove. Traveling in a land with essentially no foreign tourists, it was touching to see what lengths the local people would go to in making contact with us. These are the stories that never hit the headlines, but truly important images that can break existing stereotypes and misconceptions.
Sand dusted rock outcrops and sheer-faced cliffs of orange sandstone soared thousands of feet above the long green strip of emerald date palms. The oasis of Al Ula looked like a paradisiacal realm extracted from the pages of storybooks and diaries of adventurers, an enclave of life sheltered from the harsh and foreboding desert. The land has been occupied since Neolithic times, witnessing the passing of countless cultures and Near Eastern civilizations. With The Kingdom having recently opened three years ago, the area has seen a mad rush of historians and scholars, turning the valley into a hotbed of archaeological activity that have already yielded history-altering finds. The ancient Old Town of Al Ula, originally founded on the site of the 1st millenium BC Biblical city of Dadan, had been continuously occupied from the 13th century AD up until as late as the 1980s, its inhabitants wedged tightly into a canyon that ran north-south deep into an endless sea of red. We wandered through its ruins and restored sections, artistically decked out in colorful textiles and pottery, woven baskets filled with dried dates and spices. Carved tables and chairs with tribal cushions filled the main walking street of cafes, outdoor restaurants, and boutique shops. The scene was so idealized, it felt as if one were walking through a studio film set, albeit in the complete absence of people. Almost everything in Saudi Arabia has been closed until early evening, when the heat becomes slightly more tolerable and the locals frequent restaurants and shops. For the time being, wandering alone down the narrow alleys of the ancient village, with its crumbling mud brick buildings and roofs of palm fronds, was a relaxing passage through time, back to when generations of Arabs lived in simple structures rather than the ostentatious flats and villas of the present. Many of the empty houses looked as if they had only been abandoned yesterday, with kitchen tools still lying on the floor and colorful folk murals still gracing their earthen walls.
The centuries old mud-brick ruins of Old Town Al Ula
Old Town backs against sheer sandstone cliffs
View from The Pink Camel coffeeshop
Legacy of the ancient spice trade that past through the region
Saudis love their dates
Old Town at dusk, when shops open and people fill the outdoor cafes and restaurants
Despite being Saudi Arabia's biggest attraction, the signs of a local tourism infrastructure in its infancy were clearly visible in Al Ula, although lackadaisically put together and constantly fluctuating. The Al Ula museum that was at the center of town a month earlier suddenly no longer existed without any explanation by the time of our arrival, while many new buildings for tourist amenities remained unfinished. Misinformation and miscommunication were also rampant, with no one seeming to agree on what sites were open and when. Hours of operation were the biggest grey spots, with little regard for the concept of time aside from the five daily Islamic prayers announced by the melodic voice of a muezzin from the nearest minaret. Places, sights, dining establishments, and shops all seemed to be in a perpetual state of closure until after Salat Al-Asr (afternoon prayer, around 4 PM), and even that time seemed ambiguous and changing daily. Everything would stop running and close for around 20 to 30 minutes during each prayer throughout the day, sometimes trapping you inside a restaurant or market until the doors were unlocked and windows reopened again. Given our luck, our personal schedule constantly experienced prayer conflicts, something that forced us to acquire Buddhist-level patience and flexibility. Opening hours were also based on the specific day, which changed depending on the establishment. The shifted schedule and inconsistent timings often complicated our need to eat or take rest from the exhausting heat. Thankfully, we were able to spend what we eventually dubbed "dead time" in the shade of a refreshingly cool palm grove, upon carpets and Bedouin cushions surrounded by banana trees and mint fields found off the old Dadan trail cutting through the oasis. During another afternoon of dead time, we strolled through the vast desert north of the town, an open expanse of sand with megalithic rock outcrops sporting a variety of natural formations, including the famed Jabal al-Fil (Elephant Rock) and the "Bottle" archway. The pace of travel was certainly relaxed and often spontaneous, much like most of Saudi life.
