39 minute read
Diriyah
Heart of a Nation
One of the biggest projects transforming Saudi Arabia is the restoration of Diriyah, birthplace of the Kingdom. As it opens permanently to visitors for the first time, we discover a historic wonder that manages to also capture a new era
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Words Lyn Hughes & Juliet Rix
Diriyah: The city of earth
A series of huge projects are changing the face of Saudi Arabia, but none is more symbolic than the restoration of its old capital, finds Lyn Hughes
any people don’t know Saudi food,” explained “MHadeel Al Mutawa, the female founder of Takya restaurant, as eight of us sat around a table in relaxed camaraderie sharing the first wave of dishes she had sent out. A salad of fig, mandarin and pomegranate arrived, followed by citrus-infused chickpeas with beetroot, and light dumplings stuffed with pumpkin. It was traditional food but made with a contemporary twist and taken to fine-dining levels. It’s no surprise that Takya was one of the first restaurants offered a prestigious spot in a new high-profile development overlooking the UNESCO World Heritage site of At-Turaif. Hadeel had more than earned her place at its table. Just as enjoyable as the mouthwatering cuisine was the wide-ranging conversation swirling around it. My Saudi companions were all connected in some way with At-Turaif and Diriyah – a project launched to restore what was the birthplace of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, capital of the First Saudi State and original home of the Al Saud family, opening it back up to the public. It was the reason for my visit. But what also struck me was how we were all men and women dining together in Saudi Arabia, the conversation both rich and stimulating.
If you haven’t heard, there’s change afoot in Saudi. His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Mohammed Bin Salman Al Saud is on a mission to transform the kingdom’s economy with his Vision 2030 masterplan, fuelled partly by opening the country up to tourism. And with two-thirds of the population under the age of 35, the social transformations it has triggered are being embraced by a new generation, at least in the main centres.
Since 2019 there have been radical changes here. Men and women are no longer segregated in restaurants. There are targets to get more women into employment – and they can now drive. Cinemas have even opened and the arts are now being encouraged. It was my first visit to Saudi, and in truth, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the tone was set upon arriving at Riyadh’s airport, where the immigration official was an efficient but friendly woman, who promptly told me to enjoy my stay.
Just as fascinating is how the country is reshaping itself physically. Several giga-projects are being planned as part of this transformation, and tourism is driving many of them. NEOM,
A sunny future
(top) The buildings of At-Turaif are a mix of original and restored sections, but care is being taken across much of the Diriyah development to build in a way that doesn’t clash with the original city – even its luxury hotels will have mud-brick façades
a futuristic megacity, has been making headlines, as has a huge project on the Red Sea that includes a luxury tourism destination, AMAALA, which is due to open in 2027. But one of the first, and arguably most important, developments is Diriyah.
This project cuts to the heart of the nation and its Saudi identity. Once a nondescript town on the outskirts of Riyadh, Diriyah is home to the UNESCO World Heritage site of At-Turaif. It was inscribed in 2010, yet its mud-built palace, monuments and mosques had been little visited or appreciated, even by Saudis.
The plans for Diriyah’s redevelopment are far-reaching but also mindful of the area’s past. A large section will be pedestrianised; cars will be banished underground, with parking going three levels deep. All buildings, including the hotels that are opening, will be built in the Najdi style, with exteriors made of traditional mud bricks. Looking at the plans, it was apparent that much of it will be made on a very human scale, with shaded narrow streets echoing the Arabian cities of old.
The whole project will take years to complete, but the focus for now is on the historic At-Turaif district, which will be fully open to the public this December. It is a living archaeological site where discoveries are still being found, which made me all the keener to visit. Guides have been recruited and trained, and over 60% of them are women. Key buildings have been carefully restored, and walkways, interpretation boards and museums have now been incorporated into the area.
Also opening is Bujairi Terrace, a collection of restaurants overlooking At-Turaif that will offer a range of top-level dining options from around the world, as well as esteemed local brands such as Hadeel Al Mutawa’s Takya.
The speed of change here is dizzying, and both the Diriyah project and the wider social reforms are no less momentous in person. I asked Muhannad Shono, an artist who had been living overseas before returning home, whether he had concerns about any future backlash against the social changes.
“The difference would be that now people have tasted a different way, it wouldn’t be easy to change that,” he told me.
