Saudi chapter: Riyadh done the right away
From Diriyah’s dreamy stays to plate-licking dinners and blissfully zero humidity, I fell hard for Saudi Arabia
I landed in Riyadh expecting heat and hustle. I didn’t expect the immigration officer to greet me with rapid-fire Arabic, assume I was local, and wave me through with the easy warmth of a long-lost cousin. It happened again with cab drivers, hotel staff, even the barista who handed me a cup of karak like we’d known each other since school. Apparently, I’ve got a very convincing ‘Saudi on a city break’ face, and honestly, I took it as the highest compliment and a sign to fast-track my Arabic lessons.
What really surprised me was how quickly the city felt like mine. Riyadh is big and bold and buzzing, but it’s also gracious, and, praise be, free of humidity. My hair forgave me. My temper did too.
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Base camp was Bab Samhan Hotel in Diriyah, a hotel that feels stitched into the earth. Think warm textures, handsome lines, and that classic Najdi palette that makes every corner a camera moment. Step outside and you’re in lanes that whisper old stories—mud-brick silhouettes, date palms, the soft thrum of evening when lanterns flicker on and families begin their stroll. It’s the sort of place that slows your breathing a notch. I slept like a saint and woke to sunlight ribboning through the windows, the city stretching awake beyond.
Meals became the day’s punctuation marks. La Petite Maison for lunch was the familiar hug I didn’t know I needed, bright, lemony, and a little bit show-off (as it should be). We shared plates until the table disappeared: silky burrata, delicious snails, and that iconic roast baby chicken that tastes like sunshine learned to cook.
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Dinner at Najdi was the Saudi chapter, modern, confident, and generous. Dishes arrived family-style: fragrant rice, beautifully cooked chicken, sharp little salads, sauces with bite, and breads I devoured. It felt unmistakably Riyadh, rooted in tradition, happy to improvise, and very, very good.
Now, the roads. Riyadh drives like it’s training for a motorsport category that hasn’t been invented yet. Lanes are more ‘suggestions’ than ‘rules,’ indicators are décor, and speeds are, well, enthusiastic. I clutched the seatbelt like a rosary and developed a sudden interest in defensive breathing. And yet, even in the chaos, there’s courtesy: drivers slide over to let you merge, wave you through with a nod, and deposit you curbside with a parting “welcome” that you feel in your bones.
That’s the enduring note of the city: welcome. Saudis are startlingly friendly, curious, generous, and quick to help. Ask a question and you’ll get directions, recommendations, family history, and probably a phone number in case you need anything else. I lost count of the times someone walked me to a door rather than just pointing. It turns a big city into a neighbourhood.
By the time I checked out, Riyadh had picked my pockets and filled them with new favourites. Sunrise walks in Diriyah, long lunches that stretch into plans, and the thrill of a city reinventing itself in real time. I left with a full camera roll, a half-learned greeting, and a soft promise to come back soon. Some places seduce you slowly. Riyadh got me the moment the plane door opened, and the air said: relax, there’s no humidity here.
Images: Archive
