New country, new mischief. Except this time everything went suspiciously smoothly.
I used up my last Kuwaiti dinars at Burger King like the classy international traveller I am, froze solid in the airport, and then breezed through Riyadh immigration in under ten minutes. A personal best. I almost felt offended. Where was the drama?
The Riyadh Metro is spotless and futuristic, like travelling through a minimalist art installation. And even better, my favourite supermarket was right outside my stop.
Finding the hostel took some effort, but it had a basement swimming pool, so I forgave everything immediately. Riyadh was off to a strong start.
Naturally, I went straight to Al Safat Square, also known as Deera Square. Or, historically, “Chop Chop Square.” It sits in the old part of Riyadh near the Grand Mosque and Souq Al Zal, and this is where public executions used to take place. These days, no more public spectacles. The square has had a full facelift: neat plaza, fountains, palm trees, shiny tiles. The old execution platform is gone. No plaque. No sign. No acknowledgement. You’d never know unless someone told you. The only hints are subtle: older men sitting quietly in the evenings, a slightly formal atmosphere, locals who politely sidestep the topic. I stood there thinking, well, I’m basically in one of the most infamous squares in Saudi history, they’ve just given it a PR makeover.
I assume executions still happen. Just somewhere more hidden.
Next up was Diriyah, birthplace of the first Saudi state in the 1700s when the Al Saud family teamed up with a fiery cleric and decided to unite the tribes. The UNESCO site of At-Turaif still whispers history through its mud-brick palaces and winding alleys. But step outside and suddenly you’re at Bujairi Terrace, where heritage meets valet parking and expensive lattes. It’s beautifully restored. Immaculate. Perfect.
Too perfect. Their history is now wrapped in high-end packaging. They want to demolish the old and make everything shiny and new. I appreciate the history. I do not appreciate the concept.
Then I flew to AlUla. Two hours late. No public transport. Careem drivers scarce. But the moment I arrived? Giant red rock formations everywhere. Hyatt is being built nearby, but honestly, these rocks do not need a five-star hotel to impress. This place is Petra meets the Grand Canyon, and I hadn’t even seen anything yet. I was already in love. The next morning I visited Hegra, Saudi Arabia’s first UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Nabataeans carved monumental tombs straight into the cliffs over 2,000 years ago. The most dramatic was the massive, unfinished Tomb of Lihyan, son of Kuza. It’s haunting and beautiful and gloriously mysterious. Just as I was quietly absorbing ancient wonder, about twenty schoolboys descended on me mid treasure hunt. They chattered in Arabic. Waved clue sheets. I spent the morning being followed from tomb to tomb like the Pied Piper of Hegra. Absolute chaos. Completely brilliant.
Petra’s long-lost twin, but with better lighting and fewer tourists. I loved it.
In the afternoon I went to Elephant Rock.
It is, as advertised, a giant rock shaped like an elephant. Naturally formed by wind and sand over millions of years. Mother Nature’s sculpture garden. I arrived early to beat the crowds. This meant an hour of questionable selfies, unnecessary videos, and me trying to look mysterious while squinting aggressively into the sun. At sunset the rock glowed gold and the desert went silent. Worth every awkward pose. Yes, it’s still a rock. Yes, I took 173 photos. No, I’m not sorry.
I signed up for a walking tour of AlUla Old Town. It lasted about 30 minutes. Blink and you missed it. So I made my own extended edition. I wandered through reconstructed mud houses, climbed up to the old fort, then accidentally ended up on a closed road reserved for rich tourist shuttle buses. Apparently, walking is beneath people paying £500 a night for reconstructed mud chic. I camped at the visitor centre with their WiFi pretending to be productive while staff checked on me every ten minutes.
Then, in a moment of pure genius, I decided a midday walk on the Oasis Heritage Trail would be refreshing. It was not. No breeze. Just me slowly cooking among palm groves and date farms. The trail is beautifully curated, very mud-chic. The dates in Saudi genuinely taste better, by the way. Naturally, I wandered off the path. Ten minutes later I was slightly lost, mildly delirious, and being side-eyed by a cat. That cat, I swear, led me back to the trail. I rewarded myself with a Dunkin’ Donut and collapsed next to the outdoor air-conditioning at the visitor centre, downing water and questioning my choices. Walking at noon in the desert was, objectively, fucking dumb.
Evenings were better. Shops opened after 4pm, though open is generous. Many were shut or charging desert chic prices. A kebab cost 21 riyals there, but near my apartment it was 9 riyals and twice the size. Another donut was consumed. No regrets. Except the heatstroke. Alula was over. Every morning began with my furry fan club demanding cuddles and food before granting me permission to leave. Saying goodbye to the AlUla cats was harder than expected.
Back in Riyadh, I upgraded from hostel to what can only be described as “sketchy but cheap” accommodation in Al Batha.
Locals call it busy and crowded. I call it intense. Men from Pakistan and Bangladesh loitering around selling knock-offs and random goods. Chickens being slaughtered on the pavement. Beggars. A smell that punches you in the face.
Riyadh is polished and pristine. Al Batha is where the workers live. And honestly it was way more interesting than my shiny hostel.
Check-in was conducted entirely in Bengali via Google Translate. But the bargain double room was secured. Cheap and cheerful wins again.
I signed up for one of the free tours offered by the Saudi Tourism Ministry. Free dinner included. Obviously I signed up. We visited the auction market and souks near Deera Square. Auction? Men only. Souks? Men only. Where exactly are the women shopping? Still unclear. We visited Al Masmak Palace, then the enormous Al Rajhi Mosque, where I covered up appropriately. Dinner was at Al Nadj Village, traditional chicken and rice, delicious. The only slight downside was having to wear full traditional garb during dinner. Slightly hilarious. Mildly restrictive. They gave me a free bag though. Cultural tour conquered. Free is my favourite price.
My final adventure started with a mildly sketchy Careem ride where the driver brought a friend along for reasons unknown. We met my guide near a Dunkin’ Donuts in the middle of nowhere. Thank God for global chains. We drove to Sadus first, a ghost village of crumbling mud houses where it looks like everyone simply left one day and never returned. Then came the bat cave. And if there’s a hole in the ground, obviously you go down it. It was hotter than hell. Tiny bats flapped around while torchlight hit glittering stones. Weirdly beautiful. Also sweaty beyond reason.
My last day in Saudi did not disappoint. The cliffs are enormous, dramatic, ridiculous. We arrived at sunset. I pretended to be calm while subtly gripping rocks for dear life because heights and I have a complicated relationship. I took roughly one hundred selfies and videos. Possibly more.
After sunset we drove back through the desert in the dark, just sand, vibes, and my guide’s surprisingly excellent playlist. I ended the night with a proper kabsa dinner back in Riyadh. Not a bad way to finish Saudi Arabia