As I sat amid the historic walls of At-Turaif at dusk, watching a ‘Sound & Light Show’ projected onto its mud bricks, I imagined Diriyah in its heyday. And then I thought of its resurgence today and of the wider and far-reaching developments going on all around it. I was glad that I’d had the chance to visit the country at this extraordinary point in time. ⊲
Food for the body and the mind (this page; clockwise from top left) Takya takes traditional Saudi Arabian dishes from regions across the kingdom and updates and modernises them for a fine-dining audience; a palm tree – one of many being replanted around Diriyah – casts a shadow against the historic mud-brick walls of the At-Turaif district; an old copy of the Qur’an that can be seen in the Diriyah Museum, one of five new cultural institutions opening in At-Turaif; before the recent reforms, it was more difficult to be an artist and there was little support – as a sign of the changing times, the Ministry of Culture is now subsidising studios in Diriyah’s new JAX Art District
At-Turaif: An origin story
The first inklings of the modern Saudi state can be traced back to Diriyah’s At-Turaif district, where its secrets are still being revealed, writes Juliet Rix
he sun glowed a golden colour against the mud-brick
Twalls as pigeons peeped from triangular vents (known as najdi luhuj) typical of the traditional architecture of Najd, the desert region that includes the Saudi capital Riyadh and the neighbouring area of Diriyah. It was in the latter that we now stood. This city holds a special place in Saudi history as the tribal home of the House of Al Saud, yet even most Saudis (let alone the rest of us) have never heard of Diriyah, much less visited – until now.
Just 15 minutes’ drive from the centre of Riyadh, a huge stone billboard proclaimed: ‘Welcome to Diriyah’. Beyond it spread a vast expanse of dusty, rocky desert dotted with life-sized Tonka-toy diggers and cranes, and brand-new buildings that had been made in a traditional style. Eventually, we reached the UNESCO World Heritage site of At-Turaif district, the excavated, restored and reconstructed 18th-century enclave of the House of Al Saud, tucked into a fertile elbow of Wadi Hanifah.
At-Turaif is now at the centre of the Diriyah ‘giga-project’, part of His Royal Highness Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman Al Saud’s ambitious Vision 2030 programme to diversify the economy away from oil and towards tourism. Diriyah is intended, within eight years, to attract upwards of 27 million visitors annually, around a third of them foreign. To put that in context, London received a record 21.7 million foreign tourists in 2019.
The focus on Diriyah began as a passion project of King Salman, who was instrumental in restoring At-Turaif and gaining it World Heritage status in 2010. The journey has been a process of “rediscovering Saudi’s cultural heritage,” explained Adam Wilkinson of the Diriyah Gate Development Authority (DGDA), and for the first time in its modern history it is opening up to foreign visitors.
The ancestors of today’s Saudi royal family first arrived in Diriyah in the 15th century. According to Saudi chroniclers, Mani Al Muraydi (said to be the thirteenth great grandfather of the present king) was invited to this palm-stippled oasis by Ibn Dir (after whom Diriyah was named), then the ruler of a cluster of desert villages that were destined to become the modern metropolis of Riyadh. However, not much changed in the decades after Mani Al Muraydi’s arrival. Even by the start of the 18th century, Diriyah was far from the grand royal centre that it would become.
It wasn’t until the 1720s, following the emergence of a new imam of Diriyah, Muhammad bin Saud Al Muqrin (also known as Ibn Saud), that the conception of the Saudi state began. The birth of the nation of Saudi Arabia took a little longer, and was not without its labour pains, but it all began here in Diriyah, which rapidly expanded – as did the territory controlled by the House of Al Saud – to become the first Saudi capital.
As I stood in front of the tall, textured mud-brick walls of At-Turaif ’s Salwa Palace, built by the second Al Saud ruler, I looked all around me. Across a modern bridge over a small green-fringed valley stood an immaculate mud façade striped with fresh white columns. It was a recently rebuilt mosque that dated back to the early days of the city, and it was now reopening to worshippers. History was everywhere.
Just behind it were several similar mud-brick buildings, also fronted with white columns. These were not religious structures but four restaurants masterminded by Michelin-starred chefs that were due to open by the beginning of December. They signalled the arrival of the advance guard of the Bujairi Terrace food and entertainment quarter, one of the first areas in the DGDA’s £42bn project that will be open to the public.
What visitors will encounter is a pedestrianised ‘city of earth’, all built in traditional Najdi style on the outside (inside there will be electricity and air conditioning). “It is the only Vision 2030 giga-project anchored in history,” said the DGDA’s Sami Mohamed Amin, “and all of it has been inspired by the At-Turaif World Heritage site.”
The At-Turaif site was also due to open in December, but I had bagged a preview. I entered the citadel and wound my way along a narrow passageway between the walls of the Salwa Palace and the fortifications (which protected the precious water and date palms of the wadi as much as the settlement). This was built not only for status and defence, but as a wonderfully welcome wind tunnel – a form of ancient air-conditioning.
We passed through the columned reception hall and into the majlis – a large council room similar to those still used today for official meetings. The Salwa Palace majlis is 18m long and three storeys high, with a balcony and a little ⊲
room off it that invited my curiosity. “This was the imam’s room for private chats with visitors,” explained our guide, “a powerful place! The decision to surrender in 1818 was probably taken in there.” But we will come to that bombshell later.
