Saudi Arabia, Surprising, Stringent, Sere

 

At a White Elephant Party last December, we spoke to a couple who had just returned from a trip to  The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. 

"How did you like it?" Scott asked.

"We loved it!"

They used a tour company, added that it was hot, but not too hot, and that the desert was beautiful. Walking home that night, we talked about adding Saudi Arabia to our 2025 travel plans. "But let's do it on our own. Let's rent a car and camp in the desert," I said. 

We did our research and found that camping in the desert might, or might not, be allowed. That sounded like OK odds to us. We bought a guidebook for Saudi Arabia from our favorite travel publisher, The Bradt Guide. It was published in 2023, so we hoped it would have the most up-to-date information. Bradt Guides tend to focus more on the culture and history of a place, than on places to sip, dip, and be hip. There would be no sipping in Saudi Arabia anyway, as alcohol is strictly prohibited. Could we survive 23 days without a G&T or a beer at sundown, that was the question.

We bought a one way ticket to Riyadh. 

Our friend Yusuf lives mostly in Lamu, Kenya, but he was in Riyadh at the same time as our visit (see previous post, How Did I Catch the Travel Bug.) It was still Ramadan, so we met Yusuf and his daughter in the late afternoons before Iftar, the Muslim fast-breaking meal, at the cat-frequented, date-palm ringed sunken pool. 

A local guide, Ahmed, drove Scott and me to The Edge of the World, which turns out to be only two and a half hours from Riyadh. The scenery on the way was spectacular, but wow, when we arrived at the 1000 foot high escarpment, I was pretty much blown away. I mean literally, not figuratively. After a short but steep climb, we found it to be extremely windy at the top. I could see why it’s called The Edge of the World because when I stood atop the sheer cliff to look out over the valley, the horizon looked endless. We climbed up to a few more overlooks and sat down on the cliff to take in the view.

Back down at the base, Ahmed set up three chairs for sunset viewing. He asked if we would like to eat something. "No thanks, we'll wait until Iftar, until you eat," I answered. Our sundowners that eve? Cardamom coffee and fresh dates. It was delicious. It was enough.

Leaving Riyadh, we flew to Jeddah and rented a car. I envisioned us getting a Land Rover, but all they had was a KIA Sportage. 

Scott bought my birthday presents at a camping store— tent, chairs, stove, fuel, mats, pot, air compressor, blankets and sheets. My other birthday present was three nights at The Jeddah Ritz. When he returned from the camping store, he was so excited about showing me the tent (it was one of those nifty ones that looks like a hula hoop when stowed in a bag but when you remove it, FOOF! it becomes a tent), that he foofed it right on the king-sized bed in our hotel room. It took him 45 minutes to get the toothpaste back in the tube.

Our last night at the Ritz was my birthday. It was also the official end of Ramadan and the beginning of Eid, the  multi-day festival that marks the end of Ramadan. Boy, were folks in good moods. Families gathered at the sea-side park across from the Ritz and enjoyed a feast together. Then, they took naps and watched football. Not really. But the vibe was very reminiscent of our Thanksgiving. It was very special for us to enjoy Iftar at the Ritz on the eve of Eid. And Mrs. Scott was overly-spoiled by the staff all day long on her birthday.

 

After a visit to the Hyper Panda, a big box grocery store, we were set. We had our vehicle, complete with 4-wheel drive capability for all the camping we would do in the desert, and all the camping equipment we would need for all the camping we would do in the desert. 

We drove north along the Red Sea from Jeddah, a city with one of the best preserved historic old towns in the world, and we stopped at hotels near the water each night; Yanbu, Umluj, Al Wajh were three of the cities we stayed. We gassed up whenever we came to a station, as distance between towns were big, and the KIA gas tank was small. Each evening we walked to the shore to watch sunset in my brand new camp chairs.

We'd read that it is not permitted to bush camp near the sea so our night under the stars would have to wait until the desert. Our chance would come the night we turned inland. 

We were excited to visit Wadi Disah, famous for its narrow valley lined by golden cliffs and ancient Nabataean architectural sites. We hoped to camp there too. But it was not to be. Camping is not permitted inside Wadi Disah any longer. Also, our KIA SUV almost drowned in the first puddle. 