The sheikh of the oasis kindly let us relax in his outdoor majlis
Crossing the desert to view "The Bottle", one of Al Ula's massive natural arches
Al Ula's famed "Elephant Rock" (Jabal al-Fil)
Camels crossing all over the terrain and frequently onto roads
Our culinary adventures in Al Ula have certainly not disappointed us. Coming across another seafood restaurant, we ordered take-out of some lobsters, fish fillets, and half a kilo of prawns, thinking they'd simply be fried or grilled within minutes. After nearly 40 minutes of perplexed waiting, the friendly cooks provided us with a massive bag of four large containers. We returned to our apartment after 9 PM, and to our utter bafflement, opened the boxes to reveal elaborately dressed platters of our chosen seafood, beautifully arranged and covered in various sauces, sides, and condiments upon beds of spiced rice or pasta. It was destined to be the most extravagant take-away meals we'd ever encountered, and a fresh seafood feast in the middle of the desert in addition to that. Another meal that caught us by surprise was lunch at the Al Ula Heritage Kitchen, where we sat on the floor of our private family section. Having asked them to bring a meal suitable for three people, we were presented with a giant platter covered in buttery white rice, noodles, and a quarter section of goat, including the whole head, a meal fitting for probably six people. Succulent, tender, and perfectly spiced, it was certainly the most flavorful preparation of goat I've ever tasted. Though we could barely walk after such a rich meal, we still managed to cross the street for a take-away dessert of crispy kunafah and pistachio covered basbousa.
A giant tray of goat head mandi
Ordering fresh seafood in the desert
Our unexpectedly massive seafood feast
The Al Ula valley has been occupied since the dawn of mankind, with successive cultures and civilizations passing through and leaving their mark etched or hewn from the living rock. Carved tombs and remnants of temples from 3000 year-old cultures like Dadan dotted the valley, as well as a hidden canyon near Jabal Ikmah whose rock walls were covered in thousands of carved Dadanic and Thamudic inscriptions, an eternal outdoor library of stone post-it notes. The region's most famous landmark was undoubtedly the ancient necropolis of Hegra, the largest and most southern city of the mighty Nabataean empire whose capital was centered in Petra, Jordan. Known colloquially as Mada'in Saleh, having been believed my Muslims to be the lost city from which the prophet Saleh hailed, the tombs were unique for their elegant placement in the giant sandstone outcrops that sprinkle the desert, imposing edifices and cleanly carved gateways of bold linear and geometric elements serving as portals through time. Though Petra contains the most ornate and largest of tombs from the Nabataean period, the beauty of the Hegra facades lay in their near perfect preservation, long since protected by the sands, untouched by tourism, and often left alone by the locals due to the belief that they are cursed. The walls of the tombs were so smooth and edges so sharp that they could easily have been cut from the stone yesterday, radiating a wonderful orange hue in the sunlight whose intensity only increased throughout the day. Many tombs shared one rock cliff, however, the most prized structure was the imposing Qasr Farid, the largest of the tombs that was hewn into a completely isolated rock mound towering 22 meters (72 feet) above the shifting sands. As an ongoing archaeological research site, the tombs were highly regulated, often by young women fully covered in long black abayas and niqab veils. Though initially uncertain on how to converse with faceless figures, one young charismatic curator opened up to us about the absolute thrill of finally having a job as a site guide and receiving a good paycheck. Until recently, women were forbidden to drive or work in any public sector. Nevertheless, the curator's enthusiasm about holding some degree of newfound independence, while also saving money for potentially owning her very own car, was truly a heartwarming feeling to behold in such a magical and ancient setting, a personal testimony completely worth traveling across the world to hear.
Exploring the ancient Nabatean necropolis at Mada'in Saleh (Hegra)
Some of the finest tombs cut from the rock
Vintage car paradise
The Saudis are such a clean-cut and dashing people
Tombs cut into the cliffside that are still undergoing excavation
Three-thousand year old Dadanic inscriptions at Jabal Ikmah
The ancient Biblical city of Dadan, or what's left of it
Journey to Al Madinah: City of the Prophet
As the birthplace of the world's second largest religion and the fastest growing, Saudi Arabia hosts two of Islam's most holiest sites. Mecca has been completely off-limits to non-Muslims since time immemorial, with "infidels" paying the price of death throughout most of history for attempting to infiltrate the city. In more recent times, the penalty has ranged from fines and jail terms to immediate deportation, with regular police checkpoints placed along the highways to rigorously inspect one's Muslim identity. A similar restriction has also applied to the second holiest city of Madinah, up until merely half a year ago, when very subtle and unannounced changes began to emerge showing a potential shift in policy regarding permitting a non-Muslim presence. Prior to travel, we sought clarification about whether we as non-Muslims could even enter the city limits, with plenty of conflicting reports and no definitive information. One hotel had already refused to accept us, however, the Le Meridien outside of the central "Haram" (restricted) area permitted us to make a reservation. We nervously decided to give it a shot.