Our guide pointed out the sandstone foundations, mud brick walls – up to 1.2m thick – and high windows (“for privacy”). The door lintels were made of tamarisk wood and, as we would see later in a tumbledown house awaiting restoration, would have been attractively painted with geometric and nature-inspired designs, as would the doors. Seven decorated examples from this period (a rarity since most of the doors from this era have been lost) hang in the Museum of Architecture, which lies nearby.
At-Turaif is not just an historic site, but living archaeology. Government interest in digging up the past is relatively new in Saudi, and fresh material is being constantly uncovered. Excavation, research and restoration will continue in the background even as travellers descend. “There is little written evidence and a lot we don’t know,” Wilkinson reminded me. “Diriyah is still an archaeological work in progress.”
However, the use of the rooms in the Salwa Palace is quite well understood, including the school for the royal children and the private mosque. Here columns lay on the ground, but the mihrab wall, where the early Saudi rulers prayed, was still standing and facing Mecca (known locally as Makkah), Islam’s holiest site, which the Al Saud family seized in 1802 before losing it later to the Ottomans.
A high, solid semi-circular wall marked the palace treasury and the site of Saudi’s first coin production. It wasn’t exactly a mint, our guide admitted. Even in the early 19th century, Saudi had no resources of high value, I was told (oil was not discovered until the late 1930s); instead, foreign coins were franked with a Saudi stamp to create a local currency. A few ‘French Riyal’ coins can be seen in the modern Diriyah Museum, tucked between the mud-brick walls of Salwa Palace. Also there is a family tree beginning with Mani Al Muraydi in Diriyah in 1446 and spreading out to more than 7,000 contemporary Saudi royals.
There are three other modern museums hidden amid At-Turaif ’s mud-brick alleys: these cover Saudi daily life, Arabian horses (see p106) and military history. In the latter you will find flintlock pistols and ceremonial swords, as well as Ottoman armour from an era-defining battle with the Saudis, who, our guide told us pointedly, “had no armour at the time”.
We learned more about this battle as the evening fell, watching the impressive ‘3D’ narrative light show that rolled across the red-gold sunset ‘screen’ of the palace walls. We saw the Saudi defenders of the citadel career across the battlements, swords high, holding out for six months before succumbing to the far greater firepower of the Ottomans.
This all happened in 1818, and it marked the end of the first Saudi state. The Al Saud imam was taken to Constantinople and beheaded, and Diriyah was destroyed and depopulated. That was not, of course, the end of the House of Al Saud. Just a few years later they rose again, this time based in Riyadh where they began the Second Saudi State (1824–91), smaller than the first and excluding Mecca. Intra-family feuding then allowed another tribe to prevail and the Al Sauds retreated into the Empty Quarter, and then to Kuwait.
It took more than a decade before the 21-year-old Abdulaziz Ibn Saud – aged only eight at the time of exile – emerged to lead a daring, against-the-odds attack in 1902 to take back Riyadh’s massive mud-brick Masmak Fort, from where he proclaimed himself the ruler of Riyadh. More than 50 battles later, and with British backing, he established the territory that is today Saudi Arabia (including Mecca). I arrived at the Fort on the eve of Saudi National Day, which commemorates Abdulaziz’s declaration of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (with himself as absolute monarch) on 23 September 1932.
Men, women and children were gathered beneath the still-towering walls and circular turrets. Perched on rocks and railings, they watched a troop of traditional male sword dancers stamp, twirl and brandish their blades to the powerful beat of drums. The kids were decked out in green (an important colour in Islam and part of the Saudi flag). The women, with a few exceptions, wore full-length black abayas and black veils over the bottom half of their faces (I wore ‘modest’ Western clothes, my head uncovered). As we have discovered in the pandemic, though, you can smile with your eyes, and several women stopped to say hello and welcome me.
Masmak Fort is clearly at the heart of the creation story of today’s Saudi Kingdom, but it all began a short drive away, back in Diriyah. Following the fall of At-Turaif in 1818, the area remained deserted for 150 years. Modern settlement began only in the 1970s, but no attention was paid to ‘the ruins’. By 1981, it was still described by the author Robert Lacey (in his book The Kingdom) as ‘a sandblown Pompeii’.
The development of Diriyah is aimed at tourism, but it is also about Saudi identity: telling a patriotic origin story for a young state with a young population – almost half of them under 25. This doesn’t detract from the experience; in fact, quite the reverse. Diriyah, old and new, undoubtedly offers an insight into the history and archaeology of pre-oil Arabia, but it also shows how this nation wishes to project itself today. Taken together, you have a fully sketched portrait of a country. ⊲
A view to the future
The Diriyah project aims to seamlessly restore this historic area to its former glory, but it will take years to complete
Restoration: It’s all about the mud!
