Introduction
AlUla. Just speaking the name aloud stirs something quietly in the depths of one’s heart. Located in the Hejaz region of northwestern Saudi Arabia, this ancient city is truly a “living museum” where the footprints of Nabataean civilization interweave with towering sandstone monoliths that have marked the passage of millennia.
The ruins of the Nabataean Kingdom, which flourished from the 1st century BCE to the 1st century CE, rival Petra in their grandeur. The Hegra ruins, known as “Mada’in Salih,” feature over 100 tombs carved into sandstone cliff faces, their intricate decorations leaving viewers breathless. This land also served as a crucial crossroads for the incense trade, connecting the Arabian Peninsula with Mesopotamia and the Mediterranean world.
AlUla’s allure extends beyond its ancient ruins. Nature has sculpted remarkable formations like Elephant Rock and Arch Rock. Date palm groves spread across oases, and at night, an unpolluted canopy of stars stretches across the desert sky. This is a place where human civilization and natural forces have maintained a quiet dialogue for thousands of years.
As Saudi Arabia has opened its doors to tourism in recent years, AlUla has been unveiled to the world as the “jewel of Saudi Arabia.” Yet its essence remains unchanged. Ancient memories carried on desert winds and the weight of time carved into rock faces speak deeply to the souls of those who visit.
I chose this destination not merely as a tourist site, but seeking a journey that would touch the deeper parts of my soul where human history and natural mystery intersect.
Day 1: Ancient Melodies Echoing Through the Desert
The journey from King Abdulaziz International Airport to AlUla was truly a voyage back through time. Watching the modern cityscape of Jeddah gradually give way to desert vistas through the car window, I felt myself slowly being released from the noise of daily life.
The moment I stepped into AlUla, dry desert air brushed against my cheek. The atmosphere was surprisingly clear, and the distant sandstone mountains stood out with sharp definition. My accommodation, the Heritage Hotel, was a beautiful building that modernly interpreted traditional Arabian architecture. The courtyard was adorned with colorful tiles, and a small fountain played a soothing water melody.
In the morning, I first walked through AlUla’s Old Town. This district, called the Old Quarter, preserves mud-brick residential complexes where people actually lived from the 12th to 20th centuries. Walking through the maze-like narrow alleys, one falls into the illusion that time has stopped. The sun-dried brick walls show a unique character worn by long years, and decorations carved here and there tell stories of life in bygone days.
My local guide, Ahmad, spoke fluent English as he narrated the town’s history. “This town was an important waystation on the pilgrimage route to Mecca. Merchants would rest here and replenish their water and food supplies.” The old streetscape we walked through while listening to his explanations indeed held the tranquility needed to heal the fatigue of long journeys.
For lunch, I enjoyed “Kabsa,” a traditional Saudi Arabian dish, at a small restaurant near the Old Town. Basmati rice with spiced chicken, and the aromatic flavor of saffron spread through my mouth. The accompanying yogurt sauce softened the spiciness and gently soaked into my body, tired from the desert heat. When the elderly restaurant owner learned I was traveling alone, he warmly welcomed me with “Ahlan wa sahlan,” and after the meal, he served Arabic coffee and dates.
In the afternoon, I headed to one of this trip’s highlights: the Hegra ruins. After a 20-minute drive, the view suddenly opened up, revealing massive sandstone rock formations. I gasped at the sight—a surreal beauty as if I had landed on another planet.
The first site I visited was the tomb called “Qasr al-Farid (the Lonely Castle).” This structure, carved into a single 22-meter-high rock, represents the pinnacle of Nabataean stonework. Overwhelmed by the precision of the front columns and decorations, I stood before it for some time. Two thousand years ago, what thoughts filled the craftsmen who wielded their chisels to create this tomb?
As evening approached, the rock faces changed color from golden to orange, then deep purple. The desert sunset possessed a majesty impossible to witness in urban areas. Rock mountain silhouettes floated against the sky, and a mysterious time flowed where ancient and modern overlapped.
That night, I chose a desert camping experience. The Bedouin-style tent was surprisingly comfortable, with carpeted interiors decorated with traditional ornaments. Dinner was served around a campfire near the tent. The lamb kebab was slowly grilled over charcoal, crispy outside and juicy inside. Eating flatbread with harissa sauce, the spicy flavor matched perfectly with the cool desert night.
