by “Are you going anywhere nice?” asks the sales assistant in Boots as I hand over the tube of heavy-duty sunscreen on a cold January afternoon. I give her the honest answer, which is that I’m not really sure.
After all, who would go to Saudi Arabia? According to the latest available estimates, around 80,000 Britons make the journey each year. But the vast majority of those are religious pilgrimages and business travel. In fact, the ultra-conservative desert kingdom didn’t even offer tourist visas until 2019. What has changed?
In a word: money. With much of the world trying to move away from fossil fuels, the world’s second largest oil producer can no longer rely entirely on black gold for its economic future. Instead, the modernized Crown Prince wants to invest about $800 billion (yes, billion) in building a world-class tourism industry. But is Saudi Arabia really ready to welcome visitors?
Anyone who wants to find out may face one immediate obstacle: getting a visa. In theory, traveling on a UK passport qualifies one for a visa on arrival at the airport. But there’s a catch: it’ll cost you around £100. Instead, I’m told, it’s better to apply for an “electronic visa waiver”, which costs just £30. But, when I try to complete the mandatory online form, the whole system crashes.
For any regular traveller, this type of administration is often very annoying. But it’s especially frustrating since Saudi Arabia has been encouraged by the success of the UAE (and Dubai in particular) – a country that essentially abolished visas for Western travelers years ago. If you want to build a tourism industry, why bother with red tape?
Arriving in Jeddah – the Red Sea destination of Saudi Arabia’s more liberal city – things start to look up. After flying (from London) with the national carrier, Saudia, we head straight to a snazzy new terminal. As is too often the case, I feel ashamed when I think about the poor and crumbling infrastructure at home. Meanwhile, the immigration process is seamless, as a friendly niqab-clad border agent welcomes you to the Kingdom.
For much of its history, Saudi Arabia was one of the most pious Islamic societies in the world. But current Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (or “MBS”) has begun a controversial modernization drive, including stripping the religious police of their powers. Some changes, such as allowing women to drive, have made global headlines. But it is the less reported transfers that are likely to affect tourists.
Take restaurants, for example. Ten years ago, all establishments in Saudi Arabia were mandated to maintain sex-segregated spaces. These days, Jeddah’s well-heeled denizens can mingle freely in the likes of Nobu and Novikov, or pass by the quirky-named Shoreditch-style coffee shops (walking along the gorgeous corniche, I spot one called ‘Overdose ‘). Even small local restaurants have scrapped the old rules.
Similarly, the strict religious dress codes have been largely relaxed for both locals and tourists. Outside of visiting mosques, visitors are only advised to keep their knees and shoulders covered. Women who choose to avoid the compulsory head covering face few problems – with significant numbers of younger locals making the same choice.
Will tourism spur further liberalization in Saudi Arabia? I’m not so sure. For one thing, the Saudi monarchy seems to have taken a page from the book of another conservative Islamic country, the Maldives, and blocked the construction of several special holiday islands, where Westerners can frolic in bikinis without offending any local sensitivities.
The first of these, the St Regis Red Sea, opened in January, with rooms costing over £1,000 a night. Since it is only accessible by boat or seaplane, I decide to take another option that will allow me to see more of Saudi society. With that in mind, I book into the majestic Park Hyatt Jeddah on the south side of the corniche.
As five star hotels go, it is as luxurious as anywhere I have stayed in the Middle East, although a little more conservative. Unlike comparable hotels in Dubai or Muscat, for example, there is no chance of you getting an alcoholic drink. Likewise, the hotel’s fitness facilities are segregated by sex (although the manager assures me that, far from being a sexist decision, the women’s facilities are even better).
After exploring the luxurious grounds of the Park Hyatt, I hail a taxi to Jeddah’s historic Al Balad district. With its ancient coral-stone buildings and tiny alleyways, the old town is fascinating to look at and a lot of fun to explore. Even better, it’s completely free of the irritations I’ve encountered in other Middle Eastern destinations – none of the “good price!” a pattern of sales that you will find in the Dubai souk, or knives of dangerous mopeds as in Marrakech.
With throngs of women and burqa-clad worshipers streaming into mosques, Al Balad certainly feels conservative, but not oppressive – at least to a Western man passing through. But just when I think about the place I feel I come across something unexpected: an outdoor comedy show.
Talking to the organizer, a young woman from Arabia who represents a local arts charity, I learn that the comedian on stage is actually running a class: teaching a handful of locals the art of joke writing. It is surprising, I tell the story to a local back in the hotel. “That’s nothing,” he says. “I was invited to a salsa class there a few weeks ago.”
Jeddah may be a city on the march. But will anyone make the seven-hour journey from London to holiday here? The luxury hotels seem quite confident: Four Seasons and Raffles are set to open in Jeddah this year. With the Saudi monarchy spending heavily on sporting events, including the men’s football World Cup in 2034, it is clear that they are hopeful that people will come.
As I enjoy my final offering of the Jeddah sunset at the Park Hyatt, I receive an email from Saudia about my upcoming flight. Because of the amount of empty seats, he says, I can enjoy a second seat or even an entire row in exchange for paying a little extra. By modern airline standards, it’s a thoughtful and entrepreneurial touch. But as an indicator of a healthy tourism industry, it’s not a great sign.