Restoring At-Turaif to its former glory requires delving back into history to revive the art of mud-brick making. Juliet Rix lends a hand
esert-beige sludge oozed satisfyingly between my
Dfingers as I kneaded the edges of a giant pile of mud, mixing in straw to bind it and adding a little water to keep it moist, before scooping up huge handfuls and squishing them into the wooden oblong in front of me.
Under instruction from the experts, I smoothed the top of the muddy surface with a block of wood, making sure there were no lumps or gaps. Then slowly, carefully, I lifted the wooden mould, leaving the mud brick sitting satisfyingly fully formed. “Put your palm print and initials on it,” I was told, so I signed my brick and left it in the hot Saudi sun to dry.
Mud bricks have been used for the construction of houses, palaces, forts, indeed every sort of building, for millennia – Jericho was built from mud as early as 9000 BC – and they are still used across the world today. In Saudi Arabia they remained the primary building material well after the discovery of oil began to change the face of the nation in the second half of the 20th century. Even today in Riyadh, better known for its statement steel-and-glass skyscrapers, the capital’s Old Town is still a low-rise maze of mud-brick streets. Things haven’t changed that much.
This kind of construction is now seeing a fascinating resurgence in the first Saudi capital, Diriyah, where a huge government project is both restoring historic mud-brick buildings and aiming to create from scratch what promises to be the biggest mud city in the world.
This new quarter – including shopping streets, restaurants, cafés and multiple international five-star hotels – will have modern utilities inside, but even its Armani and Four Seasons hotels will have traditional exteriors. This new ‘city’ is expected to require a total of 180 million mud bricks! A special factory has been set up to produce them from local Diriyah desert mud, just as they would have been made 300 years ago, when At-Turaif was built, only on a much, much larger scale.
Getting our hands dirty (clockwise from left) Juliet joins the team in making traditional bricks by mixing mud with straw. This is done for stability, then a dash of water is added to make it more pliable before packing the whole thing into a mould so it creates a nice, flat surface; a mix of old and new scatters the Diriyah area, with heritage mud-brick walls – now held up by wooden props – sat alongside new ‘traditional buildings’, such as those found in the Bujairi Terrace eating and entertainment area; an artist always signs their work, and Juliet (JR) is no different – visitors will also get the chance to make their own bricks; (previous spread) an aerial view of Diriyah
The people teaching me the secrets of making mud bricks all came from the Diriyah conservation team. They had constructed a more conventional, human-scale brickyard for the consolidation and restoration of a gaggle of buildings close to the UNESCO World Heritage site of At-Turaif, itself the subject of mud-brick restoration. This was also soon to be the site of ‘Brick Making’ experiences for the visiting public (yes, you too can make grown-up mud pies!).
Led by conservation architect Njoud Alanbari, I wandered between tumbledown mud-brick walls as she pointed out different elements: a sophisticated water system, a fireplace, roof-supporting columns, decorative frames around wall shelves – all of them made from mud bricks. The houses were in a bad way. These bricks are a marvellously sustainable material, but they are also subject to the same erosion as the desert from which they derived. Many of the mud bricks in these abandoned buildings were crumbling – or crumbled.
The fallen bricks that were irreparable were being recycled – ground into dust, mixed into mud and reformed into new bricks for these committed conservators to use in solidifying the various historic structures. The team here were simultaneously researching and restoring the buildings, as well as developing new methods of consolidation, hoping to be able to remove the wooden props currently holding up many of the walls without damaging the existing structures.
Traditionally, beams, lintels and crack repairs were all fashioned from the tamarisk tree. Once plentiful in Wadi Hanifa (and now being planted again), its wood, if cut at the right time, is unusually resistant to termite attack. But now the conservators needed something even stronger and more durable to bind these buildings back together. I was shown an experimental pair of drying mud bricks for which the team guiding me around had particularly high hopes. They were “stitched together” with a thin rod of fibreglass.
The modern material will not be visible, but all restoration is textured so that anything added is (as required by UNESCO) always distinguishable from the original. There was a way to go, but Njoud was energetic and optimistic. She was also hoping to be able to not only restore these historic homes, but to eventually tell the stories of the people who lived in them as well. It would add a welcome human side to what is a remarkable building project.