The road from Al Ula to Al Madinah passed through stunning scenes of rocky mountains, desert dunes, and vast fields of only large black rocks (hamadas). Countless columns of dust devils spun their way across the landscape, herds of camels slowly trudging along the roadside. At several points in the middle of nowhere, we passed by several of the decaying stone Hejaz Railway stations built at the turn of the 20th century by the Ottomans during their occupation of the region. I envisioned them being some of the many locations where T.E. Lawrence led bands of Arab rebels in infamous missions to sabotage the tracks, in one of the most chaotic proxy wars to have sprung up in the tumult of WWI. Our small country road had suddenly grown into a perfectly pristine 10-lane superhighway, likely to accommodate the millions of pilgrims who come to the city after visiting Mecca during the Haj season. Coming over the sandy cliffs into the valley below, Madinah spread out like a rolling blanket of whitewashed buildings, massive domes with minarets, and new flashy mall lights. Unlike the relatively subdued and quiet cities we'd seen, the streets were filled with the bustle of pilgrims and merchants, cars buzzing along massive highway overpasses and colliding at multi-lane traffic circles in Madinah's congested cityscape. "Mayhem" cannot even begin to describe the driving situation around the city, with cars seemingly ignoring any and all traffic rules, driving in seemingly any direction desired, which created a nightmarish scenario of constant near-misses for my stressed father behind the wheel. Two-lane streets somehow managed to accommodate four lanes of cars, all cutting and pushing through towards their destinations, sometimes resorting to driving down the wrong side of the road in opposing traffic if necessary. By some miracle, we were able to find a tight parking spot on a street filled with migrating pilgrims and sidewalk merchants peddling gaudy prayer rugs, Islamic clothing, and tacky religious souvenirs. We dodged reckless vehicles in walking towards the Haram, the sacred center containing the famous Masjid Nabawy, the second largest and second oldest mosque in the world also serving as the final resting place of the Prophet Muhammad. We cautiously approached the imposing monument, the moment of truth upon us. Would we be accepted or rejected?
Remnants of an original train and station of the Hejaz Railway, here at Al Buwayr
Entering Al-Madinah, Islam's second holiest city
The entrance to the vast mosque courtyard was heavily guarded, although I did not know to what extent we could get in proximity to this sacred place. We understood that entering the actual mosque was forbidden, nevertheless, I inquired with one of the guards if entering the courtyard was permitted. Wearing Islamic clothing and speaking Arabic, I apprehensively asked if my family could enter, despite my father obviously appearing completely out of place. The guard then asked if I myself was Muslim, a question that ironically caught me off guard. In a complete lapse of forethought, I anxiously said yes, a conversation that morphed into an impromptu story of how I, along with my Muslim mother dressed in her black abaya with hijab, wished to "share the wonders of Islam" with my unbelieving father. The guard told us to wait while he made a phone call to some religious authorities. By God, what had I gotten myself into? After a lengthy discussion over the phone and to my utter surprise, the kind and jovial guard welcomed us all into the complex, handing each of us a little cup of water from the sacred spring of Zamzam in Mecca. I discreetly sipped the water, secretly hoping that Allah would not punish me with stomach trouble for slightly bending the truth. Having cleared the gate, our eyes were met with a truly magnificent sight, an inner courtyard decorated entirely in marble with innumerous slender and elegant minarets towering above an enormous edifice of multi-arched facades. Tens of thousands of pilgrims strolled through the courtyard beneath endless rows of giant automated retractable parasols that blended harmoniously with the rich geometric architecture. At one end of the mosque, a towering emerald green dome soared above devotees, beneath which lay the grave of Muhammad, the founder of Islam in 632 AD, along with the first two caliphs, Abu Bakr and Omar Ibn Al-Khattab. The whole scene felt larger than life, a serenity and beauty we tried to discreetly photograph while thousands of pilgrims in various styles of traditional regional attire from all over the world made their rounds of the vast complex. Halfway across the courtyard, that sense of peace was broken when a plain-clothes religious police officer stopped us and demanded to know the reasons for our presence. The unexpected public interrogation led to our passports and visa papers being confiscated and photographed, along with persistent skepticism about our religious affiliation. It had been quite a while since I felt this genuinely terrified, but I concealed my emotions and stuck to my fabrication, hoping my Arabic and knowledge of Islam would help corroborate this persona of a humble albeit ignorant pilgrim. Explaining having been granted permission at the gate, as well as profusely apologizing for photographing the site (a rule that was never made clear anywhere, even in light of other pilgrims filming on their mobile phones), the officer eventually released us with a very stern warning. Nevertheless, the photographing of our passports continued to haunt us with paranoia and conspiracy theories. After all, Saudi Arabia is still a nation of capital punishment, usually by beheading. Would we be arrested upon leaving the city, possibly deported or worse, detained? We quickly left the complex and continued to explore the rest of the Haram area while keeping a low profile.
