Inside KAFD Metro Station, designed by Zaha Hadid Architects.
Ten or twenty years ago, the only people I knew who travelled to Saudi Arabia were expatriate teachers. As a teacher myself, I remember being genuinely shocked when a woman I knew accepted a job there. At the time, Saudi Arabia was internationally associated with strict gender segregation, the male guardianship system, and severe restrictions on women’s mobility. Women could not drive and tourist visas barely existed. Solo female travel was essentially off the table.
Fast forward to January 2026 and there I was, boarding a flight to Riyadh alone with plans to spend two weeks travelling independently across Saudi Arabia using as much public transport as possible.
Surprisingly, as a solo female traveller, I found Saudi Arabia easier to navigate independently than several other countries I visited on the same trip.
Under Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Vision 2030 program, Saudi Arabia has undergone a dramatic transformation in recent years. Tourist visas were introduced in 2019, women gained greater freedoms, cinemas and concerts returned, and the Kingdom began investing huge amounts into tourism, infrastructure, sport, and entertainment. Everywhere I travelled, these changes felt visible. During my trip alone, I stumbled across an ultramarathon in AlUla and a music festival in Jeddah complete with a (non-alcoholic) beer sponsor. Saudi Arabia is clearly determined to attract tourists of every variety.
I had quickly realised that Saudi Arabia was much larger and more diverse than I had expected. Ideally, I would have spent longer than two weeks there, but with another fifteen countries still ahead on my trip, I settled for fourteen days and a very ambitious itinerary.
Riyadh: The Future Arrives by Metro
I arrived in Riyadh and took a Bolt taxi to my accommodation, a home exchange stay inside the enormous Ishbilia Residential Compound. My hosts, Lucy and Darren, were British and Australian educators working in Saudi Arabia. Or perhaps I should say immigrants rather than expats to sound slightly less colonial.
From the outside, the compound looked faintly alarming, surrounded by razor wire, security checkpoints and stern 'keep out'signs that made it resemble a detention centre. Inside, however, it felt more like The Truman Show. Perfectly maintained streets, swimming pools, gyms, restaurants and manicured gardens created an oddly self contained suburban bubble where residents barely needed to leave.
From their townhouse, I could walk directly to Riyadh Metro.
Riyadh’s metro system completely stunned me.
I had expected highways, traffic and endless cars. Instead, I found spotless driverless trains, beautifully designed stations and one of the most efficient transport systems I had used anywhere in the world. Even the stations themselves felt like architectural attractions.
The National Museum Station, connecting the blue and green lines, was designed to resemble Saudi Arabia’s mountainous landscapes with blue internal panels representing the sky and concrete outer panels mimicking rocky terrain. Nearby, the bus terminal was designed to evoke a Bedouin tent.
Qasr Al Hokm Station, designed by Norwegian firm Snohetta, featured a giant stainless steel canopy that looked more like contemporary sculpture than transport infrastructure.
Then there was the King Abdullah Financial District Metro Station, designed by Zaha Hadid Architects. I genuinely felt as though I had wandered into an expensive futuristic airport or modern art museum rather than a train station. The flowing white lattice exterior was inspired by desert dunes and wind patterns, while the surrounding financial district featured climate controlled skywalks, futuristic skyscrapers and carefully designed public spaces.
People often say there is nothing to do in Riyadh. I completely disagree.
On my very first metro trip, however, I immediately made a cultural mistake. I saw signs for 'Single' and 'Family' carriages and confidently entered the 'Single' carriage, assuming it referred to solo travellers. Wrong. 'Single' meant single men. Women, even travelling alone, belonged in the 'Family' section.
Lesson learned.
The metro itself also quickly shattered my assumptions about reserved queueing systems. The stations had beautifully organised boarding lanes with signs reminding passengers to allow people to exit first. In practice, the moment the doors opened, groups of women surged inside immediately. If you wanted to disembark, you had to physically push your way out or risk being carried onward to the next station.
Most women wore black abayas and niqabs, while others dressed more loosely with uncovered hair. Saudi Arabia still felt socially conservative, but far more varied and nuanced than the outside world often imagines.
One of my first sightseeing days centred around Riyadh’s National Museum and the nearby Murabba Palace. I was surprised to find contemporary international art exhibitions alongside archaeological artefacts. Outside the Murabba Palace, I spotted vintage cars belonging to King Abdulaziz including a Rolls Royce reportedly gifted by Winston Churchill.
Nearby was Souk Al Zal, one of Riyadh’s oldest traditional markets, packed with narrow alleyways and tiny shops selling carpets, antiques and traditional goods. It felt worlds away from the polished metro stations and futuristic financial district.
Back at the compound that evening, Lucy and Darren casually offered me a drink. In Saudi Arabia.
Apparently, certain non Muslim expatriates are allowed access to alcohol under specific circumstances. Saudi Arabia was proving full of surprises.
Diriyah and the Saudi Sense of Time
The following day I visited Diriyah, the ancestral home of the Saudi royal family and birthplace of the first Saudi state.
Getting there involved taking the metro to the end of the line followed by a Bolt ride. I quickly learned another important Saudi travel lesson. Even outside Ramadan and in the middle of winter, things do not start early here.