After dinner, I listened to the sound of an oud played by a local man beside the campfire. The melancholy tones characteristic of stringed instruments resonated through the quiet desert night. In the moonless sky, more stars twinkled than I had ever seen before. The Milky Way was clearly visible, and shooting stars occasionally crossed the night sky.
Lying in the tent, I quietly reflected on the day’s events. The grandeur of the ruins, the warmth of the people, and the profound silence of the desert—all of these resonated in the depths of my heart, creating a sensation of remembering something important.
Day 2: Natural Sculptures and Ancient Memories
The desert morning was clearer than I had expected. Stepping outside the tent, the eastern sky began to tinge with pale pink. The desert sunrise was serene, offering the luxury of having nature’s color drama all to myself in complete silence, without a single bird song.
Breakfast consisted of ful, a bean paste warmed by the campfire, fresh-baked khubz (Arabian bread), and rich Arabic coffee. Simple yet perfect for a desert morning, the coffee’s bitterness and cardamom aroma gently chased away sleepiness.
In the morning, I headed to Elephant Rock, one of AlUla’s most iconic landmarks. This natural rock formation, shaped by weathering, indeed resembles an elephant with its trunk hanging down. Standing beneath this 52-meter-high natural sculpture, I was overwhelmed by Earth’s artwork carved over tens of thousands of years. The striped patterns on the rock face tell the story of geological layers, and the fine irregularities on the surface are evidence of wind and sand sculpting over unimaginable periods.
Walking around the rock while Ahmad shared stories of Nabataean life, I let my imagination wander. “Though they were desert people, they were skilled in water management. Ancient wells and waterway remains can still be found around here.” Indeed, near Elephant Rock in the shade of rocks, inscriptions in Nabataean script are scattered about. Though I couldn’t understand their meaning, the thoughts of ancient people embedded there seemed to transcend time and space.
For lunch, I enjoyed mansaf, a traditional dish, at a restaurant in AlUla’s new city. The lamb cooked in yogurt-based sauce was surprisingly tender, and the rice underneath paired well with the sauce’s acidity. Seeing locals eat with their hands, I tried to imitate them. Though I struggled initially, a Saudi Arabian family at the next table taught me how to eat with warm smiles, creating a moment of heartwarming exchange.
In the afternoon, I visited Jabal Ikmah, known as an ancient library. This place resembles an outdoor museum where countless inscriptions and pictographs are carved into rock walls, featuring various scripts from different eras—Nabataean, Arabic, and ancient South Arabian scripts. Most impressive were the rock paintings depicting camels, horses, and human figures. Despite their simple line engravings, they vividly capture the dynamism of animals and scenes from people’s daily lives.
“Many of these inscriptions were left by passing merchants and travelers. It’s like the ancient equivalent of ‘I was here,’” Ahmad explained. Indeed, some apparently read “So-and-so, son of so-and-so, passed through here.” These ancient graffiti spoke to humanity’s universal desire to leave records, creating a sense of kinship across time.
In the evening, I visited the Dadan ruins. These are the remains of the capital of the Dadan Kingdom, which flourished from the 9th to 6th centuries BCE, with even older history than Hegra. Though the stone walls and residential remains show weathering, they were sufficient to imagine the scale of the city that once prospered here. The oasis greenery viewed from atop the ruins appeared like a symbol of life suddenly emerging in the desert, helping me understand why ancient people built their city in this location.
That night, I watched a performance of traditional AlUla music and dance. The venue was an outdoor amphitheater with the star-filled sky serving as a natural ceiling. The ardah, a warrior dance performed by men with swords, was powerful, while the women’s dances possessed graceful, flowing beauty. The singing that accompanied the drums and oud had something that touched the heart, even without understanding Arabic.
After the performance, I had a chance to speak briefly with one of the elderly male performers. He told me in English, “This dance is a treasure inherited from our ancestors. Our history and soul are embedded in the dance.” Listening to his words, I deeply understood that the dance I had witnessed was not mere entertainment but a living expression of culture rooted in this land.
On the way back to the hotel, I gazed at AlUla’s nightscape. Among the scattered modern streetlights, illuminated ancient ruins floated in view. This scene where past and present naturally coexist might represent the very essence of AlUla.