Scott approached the too-deep wadi assertively. A heavy wave of water washed over the hood. He climbed the bank on the opposite side, took a look at the next body of water in the slim valley and said, “This wadi is too deep for this KIA.” No sooner had we pulled over before Abdullah, a Wadi Disah guide, appeared. Scott was instantly keen to support the local economy and hire Abdullah to take us through the valley. I was enchanted by Abdullah’s 50 year-old Toyota Land Cruiser. Ndoto, too, would have fallen in love with the non-working dash board, and the sometimes working brakes on the old Land Cruiser. Abdullah didn’t speak much English (except for, “Your car, no good” while crossing his forearms in a big X), but we both had Google Translate up in no time. Abdullah let me sit up front, so I could pretend to be the navigator, like I am in Ndoto in Africa. 

The Land Cruiser cut through the deep wadis like buttah.  When the path narrowed from slim to skinny, tall grasses whipped the air and cut our faces. Only once though. After that, it was heads down, full speed ahead.

After a while, we stopped for a break. Scott took out his phone and showed Abdullah a photo of Ndoto, our 50 year-old vehicle that we keep in Africa. “Ah,” Abdullah said with respect. “Land Rrrover. Very strong!” Scott beamed with pride. 

Many times during the trip, I yearned for Ndoto and her ultra comfy bed in our rooftop tent.

We had such a wonderful time with Abdullah and Google translate, at the end of our tour, I asked Abdullah, I mean Google Translate asked, “Is there anywhere nearby where we could camp in the wild tonight?” Abdullah typed. Here’s what Google translated.

We followed the directions exactly and found the most beautiful place to set up our camp, though we weren’t positives it was the spot Abdullah intended. We had the company of un-seen critters, a spectacular sunset, and peace. I made Saudi Salad for dinner and we had coffee and rusks for breakfast. 

I can sleep anywhere, except on an air mattress, so halfway through the night, I gave Scott my side of the mattress, which he doubled over and slept lumpily, and I slept on a blanket the tent floor. I always prefer a firm mattress anyway.

In the morning, shortly after we drove out over the sand to the road, a man in a pick up truck coming the other way waved us down with urgency. “Your front plate is missing! Very big fine!” 

Sure enough, the plate was gone. “It must have popped off in that first wadi we powered through. Or maybe someone pinched it,” I said.  We learned later that license plate theft is not uncommon.

We found out later that morning how serious the offense was when we were pulled over, twice, by Saudi police. Google Translate to the rescue. We were ordered to proceed to Tabuk, immediately. Ha! It was our destination for the day anyway. We wanted to see a museum there. Instead we had to go to the Police Station, or better yet, in our minds, to the Budget rent a car counter at the Tabuk airport, to get a replacement license or another vehicle. We still had lots of Saudi Arabia to see. 

Even though we bought comprehensive insurance for the vehicle, Budget insisted we pay for a new license. Scott held his head in his hands as if he was trying to keep his brains from pouring out. 

“So, if the entire vehicle is stolen, I’m covered. But if a piece of the car goes missing, I’m not?” Scott asked calmly, but with a crazed smile. 

“Yes, that is the policy.”

Saudi Arabia is Big Brother-ish. There are cameras on the roads and highways, even highways in the desert, taking photos of cars and drivers. It’s an offense punishable by fine or jail, or both, if you have a missing front license plate. 

“So, we have to pay for a new license?”

“Yes. It is policy.” 

I, a woman, in Saudi Arabia, chimed in. “I protest.” 

“That is your right,” Another Abdullah said. 

“Okay, well, we still have a week left on our car rental contract, so, if we can no longer drive this car, we’ll need to exchange it for another 4-wheel drive.” 

“We don’t have any 4-wheel drive available.”

Scott grabbed his head.

Ahmed, a nice young man at the next rental desk ‘LUMI CAR RENTAL’ said, “I have 4-wheel drive.” So we rented one from him. But we had to settle up with Budget first. “Okay, Mr Scott, you owe the fine, plus two other traffic violations for not having a plate, so the total is…” A lot! 

“We protest!”

We left, saying we would settle up with Budget in the final city of Medinah. Hurumph. 

