There was a storm starting up in the mountains when we were leaving the Asiri Flower Men Camp site. The skies were getting dark and the lightning was flashing at regular intervals… It was time to move back to the Abha Old Town.

The Souq of Abha Old Town

We decided to check out Souq Thalatha (also known as Souq Thuluth – literally the Tuesday Market), even though it was, well… Saturday. The goal? To pick up a few souvenirs and just wander through the stalls to see what the market had to offer.

One thing quickly became clear: while the Asir region is definitely positioning itself as a future tourism hotspot, it hasn’t quite embraced the souvenir game yet. Around the main attractions, you’re unlikely to find the usual fridge magnets or mini replicas. At best, you might come across some locally made food items on the roadside – or, if you’re lucky, a piece of Qatt art from the atelier of the renowned Fatimah.

Then it started properly raining – the kind of unexpected downpour that turns casual market browsing into impromptu shelter-hunting. We ended up tucked inside one of those magical shops that somehow sells everything: spices, pottery, clothes, daggers, hats… basically a chaotic treasure chest disguised as a market stall.

The woman running it wasn’t interested in haggling (respect), but to be fair, her prices were already more than reasonable. I picked up a flowing blue dress to match my blue abaya, and naturally, the internet had opinions. My DMs lit up with people telling me I looked like a genie from Aladdin. Sure. I’ll grant you three wishes.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, a sweet, random moment happened—while we were buying yet another round of flatbread.

The rain finally stopped, and we went back to the hotel to chill for a moment (but really just a moment). Then back to crazy roads on the side of Soudah Mountain with Saudi Fannaneen left and right.

Coffee Stop at Abu Sarrah

Stopped for coffee at Abu Sarrah Palace (casually drinking coffee at the foot of the palace). It was getting rather chilly, maybe 18 degrees. Though many Arabs enjoy these kinds of temperatures, I honestly freeze these days to anything below 27. And yes, you can comment on my Russian blood all you want. The environment I’ve been living in for past 10 years has made me heat-resistant, and not cold-proof. Never enjoyed cold weather much, sun all the way.

We sat there for a while, swapping stories about the trips that stayed with us – the ones that shift your perspective a little each time. Someone mentioned how travel makes you more tolerant, and we all nodded, because it’s true. You learn to deal with delays, detours, and deeply unbearable people, especially the kind who realize halfway through a trip that what they really want… is to go home, eat food they recognize, and speak a language that doesn’t require hand gestures and guesswork.

But eventually the coffees ran dry, the night air turned crisp, and reality called us back. We piled into the car and drove toward the city, through a glow of mountain lights and mildly chaotic traffic, ordering McDonald’s en route (yes, yes, I know… don’t judge us). We made a quick stop to buy fruits from a roadside vendor, the kind of moment that feels both spontaneous and totally intentional.

And just like that, we closed the loop – ending the night not at home, but where art lives: at Studio Phi, where the journey softened into quiet again, surrounded by light, brushes, and the stillness that always waits for you at the end of the road.

Studio Phi

The art scene in Saudi Arabia these days is like a desert plant that suddenly got rained on after years of drought. There is so much going on, and it is absolutely wonderful to see every aspect of it. Arabic language itself is like poetry and the creativity of people whose brains are shaped by this language is unparalleled.

In the gallery, we met Hatem and Saeed, who showed us what they are working on. Which includes printing, engineering, making sculptures, painting, film development and what not. Then joined by Shahd, who introduced us to her work representing our relationship with Earth in her creation. Mindblowing work!

We sit around in a circle, talking about ourselves, dreams and inspirations, chewing our McDonalds and sipping tea. Somehow it was almost midnight and we didn’t see the time passing… I just met these people but I loved their energy and would be lovely to come and hang out in their studio, seeing them create.

We returned to our glorious hotel, and once again – even though I was completely exhausted – I couldn’t sleep. My body was tired, but my mind was buzzing, overstimulated by all the colors, stories, and moments still ricocheting around from the day. It’s that kind of travel fatigue where your heart’s full, your feet hurt, and your brain refuses to power down.

Breakfast Reminiscences of The Past

The next morning, it was time to check out. I stuffed my belongings back into the suitcase (somehow everything always seems to expand overnight) and made my way down to the lobby, on a mission for breakfast. We were headed to a spot with real character – a former police station in old Abha that had been transformed into a restaurant. From interrogation to coffee.

In the elevator, I had a brief interaction with a young Saudi woman who asked me, in Arabic, where the hotel’s conference rooms were. I had absolutely no idea, so I gave her my best smile and suggested she ask at the reception. She nodded politely, and we both continued our mornings in the gentle awkwardness of strangers navigating hotel logistics.

Over coffee, the conversation took a softer turn. F. told me about her grandfather – a Bahraini artist and poet, full of vision and creativity. But after he passed, her grandmother quietly cleared away his legacy. She repainted his studio, got rid of most of his work, and turned the space into a regular room, as if to erase the memory of the artist who once brought it to life.

It stayed with me, that story. How easy it is for a space to shift, for art to vanish, for one person’s world to be folded up and packed away like it was never there.

