Day three of holidays kicked off with me dancing around my hotel room to “Yasalam Ya Dubai” – yes, I know, cringe, but the excitement was real. Somewhere between the shoulder shimmies and packing, I also managed to sneak a few candid shots of Saudis walking past my window – unaware, of course, that they were being documented by a hyperactive tourist.

Breakfast was the usual gathering in the hall with the gang. Mohammed declared that the coffee that morning was “not as successful” as the day before. He also casually mentioned that we wouldn’t be seeing a bathroom until midday, so in hindsight, drinking that coffee might not have been our brightest collective decision. (Cue flashbacks to the Ice Cave Incident™.)

Road Tripping With Arabs

Before leaving Abha, we briefly attempted a coup d’état of the van – the girls wanted a ‘ladies-only’ road trip, full party mode. There was music, laughter, mild plotting. But alas, the guys talked us down and convinced us to let them drive. This, despite the fact that just a day earlier, it took us solid 30 minutes to wrestle the trusty Hyundai out of a ridiculously tight parking spot. Legend has it we only made it out thanks to our expert-level cheerleading and strategic yelling from all angles.

Today, we were headed to Bahi Asir Al Jahma, a village tucked so close to the Yemeni border that you can hear military planes flying overhead regularly – and not for festive flyovers, unfortunately. The beauty of the place was undeniable, but so was the tension that lingers in a region where the landscape is ancient and the air carries stories you don’t hear on guided tours.

As we drove toward the village, the landscape began to shift – the lush greenery of the high mountains slowly gave way to rockier, drier terrain. The further we moved from the rainfall-rich elevations, the more the earth revealed its raw, rugged bones. Strangely enough, some of the mountains and hills reminded me of Cape Town — or at least how I remember them.

In the car, Balqees was singing, her voice floating between conversations and laughter. The road, true to Saudi form, was peppered with sudden, morale-testing speed bumps, the kind that make you pray your head doesn’t hit the ceiling again. But we were in good spirits – moods were high, expectations even higher.

Bahi Asir Al Jahma Village

When we reached the area, Mohammed casually told us that there might be snakes living in those high grasses we were about to cross. So we shouldn’t be alarmed if we see some. But thankfully we didn’t encounter snakes. Just a dead cat on our way… not sure what would have been better.

The village was, as promised, the photographers dream – red clay houses with traditional decorations inside against bright blue sky. I honestly felt overwhelmed and we only had limited time to explore it…

You could spend a whole day there.

We had to do a bit of a climb to reach the top, but made it without casualties—just slightly elevated heart rates and a few dramatic sighs. If you’re planning to go, do yourself a favor: wear something orange to get least dirty and bring proper hiking shoes. Your ankles and dignity will thank you.

The Houses Of Bahi Al Jahma Village

The houses are slowly surrendering to time – crumbling under the weight of rain and sun. The room once full of vibrant Asiri Qatt art that Mohammed was eager to show us had already been claimed by the elements. And it had only been a couple of years since he last visited.

Still, even in decay, what remained left us speechless. The beauty, the craftsmanship, the stories etched into every surface. There’s something deeply humbling about witnessing a place just as it begins to disappear, and knowing that even in its final chapters, it can still take your breath away.

I don’t know whose idea it was, but someone proposed we go up this building which must have been a watch tower.

And though it does look solid, it was quite an adventure to go up… and I can’t believe how effortless we look in this photo after climbing and sliding, and crawling and pulling each other up…

But it was fun, and the view was decent. However, the time was running out and we had only 15 minutes to explore the village on our own. And I wish to tell you that I used them productively to do a little timelapse or long exposure of the clouds. But no, I was just roaming around in amazement, getting my clothes dirty in orange dust and not believing I was actually on these lands, 50 kms away from Yemen.

Hopes for Preservation

I honestly don’t know what to say, I just hope this place doesn’t get crumbled down by the sea of influencers not respecting it. It feels powerful, it feels full of potential. If it was closer to some other landmarks, there would be hope the government would restore it to it’s former glory. But apparently there is just too many abandoned villages in exchange for the comfort of the city life and who are we to blame them…

At the time of the second prayer of the day, we had to get in the car and go for lunch, accompanied by more military planes and more Balqees songs…

The next adventure would be to go see the Khawlani Tribe of Jazan mountains performance of dancing in their flower crowns with traditional daggers. But apparently people can’t read more than two minutes of content and this one is already 5. So I will have to tell about that experience in the next post.

Thanks for tuning in,

Much love,

Anna