The Prophet's Mosque (Masjid Nabawy), second holiest site after Mecca
Resting place of Islam's final prophet, Muhammed, under the green dome
The areas around the Masjid Nabawy were built up with flashy hotels and endless shop fronts offering pilgrims the latest trends in religious wear and accessories. Yet to the eastern end was a large enclosed sand lot, a hauntingly quiet place filled with seemingly thousands of unmarked grave mounds. The Al Baqi Cemetery dated back to the time of Muhammad in the mid 7th century, with many of the graves belonging to his friends and family, as well as other leaders of early Islam. It was a quiet and somber place, the complete opposite of the bustle near the mosque. Old veiled Shia women could be seen sitting before stone carved jali screens facing the cemetery, quietly muttering prayers in the warm dusk breeze. We crossed many massive thoroughfares and dangerous ring road on-ramps encircling the Haram area, returning to one of the large pedestrian roads leading to the main mosque gate just as the evening call to prayer began to echo off the surrounding skyscrapers. In light of our nerve-wracking afternoon, we decided to inconspicuously view the beautiful prayer session through the fence, observing tens of thousands of pilgrims in the mosque and courtyard kneel and bow in near perfect unison to the thundering exclamation of "Allahu Akbar" ("God is most great"). Having finished our own little pilgrimage, we departed the holy city the next morning after quietly celebrating Mother's Day with some of the city's famous date-filled ma'amoul cookies and tea in the Le Meridien. Driving by Masjid Quba, the oldest mosque in the world, we bid farewell to the madness of Madinah.
The Al Baqi cemetery hosts graves of the prophet's family, friends, and earliest Islamic leaders
Following pilgrims and the evening call to prayer
The mosque is the second largest in the world, accommodating over a million people
The world's first mosque, Masjid Quba, founded by Muhammed in 622 AD
The Journey to Riyadh: Seat of the Saud Family
In one of the hottest, driest, and most desolate places on earth, Riyadh rose from the sands like a glowing phoenix from the ashes. Lights, colors, and structures of novel shape and form spread out over a city that seemed to stretch into the horizon. The beauty of Saudi Arabia's capital lay in its stunning larger-than-life architecture, with no two edifices the same and every building having its own unique theme. Reminiscent of a massive Middle Eastern "Las Vegas", the capital differed from our own flashy Nevadan oasis in that the constructions appeared expensive rather than cheap, classy rather than tacky, and epic rather than provincial. Glamorous skyscrapers of innovative styles and enormous heights lined along busy King Fahd Boulevard, the tallest and most iconic being the bottle-opener shaped Kingdom Tower shooting out of the luxury designer brand Kingdom Center shopping mall. For nearly all of the Arabian Gulf nations, where both day and night temperatures can be excruciating, spending copious quantities of time in air conditioned mega malls has developed into a quintessential Arab cultural pastime. With oil wealth came exceptional spending power, as droves of fully veiled women could be seen making their daily rounds to Gucci, Prada, Versace, and any number of elegant cafes and patisseries. Our hotel was situated in Al-Olaya, a district predominantly defined by endless stores dedicated to interior design, furniture, and kitchen-bathroom remodeling for the majestic walled mansion compounds of Riyadh's upper echelons.