Abha Old Town Former Police Station

Finally, we set off on foot, crossing the Ottoman bridge into the older part of Abha. The air was cooler, the streets quieter, and everything had that early-morning glow of a place not quite awake yet. Along the way, we spotted a young Saudi man jogging energetically in his thobe, clearly committed to his workout routine. We couldn’t help but giggle – there’s something undeniably charming about someone doing lunges in traditional attire – but to his credit, he was giving it everything he had. Full dedication, no compromises. Respect.

We wandered the neighborhood for a while, admiring beautiful old doors, scraggly cacti sprouting defiantly from random spots in the buildings, and the kind of architectural details that feel half-forgotten but full of soul. Eventually, thirtht guided us back to a traditional breakfast spot, where we settled into a cozy floor seating area with half walls – just enough privacy to feel hidden, but still very much part of the communal buzz.

Air-Dropping In KSA

On the other side of the wall, our neighbors were listening intently to what sounded like a serious religious sermon, while we, in true contrast, were howling with laughter over the cheesiest pick-up lines ever used on us – or by us. (Some of them really shouldn’t be repeated in daylight.)

And just when we thought we were worlds apart from the pious vibes drifting over the divider, we got a very modern surprise: an unsolicited AirDrop request featuring Snapchat codes and some rather…questionable images. Apparently, even during moments of spiritual reflection, networking never sleeps in Saudi Arabia.

Here’s something you should know if you’re new to the Kingdom: in crowded places – especially airports and public gatherings – AirDropping strangers bizarre or flirty content seems to be a national hobby. I have no data on the success rate of this tactic, but I personally like to keep a low Bluetooth profile and decline all mystery files.

Eventually, our mysterious neighbors wrapped up their meal, and we got a glimpse: two elderly Saudi gentlemen in unusually short thobes and impressively long beards, accompanied by a flock of women and children. So much for first impressions. Alas, we will never be Snapchat friends. But we’ll always have that shared Wi-Fi space – and the memory of being nearly converted and digitally courted, all in the same breakfast.

Another Abandoned Village

We returned to our trusty vehicle – dusty, reliable, and a little sun-weary like us – and set off to catch one last breath of that crisp mountain air from Soudah Mountain. On the way, we made an impromptu stop at yet another abandoned village, crumbling quietly on the hillside like a secret waiting to be remembered.

Mohammed, ever full of stories, told us he had once tried to acquire the village – his dream was to transform it into a boutique lodge and restaurant, blending preservation with hospitality. But the authorities didn’t grant him the green light, and the dream stayed just that – a dream. It would have been magical, no doubt. But, as he said with a shrug, not everything is meant to be.

The views from that quiet place were something else – wide and still and ancient, the kind that makes your thoughts slow down to match the silence. The stone walls, sun-bleached and worn, looked like they had soaked up generations of stories – family lives, whispers, seasons passing, now only shadows and wind.

In the overgrown garden, we stumbled upon a fig tree, its tiny green fruits clinging to the branches like promises. I stood there for a moment, wondering if anyone would come back to pick them when they ripen – or if the birds and time will claim them all.

Souda Mountain

Finally we made way to our final stop on the observation deck of the national park on top of the mountain. We didn’t speak much, just roamed around engulfed in the beauty of nature, the silence of the mountains overlapping each other… not believing that in a few hours we would have to get back on the plane to take us back to the hot and humid Dubai.

Needless to say, we all wished this moment can just last a little longer.

Abha High City

Before heading to the airport, we made one last stop for coffee at High City in Abha – a newly opened cluster of cafes and restaurants perched with a view, buzzing with people soaking in the last golden light of the day. It had that crisp air of endings and the sweetness of one more coffee before parting ways.

As we sat there, someone in the group turned to me and said something that stayed with me: “It’s funny—you’re technically a foreigner in this group, but we don’t see you as one.” They explained that they’d traveled with non-Arabs before, and while those people were kind, it always felt like they had to explain themselves, their culture, their presence. But with me, they said, “You’re just… one of us.”

And I thought about how often in my life I’ve felt the opposite – like I don’t quite belong in the places I’m “supposed” to fit into, while finding unexpected comfort and kinship in places that, on paper, should feel foreign.

Maybe that’s the real gift of travel – not just seeing new places, but finding the places where your heart exhales, even if the language is different and the streets are unfamiliar. And maybe, some of us are just meant to belong everywhere a little – and nowhere entirely.

Airport Road – Take Me Home

On the way to the airport, we got caught up in laughing far too hard about some ridiculous banana-related story — so much so that Mohammed missed the turn entirely, and we ended up taking a grand scenic detour just to get back on track. Classic.

The car was full of that light, post-trip energy – equal parts laughter and the quiet awareness that it was all coming to an end. We hadn’t even said our goodbyes yet, and I already missed them.

The plane was late, and the waiting in the terminal was uneventfully long. We did however see the guy who tried to ruin our Rijal Almaa experience on our plane and we found it ironic, even though he pretended that he has never met us in his life.

The sunset was absolutely out of this world, and with heart full of love once again I returned from KSA third time this year, awaiting impatiently when I can go back again and discover more of this land full of mysteries and adventures.

Thank you for following my trip, I hope you had fun and stay tuned for more.

Anna