Day 3: Memories Carved in Morning Farewell
I welcomed my final day of travel by rising early as usual. AlUla in the morning, viewed from the hotel’s rooftop terrace, looked somehow different from the previous days. Perhaps the attachment that had grown between me and this land was transforming the landscape into something special. The silhouettes of distant mountains felt as familiar as old friends.
While slowly savoring breakfast, I reflected on the past two days. The people I met, the landscapes I saw, the emotions I felt—all of these were quietly crystallizing in my heart.
For the morning, I decided to visit the Hegra ruins once more as a conclusion to my journey. The tomb complex viewed from a different angle than yesterday showed new expressions. The soft morning light illuminating the rock faces brought the fine carvings on the stone surface into sharper relief.
Particularly impressive was the place called “Diwan,” the remains of a meeting hall. This space, carved from rock walls, is said to be where Nabataeans made important decisions. Stepping inside, I was enveloped by cool air and distinctive silence. Gazing at the decorations remaining on the walls, I imagined the ancient dialogues that must have taken place here.
My final visit was to the tomb of King Lihyanite. This tomb, considered to have the most beautiful decorations among the Hegra ruins, represents the pinnacle of Nabataean art. The precision of columns and decorative bands carved on the front facade reveals new discoveries with each viewing. Beyond the high level of the stoneworkers’ skills, I was deeply moved by the views on death and religion of the people who invested such effort in tomb construction.
For lunch, I savored Arabian cuisine for my final meal in AlUla. The menu began with mutambal, an eggplant paste, followed by falafel, shawarma, and kunafa, a sweet dessert. Each dish possessed flavors that spoke of this land’s rich food culture. Kunafa in particular, made with cheese and semolina dough topped with syrup, offered a gentle sweetness that healed travel fatigue.
In the afternoon, I strolled through AlUla’s new city while searching for souvenirs. Traditional craft shops sold carpets hand-woven by Bedouin women and silver jewelry. The elderly shop owner carefully explained the origin of each item. I purchased a small pendant as a memento, learning that “this pattern represents desert constellations.”
At the market, I bought local dates, saffron, and spices. AlUla’s dates were exceptionally sweet, with deep flavors that intensified with each bite. Taking these back to Japan would allow me to enjoy AlUla’s tastes again alongside memories of this journey.
Before heading to the airport in the evening, I went to see Elephant Rock once more. This time I wanted to quietly face that massive rock alone. As sunset painted the rock face red, I tried to organize what I had felt over these two days.
What impressed me most about this journey was the “layered temporality” that AlUla possesses. The Nabataean Kingdom, Dadan Kingdom, the arrival of Islam, pilgrimage route prosperity, modernization, and current tourism development—traces of various eras overlap while still breathing in this land today. And embracing all of these is the desert’s eternal nature.
The warmth of this land’s people also became unforgettable memories. Guide Ahmad, restaurant owners, the market grandmother, the male performer—the human warmth I felt beyond differences in language and culture enriched this journey.
In the car heading to the airport, I burned the passing scenery firmly into my eyes. Rock mountains scattered across the desert, oasis greenery, and the sun setting on the horizon—these sights will continue living in my heart.
My two nights and three days in AlUla transcended mere sightseeing to become a time of deep introspection and discovery. I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of ancient ruins, moved by nature’s sculptural beauty, and warmed by interactions with local people. Above all, gaining the opportunity to think about the flow of time and life’s meaning from a different angle was the greatest harvest.
Conclusion
Though this journey is a product of imagination, even now as I write, I can distinctly feel that desert wind and sense the weight of characters carved in ancient stone. AlUla’s magical power fully exercises its strength even in imagination, leaving certain footprints in the depths of my heart.
Ancient voices heard in desert silence, memories of time carved in rock walls, and warm smiles of people I met—while all products of imagination, they breathe in my heart as undeniable reality. This imagined journey to AlUla taught me that travel doesn’t necessarily require physical movement; adventures experienced in the heart are equally valuable.
Hoping that someday I might experience this imagined journey as reality, I bid farewell to AlUla in my heart. There, eternal desert winds still blow, and ancient memories continue echoing quietly.