I arrived far too early.
The beautifully restored mudbrick architecture, pedestrian laneways and cafes were technically open, but the atmosphere remained strangely quiet until around 5 pm when the entire place suddenly came alive.
Fortunately, I had time for a very expensive lunch before wandering through the restored streets and historical buildings. At one point, a group of men dressed in traditional Saudi clothing emerged to perform singing and dancing, creating one of the most memorable cultural moments of my time in Riyadh.
Saudi Arabia often felt like a country operating on an entirely different clock.
Edge of the World
One day I joined an organised tour to the famous Edge of the World, a dramatic escarpment roughly ninety kilometres outside Riyadh.
The tour company proudly advertised its “fully loaded safe 4WD vehicle unlike unsafe old cars used elsewhere” which sounded oddly specific, but the trip itself was excellent. We drove through desert landscapes, spotted Arabian gazelles and eventually reached towering cliffs overlooking endless desert plains and ancient seabeds.
The views genuinely lived up to the hype.
We also stopped for Saudi snacks and Arabic coffee while watching the sunset over the cliffs. Saudi Arabia was rapidly becoming one of the most visually surprising countries I had visited.
Riyadh After Dark
Riyadh truly transformed at night.
One evening I visited the Kingdom Centre Tower, famous for its sky bridge suspended high above the city. During the day, the tower was impressive enough, but after dark the skyline exploded into colour and giant LED displays illuminated the building itself, often featuring images of the Crown Prince.
The nearby financial district was equally extraordinary. Rather than sterile corporate towers, the area felt carefully designed and strangely beautiful, blending futuristic urban planning with traditional Islamic geometric influences.
By the end of four days, I still felt there was more to explore.
When it came time to leave Riyadh, I caught three connecting metro lines to the airport during rush hour. The entire trip took less than an hour and cost roughly AUD $1.61 using my credit card to tap on and off directly at the gates.
I still cannot understand why so much of the world has failed to implement systems this efficient.
AlUla: Desert Landscapes and Nabataean Tombs
Flying into AlUla was spectacular. Mountains rose dramatically from the desert landscape as my Uber drove from the airport toward town.
My neighbourhood, Al Sukayrat, again remained almost completely quiet until evening. Around 6 pm, however, the streets suddenly filled with people, cafes and families strolling through the area.
I explored AlUla Old Town and the beautiful Oasis Heritage Trail mostly alone during the daytime while everyone else seemed to be visiting Hegra.
Later I discovered there was a free shuttle bus connecting Old Town with my neighbourhood. This was useful because although Uber worked well in AlUla, it could sometimes take a while to secure a ride.
The following day I visited Hegra, Saudi Arabia’s first UNESCO World Heritage Site. Independent wandering is not allowed there, so rather than booking a full tour, I bought a ticket for the hop on hop off bus system.
The tombs carved into sandstone cliffs were astonishing and strongly resembled Petra in Jordan, except with barely any tourists.
At Jabal Ithlib, once a Nabataean place of worship, I wandered among towering rock formations while at Jabal Banat I saw clusters of tombs believed to belong largely to women. The unfinished Tomb of Lihyan stood towering above the desert, frozen mid construction for reasons historians still debate.
Eventually, after a long wait, I secured an Uber back into town.
That evening I headed to Elephant Rock, one of AlUla’s most famous landmarks. Massive floodlit sandstone formations surrounded outdoor cafes and seating areas. Most visitors drove themselves, but thankfully I managed to secure Ubers for both directions.
My Uber driver and I spent much of the trip communicating through Google Translate. Another driver proudly explained that he had ten siblings because his father had four wives.
Saudi Arabia was certainly never boring.
The Accidental Tour Guide
The next morning, just as I was preparing to leave AlUla, an elderly American couple in their eighties arrived at my hotel looking utterly overwhelmed.
They had no idea how to get around, how Uber worked or where to start exploring. Before long, I had accidentally become their unofficial tour guide.
I took them into Old Town, showed them the best walking routes and helped them learn how to use Uber. Later I introduced them to my favourite falafel shop in Al Sukayrat, where I had previously relied on Google Translate camera mode to decipher the entirely Arabic menu.
The falafel pockets stuffed with vegetables cost around AUD $1.60 each and were delicious.
After dinner, I discovered two beautiful parks hidden behind my hotel, framed by canyon walls and accompanied by a constant ambient soundtrack of calls to prayer echoing across the valley.
Meanwhile, Old Town was filling with signage for an ultramarathon taking place the following day. We even met a Syrian runner preparing for the race.
Saudi Arabia seemed determined to host every conceivable international event.
The Bus to Medina
Instead of flying onward, I decided to take a local bus from AlUla to Medina.
This ended up being the most difficult transport booking of my entire Saudi trip.
The online booking system stubbornly refused to function properly in English. Eventually I resorted to booking by phone while desperately hoping I had selected the correct number of female passengers. At one point, I accidentally appeared to be booking tickets for seven or eight women.
Eventually, success.
On board, men and women were segregated unless travelling together as families. The women occupied the front section while the single men were packed into the back half of the bus.