We drove off in the LUMI Prado and did not enjoy driving in traffic in Tabuk or Medinah. Plus, we had a record. I’ll tell you later about the Budget experience in Medinah, but I started to worry we would not be let out of the country. Good thing we used to have enough money. 

Time to pivot. We booked a hotel in Tabuk. We were looking forward to visiting the Hijaz Railroad Museum in the morning. 

The Hijaz Railway was built by the Ottomans in 1900 as a means to connect Hajj Pilgrims from Damascus to Mecca. We would be following the now defunct railway all the way from Tabuk to Medina, and we hoped to find the train that was derailed by T.E. Lawrence during WWI along the way. 

"Oh shoot. Scott, The Railway Museum web site says it opens at 12:30 tomorrow, and Google says it opens at 1pm.” The museum was one of our 'must sees' in Saudi Arabia, so we agreed to delay our drive to Al Ula until 2:30 the next day and visit the museum when it opened. The Bradt Guide warned about trusting posted opening hours, but we were hopeful. The next morning, we drove to the museum at 12:30. Good sign; the door was unlocked. But a man quickly approached and said, "Closed today." 

"Couldn't we have a short visit, please?" I pleaded. "Your web site says you are open."

"No. Closed today." Scott held his brains in again.

The good news is, during our 5-hour drive through the desert from Tabuk to Al Ula, we found the train that was ambushed and blown up by T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) over 100 years ago. We almost gave up because it was nowhere near the Google Maps dot. All along the desolate drive from Tabuk, we followed the former route of the Hijaz Railway. The tracks are long gone, but a raised embankment and some bridges appeared and disappeared throughout the day. But at the spot where Google Maps had us leaving the road, the ghost of the train track completely disappeared. We drove on. After ten miles I said, "Let's try over that hill," though it didn't look at all like train track territory. Five minutes later we spied the train sitting on its side, truly in the middle of nowhere. Victory! But there was a chain link fence surrounding it. The few train and history enthusiasts who visited the site in the past used to be able to walk right up to the overturned train. Now, access was denied. “I protest!”There were no signs of recent visitors; no tire tracks, no footprints. No signs of life except for camel prints. 

Stock photo

We wanted to get a photo from the other side, where we could see the train's smoke stack so, don't tell on us, but... Scott tried to lift the chain link gate off its guide. But it was stuck. 

It was 103 degrees in the midday sun. Though not a mad dog, nor an Englishman, I was determined to wriggle under the fence. Channeling The Great Escape, I started digging sand out from under the gate. But the sand was fine; like quick sand. It kept falling in quicker than I could scoop. The gate had a bit of sway to it, so I laid down and instructed Scott to push the gate away from me until I got half way under, then pull it over my body so I could slither the rest of the way under. 

He just stood there. "Tris, your face is bright red already. You're going to die doing that in this heat." He refused to assist, so I settled for snapping photos from under the fence. Then he took a video of me trying to stand up. By George, it jolly well was hot out there! Woof!

We drove back out the way we came. I noticed donkeys. Scott noticed the 125 year-old Hijaz Railway bridge, still fully intact. So cool! The bridge was nice too. Scott walked it while I communed with donkeys.

We finished our drive to Al Ula, passing flirty and floppy-lipped camels along the way. 

Al Ula is the icing on the Saudi Arabian cake. It has the ancient Nabataean city of Hegra. There is a massive mirrored cube in the stunningly beautiful Ashar Valley. And best of all, there’s an elephant-shaped rock. And there were Land Rovers!

Two Scotts are twice as nice.

In Medina, the final stop on our self-drive trip through Saudi Arabia, instead of trying to navigate the chaotic traffic, we opted for a Hop On Hop Off bus to see the few sights we, as non-Muslims, would be permitted to see. (Saudis are notoriously bad drivers and since no one in Saudi Arabia walks outside, the amount of vehicles on the road is insane.) We took an UBER  (very reliable in Saudi Arabia) to the Hop On stop nearest our hotel. It was near a mosque. We couldn't go in, so we sat down on a bench to wait for the bus. The longest wait between stops, according to the web site, would be maximum 30 minutes.  We arrived at the stop at quarter past the hour and, cutting slack, waited over an hour. 