From the base of Riyadh's iconic Kingdom Tower
We spent the afternoon visiting the oldest part of Riyadh, the district of Deera, known for its small yet highly significant Masmak Fortress. A jewel of traditional Saudi desert architecture, the Alamo-like mud brick structure with its bulbous towers was stormed by Emir Abdulaziz and regained from a rival Bedouin ruling dynasty, marking the dawn of the nation's unification at the start of the 20th century. Its interior contained rooms with elaborately carved doors, colorful carpeted Majlis floor seating, and shelves of antique brass coffee pots. Much of the fortress museum contained vintage weaponry and historical photos of a time when Riyadh was merely an oasis town seemingly perched on the edge of the world. Around the corner from the fortress, among imposing modern government buildings constructed in the traditional style, was a vast stone paved square, Al-Safaa, known derisively in the West as "Chop-Chop Square". To this day, the Saudi government continues the Shari'a practice of capital punishment by public beheading, often done unannounced in the square where large drain holes in the ground help to prevent the pooling of blood. Additionally baffling, cafes and shops surrounded the sinister square, as if one could easily sip coffee while catching the execution of the week. The thought of such inhumanity tarnished the otherwise aesthetic space before me, and we chose not to spend long in the heavily policed area, strolling a few blocks south to the Souq Al-Zel for local bazaar shopping.
The Masmak Fortress, site where the current Saudi state began at the start of the 20th century
Masmak door detail
Al Safaa Square, known as "Chop Chop" square, where public beheadings still commence
Saudi sandal merchant in Souq Al-Zel
Antiques and vintage wares in the souq
Handwoven Bedouin carpets and tent accessories
Our second day in Riyadh had a rough start as a result of the typical Saudi misinformation we'd already experienced many times before. Driving out to the suburb of Diriya to view the old historical quarter that served as home to the Saud family since the 15th century, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a massive town-sized construction site filled with South Asian laborers toiling away in the 38°C (100°F) heat, restoring old buildings, constructing new traditional style facilities, and putting in extensive landscaping. Oddly, the multiple guards at various entrances to the work zones were each unusually jovial, welcoming us to casually walk through the hard-hat only sites in an attempt to get closer to the historical ruins. Nevertheless, we weren't allowed to enter the walled-off old city without a special permit from the antiquities authority, although we were graciously given chilled bottled waters and allowed to view the elegant future shopping, dining, and entertaining areas - one of the Crown Prince's many Vision 2030 projects alongside restoring the crumbling ruins. From Diriya, we made our way across town to the National Museum, a collection of likely the most elaborate and extraordinarily arranged exhibits I've ever seen, to take in the wonders of 10 thousand years of Arabian history that had remained largely concealed prior to the nation's "grand opening". In a large park beside the mud brick Murabba Palace, still used for receiving foreign heads of state, the museum and its amazing interior reconstructions was the best place to get out of the afternoon 45°C (113°F) heat. When the temperature had cooled to a more tolerable 32°C (89°F) around 7 PM, we joined the hundreds of locals flooding Souq Taiba to seek out the best bargains on ornate abayas, Arabic sandals, frankincense, and oud perfumes. In many respects, the market's hottest items were as popular now as they were over two-thousand years ago.
Our only glimpse of the ruins at Diriya
A scene from the spectacular National Museum
Late night bargains for abayas, frankincense, and myrrh at Taiba Market
An oud, attar, and bukhoor (incense and fragrances) shop
Saudi Arabia was a key player for millennia in the ancient incense trade
Dining in Riyadh was nothing short of epic in its own right. Somehow, every delicious meal we'd ordered for three in Saudi Arabia had ended up turning into an ensemble fit for six persons. The quantities of rice provided for each individual were often great enough to be comically absurd, with so much left over and wasted as to make even a king feel guilty. One of our most memorable meals was a feast at Gad, a truly local Egyptian restaurant ablaze with coal fires, where the owner took a great liking to my excessive praises of Egypt. He enthusiastically showered upon us juicy grilled lamb chops, mombar sausages, fried eggplant salad, spicy koshari pasta, crispy falafels, and the most refreshing chilled mango juice. A second most memorable meal was a classic Saudi spread at the famed folkloric Najd Village restaurant, with its traditional floor seating upon carpets surrounding a beautiful open courtyard decorated with Bedouin textiles, brass wares, and camel decorations. The "village sofra" was presented to us upon a large reed-woven tray, bowls filled with mugalgal meat stew, gursan braised vegetables, jareesh porridge, cucumber-tomato salad, fried lamb liver, and fresh baked Arabic breads cradling yet another enormous plate of mutton and chicken over mandi rice. Welcomed with a hot cup of traditional Saudi coffee with cardamom and saffron, the meal was truly a cultural and gastronomic highlight in the capital.