As a result, we women actually ended up with the better seats.
Unexpectedly, the same Syrian ultramarathon runner I had met in AlUla was also on the bus after deciding not to compete. He became incredibly useful throughout the journey, translating Arabic announcements and explaining what was happening.
The bus stopped only once at a mosque featuring an extremely fly infested squat toilet. I have experienced much worse during my travels.
And that was genuinely the worst thing I encountered in Saudi Arabia.
Medina: Pilgrims and High Speed Rail
Some people incorrectly believe non Muslims are banned from Medina entirely. This is not true. Non Muslims can visit the city itself, though restrictions apply to certain religious sites.
I dressed modestly and wore a scarf while visiting the area around the Prophet’s Mosque. I did not enter the mosque itself, although many Muslim pilgrims could not enter either due to the sheer number of worshippers overflowing into surrounding prayer areas.
To explore the city, I boarded Medina’s hop on hop off sightseeing bus which visited important Islamic historical sites including the Uhud battle site, Quba Mosque and Qiblatain Mosque.
The atmosphere felt entirely different from Riyadh or AlUla. Medina revolved around pilgrimage. Everywhere I looked, groups of pilgrims moved through the city wearing white garments and following guides holding coloured flags.
Later that day I headed to Medina’s sleek train station to board the high speed train to Jeddah.
The contrast with the earlier bus journey could not have been greater.
No squat toilets. No chaotic booking systems. Just spotless stations and modern trains filled with pilgrims heading between Saudi Arabia’s holy cities.
Jeddah: Coral Houses and Contemporary Art
Jeddah immediately felt different again.
Where Riyadh was futuristic and inland, Jeddah felt coastal, historical and outward looking. I stayed in a hotel within walking distance of Al Balad, the UNESCO listed historic district.
Again, very little happened before evening.
During the daytime, many streets remained quiet while museums unpredictably opened and closed. After unsuccessfully finding two museums shut, I stumbled upon the newly opened Red Sea Museum housed inside Bab Al Bunt, a beautifully restored historic building once used as a port entry point for pilgrims arriving by sea.
The museum blended Red Sea history, pilgrimage culture and contemporary art in ways I had not expected.
Al Balad itself was stunning. Historic coral stone merchant houses lined narrow laneways while ornate wooden balconies known as rawasheen projected above the streets. The architecture reflected centuries of Red Sea trade connections linking Arabia with Africa and beyond.
One day I visited the Tariq Abdulhakim Centre, dedicated to one of Saudi Arabia’s most famous musicians and oud players.
A female guide accompanied me through the entire museum and enthusiastically encouraged me to try the instruments myself, including a bizarre futuristic laser instrument. Abdulhakim had toured internationally during the 1980s including performances at the White House. It felt strangely poignant hearing about that era given today’s political climate.
Another day I ventured uptown by bus toward a museum complex located on top of a shopping centre. Eventually I needed to combine the bus ride with an Uber, but it was absolutely worth the effort.
The House of Islamic Arts, located inside Cenomi Jeddah Park Mall, contained over a thousand artefacts presented through beautifully curated modern displays.
Saudi Arabia consistently surprised me with how heavily it was investing not only in tourism infrastructure but also in museums, arts and cultural institutions.
An Unexpected Return to Saudi Arabia
After Jeddah, I flew onward to Eritrea.
But Saudi Arabia was not quite finished with me yet.
Due to tensions and border complications between countries in the Horn of Africa, travelling from Eritrea to Djibouti required an absurd flight routing via Jeddah and Addis Ababa. What should geographically be a short overland journey instead became an international aviation puzzle.
I booked an overnight airport hotel in Jeddah complete with a free shuttle to Terminal 1. With no Saudi currency remaining, I carefully planned every detail to maximise sleep before my early morning flight.
Everything seemed perfect until I entered the terminal and could not find my flight listed anywhere.
I approached a staff member.
“Show me your flight,” he said.
I handed him my booking.
“That’s North Terminal,” he replied. “Different airport.”
Different airport?
My boarding pass clearly stated “Terminal 1 North Terminal” which apparently referred not to a section within Terminal 1 but an entirely separate building somewhere else.
Panic.
I rushed outside and grabbed a taxi, carefully asking beforehand whether he accepted card payments.
“Yes,” he assured me.
Instead, he promptly drove me to an ATM so I could withdraw cash for him. Not what I was expecting but I stayed patient.
By the time I finally reached the correct terminal, I was among the final passengers checking in. The airport was packed with large pilgrimage groups, many seemingly unfamiliar with air travel and were aggressively pushing through queues in every direction.
Eventually I reached immigration where the officer examined my passport.
“How many times have you visited Saudi Arabia?” he asked.
“Actually, this is my second time,” I replied.
He paused.
“Have you drunk camel milk?”
“No,” I admitted, speaking with an upward inflection to show I was interested.
“Well,” he smiled while stamping my passport, “next time you must try some.”
And with that, I boarded my flight to Djibouti carrying unexpectedly warm memories of two fascinating weeks travelling independently through Saudi Arabia.
And still no camel milk.
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