If you know me, you know I can't take the heat. It was 104 degrees Fahrenheit that day. Plus, I was dressed appropriately for Saudi Arabia, in long pants, closed shoes, shirt covering my neck and arms, and a scarf covering my hair. I turned pink, then red, then dangerously clammy. A Turkish couple sat beside me, also waiting for the bus. The wife stared at my pink face and tried to give me her water. "Too hot," she said with concern. She gave us dates. We gave them peppermints. We waited. "Tris, you are not looking so good," Scott said. "Let's catch an UBER back to the hotel." Just then, an Arabic fellow, now living in Canada, approached. He also had a ticket for the Hop On (or Hope To Hop On). He told us that according to his ticket, which was written in Arabic, the drivers take a break between 1pm and 4pm, so would not return to this stop for 3 hours. I’d lost count of how many times Scott had to hold his brains in. He grabbed his head with both hands, then opened the app for UBER. 

The tourist industry, the way one might think of it in Europe or Asia, hasn't arrived yet in most of The Kingdom. Tourism in Saudi Arabia is mostly centered on Pilgrimages to Mecca and Medina, not that we would be able to travel to those sites anyway. Haram (forbidden) areas which surround Mecca (88 acres) and Medina, have police stationed at border posts, to insure that non-believers do not enter. Even the busy freeways have ring roads and directional signs; NON-MUSLIMS NOT ALLOWED TO ENTER in Arabic and English so that one won't make a wrong turn. 

But if NEOM (neo--new and Mustaqbal the Arabic word for future (or, some say, the first initial of Mohammad bin Salman, the Prince who launched the project), and the vision for Saudi Arabia 2030 (establishment of Saudi Arabia as a Global Leader) come to fruition, Tourism is coming to Saudi Arabia, Big Time. If completed, NEOM will be a 10,000 square mile planned city on the Red Sea, complete with tourist resorts, flying cars, and robot maids. To-date it is enormously over budget and behind schedule. Not enough construction workers is part of the problem, though as we drove along the Red Sea north towards Jordon, there were what seemed to be vast, multi-story, newly-built foreign worker compounds. We met foreign workers from India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Uganda, Nigeria, Kashmir, Indonesia.... Everywhere we went in Saudi Arabia we encountered foreign workers, predominantly men, doing every job imaginable; hospitality, such as waiter or housekeeper, also agriculture, security, manager, shop keeper, even ice cream scooper at Baskin Robbins. 

The foreign workers seem to do everything, except maybe front desk Reception and drive for UBER. Ever see the film, A Day without a Mexican? I think Saudi Arabia would completely collapse without its foreign workers.

NEOM, if it happens, will be for rich resort/golf types, so not the kind of tourism, for the most part, that brings income to local communities or mom and pops. 

What you don't see today are useful things for travelers such as Tourist Information Centers, maps, reliable opening hours of museums and other sites independent travelers would want to see. We asked everywhere we went for a paper map of Saudi Arabia and Saudi cities. There weren't any.

We spent 23 days in Saudi Arabia. The heat forced us out. We camped in the desert one night, but it was the most beautiful night. We gave all our camping gear to the receptionist at the last hotel we stayed in Medina. She was thrilled. We drank Cardamom coffee, the best coffee in the world on the Edge of the World, and we ate more dates in 4 weeks than in our entire lives. 

I had many opportunities to speak with Saudi women dressed in abaya and left with many sisterly hugs. I met a French-Spanish-Arabic-speaking Algerian man, Mohammed, who was in Jeddah for business and pilgrimage. We conversed in French and Spanish (sometimes in the same sentence.) The concierge at the Ritz, whose English was excellent, filled in the gaps for Mohammed in Arabic. Mohammed asked me if I was Muslim. “Non,” I answered in French. “But I respect devout people and am interested in the history of religions.” He responded “Moi aussi,” Me too. Then he shook my hand and told me I had a pure heart. 🥴 I left him with something a young man in the passenger seat of a delivery truck in Uganda passed on to Scott and me while we were stuck in a Kampala traffic jam with our windows down, “It is friends that build the world.” 

Despite the challenges, I am thoroughly enchanted by Saudi Arabia, especially the desert. I liked— no loved— being there before rampant tourism. The hospitality was exceptional. It is a place like no other.

Scott’s head hurt. 

We saw Abdullah again. He was so pleased we found a camp in the wild. So were we!