I wondered if any of my mud bricks, once dry, might make it into one of these buildings. As I drove away across the desert, I enjoyed imagining my hand print helping to hold up a mud-brick wall in historic Diriyah. ⊲
A step back in time
(top) This is a scene that could have taken place centuries ago, as the techniques for making mud-brick walls don’t differ all that much from when the city of Diriyah was first built, even if fibreglass rods have replaced the original tamarisk supports
Arabian horses: Back in the saddle
The launch of a new museum in Diriyah shows how horse culture was integral to life in early Saudi Arabia and beyond, writes Lyn Hughes
Horse sense
(top) The grey mare and her handler circle the arena outside Diriyah’s new Arabian Horse Museum, which delves into equine history across the region, from the use of horses in sport to the role they played in wartime he grey Arabian mare snorted as she trotted around
Tthe small arena within At-Turaif. With her huge intelligent eyes, high tail carriage and aristocratic air, she was a fine example of her breed. She stopped close to where I stood at the fence and willingly let me pat her warm muscular neck. It felt like I had been accepted.
Arabian horses are one of the most charismatic and influential breeds in the world, renowned for their beauty, intelligence, stamina and speed. Globally speaking, many modern horses have Arab blood in their veins, including English thoroughbred racehorses. They are one of the world’s oldest domesticated breeds, with their history going back at least five millennia, and maybe much longer. Sculptures of horses have been found in the Arabian peninsula that are over 9,000 years old.
Arabians horses were integral to the first Saudi state, when Diriyah was a centre for breeding the best of the best. Later, when King Abdulaziz Ibn Saud re-established Saudi rule in 1932, one of his interests was the preservation of thoroughbred Arabian horses, an extension of the history of his ancestors. It is said that he owned around a thousand mares.
So, it was no surprise to me that one of the many museums to open within At-Turaif had been dedicated to horses. Among the exhibits was a life-size model of a beautiful Arabian mare called Turfa, gifted to Britain’s King George VI by King Abdulaziz in 1937 on the occasion of his coronation. There were plans for the young Princess Elizabeth to inherit her, but it was said the mare was too spirited, so she was used for breeding instead.
As well as the museum, it is intended that there will be displays of Arabian horses in or close to At-Turaif. The arena outside the museum was used when I visited, but it is rather small in size, so something more practical may be needed in the longer term. There is also talk of an equestrian centre and of the opportunity for visitors to ride through the wadi.
For now, though, on a balmy evening it was a pleasure to be nuzzled by a beautiful creature in a historic spot where generations of Arabian horses would once have passed.
Art: Creating a scene
Juliet Rix takes a magic-carpet ride through Saudi’s new official art district and discovers a country reconnecting with itself
ittle did I think when I arrived in Saudi Arabia that I
Lwould soon be sat on a magic carpet. The rug in question belonged to the artist Saeed Gamhawi, or at least it was a projection of one that belonged to his mother. It was now emblazoned across the sandpit upon which I sat, and as
I ran my fingers through the grains of sand, the rug flowed with them. Whatever I did, the carpet was always there, his mother’s memory forming and re-forming around me. It was magical.
On arrival, JAX Art District in Diriyah looked like an industrial Empty Quarter – roadways devoid of people and populated only with desert-coloured warehouses and old garages.
In fact, JAX was originally a company that was based here – that’s how it got its name. But like the desert itself, this apparently barren exterior hides corners of creation, in this case the studios of a handful of Saudi Arabia’s leading artists.
Art, for a long time, was a difficult subject here. The nation’s conservatism and limited support made it difficult to be an artist. “I grew up completely scorned,” said Muhannad Shono, who, along with Gamhawi, recently represented Saudi at the
Venice Biennale and was now moving into a large government-subsidised JAX studio. “I drew all the time, but I was told by my teachers to draw a line to cut the head off my characters – literally – because only God can create.”
He spent years abroad, mostly in Australia, and is still both astonished and emotional about his newfound ability to make art in his home country. Things have changed so much, he said: “It’s gone from underground shows to [the government asking] ‘what do you need?’.”
The development of JAX is part of the larger Diriyah project, and a variety of opportunities for travellers to visit are currently being developed. More artists are expected to move in – both Saudi and foreign. “Like the Medicis, we want to bring in artists and give them space to express themselves,” explained Sami Mohamed Amin of the Diriyah Gate Development Authority.
The Medicis were quite prescriptive, however, and I admit I wondered how much freedom these artists had. But the work I saw on the studio walls suggested they had a lot. Even Shono, whose art often addresses censorship, told me: “Of course it could all change again… but I haven’t found a red line yet.”