An Egyptian feast of lamb chops, falafels, mombar, and more at Gad Restaurant
Welcoming coffee ceremony in the majlis of Najd Village restaurant
A traditional feast of the Najd region
Lamb and chicken mandi, sambusak, jareesh, mugalgal, and freshly baked breads
The Return to Jeddah
Domestic flights in Saudi Arabia are as chaotic and convoluted as bus stations in developing nations. Catching FlyAdeal back to Jeddah, the designated gate changed multiple times before the destination sign disappeared altogether, leaving loads of pilgrims in a state of confusion as indifferent airline staff gave out misinformation. Finally, the correct gate was assigned although, as with everything on a Saudi schedule, the plane was running extremely late. Prior to take off and just after the safety demonstration, a pre-recorded Islamic prayer was recited over the intercom, once again reminding us that religion dominates all aspects of society. Returning to Jeddah strangely felt like coming "home", given how many times we had passed through in only a couple weeks throughout the road trip. From the air, King Fahd's Fountain could be seen shooting the highest stream of water in the world, although apparently only from 5 PM to midnight, much like Saudi work hours. We spent our last days at a slow pace, taking iced lattes on the palm-lined Jeddah Corniche and meandering along the azure coast line of the Red Sea. We happened upon Saudi Arabia's very first aquarium, Fakieh Aquarium, and delighted ourselves with a truly splendid array of multicolored fish and bizarre crustacean species that already attract world class divers to the Red Sea's bountiful reefs in other bordering nations. The monstrous sharks, graceful manta rays, and whimsical sea turtles were actually even less fascinating to me than the smaller, more obscure, and often venomous species in the impressive collection. The Kingdom, with over a thousand miles of Red Sea coastline, has been fervently aiming to make scuba diving and snorkeling, alongside water sports and resorts, a significant part of its future tourism offerings. While most of our time in the country has seemed somewhat void of people, our last night finally drew Saudis out from their hidden air-conditioned lairs. Friday night is the busiest time of the week, as it is the equivalent of our Saturday night and the environment reaches a more tolerable temperature that is perfect for shopping. Not far from the aquarium was the Red Sea Mall, Jeddah's largest and most lively, completely filled with young adults and families with their rambunctious children enjoying western food-court favorites and a purchasing frenzy. Watching young women in colorful abayas and without face veils, independently window-shopping alongside young men, was yet another aspect of the many changes that have already begun to shift the once highly conservative society. Jeddah's metropolitan ambience and liberal attitude made it feel not much different from some of the other major cities of the Middle East and North Africa, at least until the adhan (call to prayer) began to echo through mall shops halfway closing their doors. Nevertheless, the once "mysterious" Saudi Arabia of my imagination began to show gradual signs of familiarity.
Guys at a fried liver street stand
A pier along Jeddah's Corniche
Fishing of the pier in the Red Sea's aquamarine water
Red Sea clown fish
Taking a break from the heat in Saudi Arabia's very first aquarium
Despite the logistical obstacles and cultural challenges, our brief adventure in Saudi Arabia has been anything but mundane. Intriguing and insightful, the novelty of being part of the first history-making wave of foreign globetrotters to explore The Kingdom, even beyond the scope of religious pilgrims or businessmen, is a thrill that continues to captivate my imagination. Though making record strides since opening a few years ago, Saudi Arabia still has a long way to go and much work to finish before being able to comfortably accommodate visitors and successfully become the next great travel destination. It was certainly an experience in itself for being one of only a few countries I've traveled to where we never crossed paths with another Western tourist, much less any foreign tourists in general. The rich potential is already there, the infrastructure is on its way, and proper management has yet to come (inshallah). Yet for what it's worth, seeing a nation still essentially untouched by the hand of mass tourism was a once in a lifetime privilege, a chance to taste a way of life and an enigmatic culture before the next round of reforms. Many would immediately jump to the conclusion that any and all change is the best for Saudis, starting particularly with questions of women's equality and basic human rights. However, progress will only be meaningful and long-lasting if it can be harmonized with Saudi traditions and its strong religious convictions, something that cannot be imposed but must come from the Saudi people themselves. I can only wait to see what The Kingdom will bring next to the world stage.
Kind-hearted members of the Yemeni community
The heat makes you want to lounge
Some video clips from the trip:
The Journeys to Al Ula & Mada'in Saleh and Celebrating Eid in Jeddah