As I sat there, sieving multi-coloured sand through my fingers, I hoped that Saudi’s commitment to its artists and their art would prove as enduring as Gamhawi’s mother’s carpet. ⊲
Starting from scratch (this page; left to right) The JAX Art District offers something to Saudi Arabia’s artists that generations of young Saudis haven’t experienced before: creative freedom. Not only that, it means financial support for its artists in terms of having a space to both work in and show their creations – and one that travellers to the area may soon be able to see for themselves on curated visits; Juliet Rix takes a ride on a magic carpet, or least a projection of one onto a sandpit by the conceptual Saudi artist Saeed Gamhawi, whose work tends to largely focus on cultural heritage and finding connections to the past
Community: Looking to the future
The Diriyah project is transforming the area, but it’s also bringing locals, sustainability, tradition and visitors together in ways you might not expect, discovers Lyn Hughes
he morning was rapidly heating up as I sought shade
Tunder a tree. I was in a newly opened park adjoining At-Turaif, and its head gardener was motioning me towards some inviting wooden bowers. “Saudis like to be outside, to sit and picnic,” he told me. Despite the heat, a soundtrack of birdsong trilled through the trees but I was a little early to see the crowds. On summer nights the park will be softly lit as people go out to relax and socialise in the relative cool.
Tree planting is very visibly taking place around Riyadh, as part of a huge Green Saudi initiative aimed at restoring nature and fighting climate change. We toured the various trees, plants and grasses of the park as its head gardener explained how the priority was to focus on planting native species, not least because they are drought tolerant and need less irrigation.
All this was in Wadi Hanifah, the fertile valley that bounds Diriyah and runs through Riyadh. Its life-giving waters and rich soils were a major factor in both the former and the current capital being established where they were. In recent years there has been work done to restore the wadi to its former glory, and in Diriyah it is seen as key to its ambitious sustainability plan.
The valley also plays a number of roles. From a leisure and wellbeing point of view, the park was being created there with people in mind as well as the environment. The building of a cycle trail through the wadi is already underway and horse-riding treks of the valley are being planned for the future.
The other big factor is what grows there. Dates have a special place in Saudi culture, having played a vital part in the country’s economy and its people’s nutrition. It’s no coincidence that a date palm features on Saudi’s national emblem. Wadi Hanifah was an historically important home to date farms, which are now being preserved and replanted.
I caught up with a British expat working for the Diriyah Gate Development Authority, Julie Alexander, who is an expert on environmental sustainability. She explained how date palms are particularly effective in the absorption of carbon – more so than other species. A task force has been set up to investigate the wadi.
But it’s not just the landscape where Diriyah is seeking to make environmental gains. In the first phase of its redevelopment, its buildings – restaurants, hotels, shops, housing – are being built out of mud bricks in the traditional Najdi style. These techniques not only mean it blends with the old city’s architecture, but offer some added perks. The thick walls and strategic airflow naturally keep buildings at a comfortable temperature, without the need for air-conditioning. Internal courtyards and narrow streets also help with shade and cooling.
There are other instances of sustainability and cultural heritage crossing over. Small, local independent shops will have their place among the district’s big brands, as will artisans and their crafts. I got a taster at At-Turaif ’s visitor centre, where a calligrapher was at work, while in another building I learned more about Saudi coffee and how it was traditionally served.
But my most memorable Saudi coffee experience was when I visited the home of Noura Um Faisal, a Diriyah resident with a passion for educating people on Saudi traditions. As a teacher, she entertains groups of children, who come to hear about the kingdom’s history and culture. I was led into a room just off her courtyard and discovered a treasure trove crammed with household goods, appliances and bric-à-brac from over the decades. Old sewing machines, cameras, telephones and costumes filled shelves and cabinets.
We went through to a large sitting room very much in the style of a traditional majlis (meeting room), with seating wrapped around the outside edges so that all the guests could see each other. Fragrant Saudi coffee was served in small cups alongside platters of dates, while sweet pastries, rich with pistachio and honey, were politely offered around.
Noura, now in her early sixties, talked about her childhood and how things had changed and developed since those days. I quizzed her on her wedding and she pointed out the make-up and scent which she had kept from that day. It was a fascinating hour or so, and I found it encouraging that the people behind Diriyah were keen to have her involved in At-Turaif.
One of the aspects of my visit that piqued my interest was the role that women are playing in the Diriyah project, from the multi-lingual female guides working in At-Turaif through to those in senior roles in construction, archaeology, community relations and more. It all fitted into a pattern of change, from sustainability to people like Noura, and it made me optimistic for the future of Diriyah on all levels. ⊲
A work in progress
(this page; top to bottom) The UNESCO World Heritage site of At-Turaif is set to reopen to the world in December, though the work to preserve it is ongoing; the Salwa Palace is the original home of the Al Saud family
Saudi Arabia: vital statistics
Capital: Riyadh Population: 34.8 million Languages: Arabic. English is widely spoken Time: GMT+3 International dialling code: +966 Visas: UK nationals and those of other eligible countries can obtain a visa on arrival (SAR480/ £113) or apply online for an e-visa (SAR535/ £125; https://visa.visitsaudi.com) in advance. This entitles you to a stay of up to 90 days. Money: Saudi riyal (SAR), currently SAR4.25 to the UK£. Credit cards are widely accepted but some taxis and services are cash only.
When to go
At-Turaif opens to the public from December. Saudi Arabia (KSA) is extremely hot from May to mid-September, especially around the capital, but the rest of the year it tends to be bright, dry and warm. October–April: This is peak tourist season, as temperatures drop to a balmy average of 22ºC by December, even in the capital. Note that Ramadan will be observed between late May–August: In Riyadh, the temperature can reach well into the 40s (ºC) as summer kicks into gear, though Diriyah can be as much as eight degrees cooler due to its higher altitude and the cooling breezes from Wadi Hanifah. September: Saudi Arabia’s National Day is on 23 September.
March and late April in 2023. Strict fasting takes place and shops won’t serve food before sunset; nor will you be allowed to eat in public by day. But when the restaurants reopen after dusk, they stay open until late as locals break their fasts in huge iftar banquets. Temperatures rise steadily during April.
Health & safety
At the time of writing, there was no requirement to provide a COVID-19 vaccination certificate or negative PCR or antigen tests to enter Saudi Arabia. Consult the FCDO (gov.uk) site prior to setting off in case of change. Before travelling, all visitors must fill out the online Registration Immunisation Information Form (https://arrival.muqeem.sa/#/vaccineregistration/home). You are also advised to have medical insurance that covers the costs of COVID-19 treatment in hospitals.
Getting there
Saudia (Saudia.com) has daily direct flights to Riyadh from London
Heathrow; it also operates flights via Jeddah from Manchester. British Airways (ba.com) similarly flies direct from Heathrow to Riyadh. Flights take 6.5 hours from London and cost from around £698 return.
Getting around
Diriyah is just to the west of Riyadh. Currently there is very little public transport; however, a metro system is due to open to passengers in Riyadh in 2023 and will run to Diriyah. In the interim, the easiest way to travel is by taxi. Although Uber has made it to Riyadh, it is not yet as reliable and popular as other taxi services. The first quarter of the renovated Diriyah to open will be completely pedestrianised.
Hours & tickets
At-Turaif and Bujairi Terrace will be open simultaneously. The hours are 10am to midnight from Sunday to Wednesday; 10am to 1am on Thursdays and Saturdays; and 2pm to midnight on Friday. No ticket is required weekdays before 4pm. A Diriyah Visitor Pass is required after 4pm on weekdays and all day during the weekend; this is bookable via the website (diriyah.sa) or via a downloadable app. Guided tours are bookable on-site and/or in advance only when purchasing a Diriyah Visitor Pass. Comfortable flat shoes are required. Accommodation
Over the next couple of years 38 hotels will open in Diriyah, including such well known brands as Four Seasons, Raffles and Anantara Resorts. Until then, the easiest option is to simply stay in Riyadh, which has a range of modern hotels to choose from.
Food & drink
Bujairi Terrace overlooks At-Turaif and has about 20 restaurants, including international brands such as
Life in the city
(this page; clockwise from this) Gazing out from one of the rooms in Salwa Palace; Takya restaurant prepares for customers; its take on sayadia (rice with pan-seared hammour) offers up a modern spin on a classic dish Hakkasan and home-grown Saudi eateries. Takya (takya.sa) serves regional Saudi cuisine with a modern twist and is highly recommended. Also, don’t miss out on Saudi coffee – it is very good quality and usually has a bit of added spice; plus it is served with a date rather than with sugar. Many restaurants offer delicious juices and mocktails.
Local customs & traditions
The dress code for visitors is now much more relaxed than it was previously. Women no longer have to wear an abaya or cover their hair, but should still dress modestly, as should men, always keeping shoulders and knees covered. Male and female foreign visitors can now share a room in a hotel without proof of marriage and can eat together in restaurants. The only place you are likely to find segregation is at the security queue at the airport, where men and women go through separately. Respectful public decorum is advised, so avoid bad language and loud behaviour. KSA remains a dry country, so no alcohol can be taken in or consumed.
Further reading & information
Visitsaudi.com/en – Official tourist board site for Saudi Arabia; includes visa info. Diriyah.sa – Official site for Diriyah, which includes details on its plans for the future.
WANDERLUST
RECOMMENDS
There are plenty of books on the history of Saudi Arabia, but Robert Lacey’s The Kingdom (Hutchinson, 1981), which charts its story up to 1979, and his follow-up, Inside the Kingdom (Arrow, 2010), offer a comprehensive look at how it came to be.
GET BACK TO NATURE
5 pristine islands in the Philippines
Pinnacle mountains carpeted in forests that trill with the sound of parrots; caves cut by clear-water rivers and coconut coves covered with peppery sands. The Philippines is quintessential Southeast Asia and it comes with a burgeoning commitment to conservation, minimal crowds and a warm welcome. Plus, there are more than 7,000 islands to visit, so you’re spoilt for choice. Here’s a pick of some of the best and what to expect…
1PALAWAN El Nido, on northern Palawan island, is a place of pristine limestone jungle mountains rising from a turquoise sea. Explore them for yourself by kayaking over coral gardens and into lagoons as still as can be. For a bird’s eye view of the ocean and its sprinkling of islets, hike to Taraw peak. Next, head south to Puerto Princesa for rainforest hikes on Mount Sakalot where you can cool off with waterfall swims. Beneath the mountains here, you can even drift on an underground river through the stalactite-studded Natuturingan cave.
For the ultimate adventure, explore one of Southeast Asia’s most jaw-droppingly beautiful wilds on a
All that glitters
(this page; clockwise from top) The clear, karststudded waters of El Nido look as though they were custommade for kayakers; divers in Cebu can expect to see jackfish, parrotfish, turtles and more; a performer at Cebu’s annual Sinulog festival
five-day trek up Mantalingajan mountain, which sits within a wilderness so large that it’s home to Indigenous communities and one of Asia’s greatest concentrations of rare and endemic plants and animals.
2CEBU Cebu mixes nature and culture seamlessly. The island’s annual Sinulog festival is as colourful as any Brazilian
Mardi Gras, with pulsating parades and parties lining the streets. And it’s not the island’s only jewel. Cebu city’s gold-glittering baroque church, Minore del Santo Niño, is the oldest and most venerated in the Philippines.
Elsewhere, the Kan-irag Nature Park is a flagship conservation and reforestation project that abuts the Central Cebu Protected Landscape area, offering sanctuary to nearly 30 native and endemic bird species. In addition, a string of coastal marine sanctuaries offer protection to water birds and turtles.
Be sure to pay a visit to Malapascua islet, off Cebu’s northern cape, which has bone-white strands of beach and some of the finest scuba diving in Southeast Asia. Alongside wrecks, wall dives and reefs, it’s one of the best places in the world to see rare thresher sharks.
Natural beauty
(this page; clockwise from top left) Bohol’s Chocolate Hills are named after the colour that its undulating landscape turns during the dry months; the Philippines’ clear waters are a sanctuary for turtles; the aerial view of lush Siargo island; Boracay boasts magnificent whitesand beaches 3 BORACAY You could almost throw a ball from one side of tiny Boracay to the other, which is why the island’s enticing shell beaches and coconut-shaded coves are so vulnerable to overtourism. In 2018 the Philippines’ government closed the island for clean-up and conservation, a programme that would go on to inspire green initiatives across Asia.
Some 400 hotels and restaurants were temporarily closed; hundreds of tonnes of plastic were removed from beaches and reefs; sewage treatment, recycling and solar-power generation were introduced at key hotels; and when the island re-opened, visitor numbers were heavily restricted. Thanks to these measures, turtles and whale sharks have returned to the sea around Boracay and the island is a place where, if you choose your resort well, you can now relax in the knowledge that you are travelling with a much lighter footprint.
4BOHOL Bohol is a beauty, with rolling chocolate-coloured hills and valleys as green as Ireland that are cut by winding rivers. Lush forests echo with birdsong and there are some fabulous shores and dive sites. Terns trill on Alona Beach’s sugar-white sands, manta rays congregate around Pamilacan islet and turtles and huge schools of barracuda bustle in the seas around Balicasag. From March to June you can also see Bryde’s and sperm whales offshore.
Inland, the island’s dense forests are home to tiny tarsiers – fluffy primates with eyes like bushbabies. It’s a wild wonder that is also very well protected. Bohol is one of the country’s eco-tourism pioneers, and it has a strict code of conduct for boat operators in particular, who require a ‘Seal of Excellence’ in best practice in order to operate trips offshore.
5SIARGAO With its tubing waves and beach breaks, Siargao has been a surferdude draw for decades. Since the pandemic, it’s grown to become one of the Philippines’ light-adventure capitals. You can kitesurf on the calm lagoon near General Luna town, kayak through extensive mangrove forests, wander through stalactite-filled caves and wakeboard, rock climb and plunge into pool-sized mini lagoons at Magpupungko on the easy-to-access east coast. There’s great snorkelling and diving, too, at sites such as Shark Point and the Cathedral – a vast undersea cave studded with coral.
Myriad beaches line Siargao’s main island and fringe coral cayes offshore. Many are backed by low-key beachside boutiques offering zen-calm stays, detox smoothies and yoga at sunrise. It’s perfect for some relaxing downtime after those activity-packed days in the pristine islands of the Philippines.
