About Marcus

The Decision

In early 2022, I watched a documentary about Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030 and its newly opened tourism sector. Something about it intrigued me—not the megaprojects or the geopolitical angles, but the fact that an entire country was essentially closed to leisure travelers until 2019. What does a place look like when it's been preserved from mass tourism? What happens when ancient sites meet modern visitors for the first time?

I started researching obsessively. AlUla's Nabataean tombs. The Edge of the World's geological drama. Jeddah's coral architecture. The more I learned, the more I realized that Western media had given me virtually no understanding of Saudi Arabia beyond stereotypes and headlines. Here was a country with 7,000 years of history, incredible landscapes, and a society in the middle of unprecedented transformation—and almost no one was writing about the human experience of being there.

So in June 2022, I did something either brave or stupid, depending on your perspective: I quit my job, sold most of my belongings, and booked a one-way ticket to Jeddah with no clear plan beyond "figure it out when I get there."

The Reality

I won't romanticize it—those first months were hard. My savings dwindled faster than planned. I got food poisoning in Riyadh that laid me out for a week. I struggled with the language barrier, the climate, the cultural differences, and frequent moments of wondering what exactly I was doing with my life.

But I also met people who changed my perspective on everything: Bedouin guides who shared their coffee and stories, young Saudis navigating their country's transformation, expat workers from a dozen countries, fellow travelers as confused and amazed as I was. I learned to read landscapes, to listen more than I spoke, to ask questions without assuming I already knew the answers.

Slowly, I started writing—not marketing copy or analytical reports, but actual stories about real experiences. I pitched articles to travel publications, most of which rejected me, a few of which took a chance. I taught myself basic photography beyond the amateur snapshots I'd always taken. I figured out how to support myself through freelance writing, occasional photography sales, and yes, some continued remote consulting work when money got tight.

Why Saudi Arabia?

People ask me this constantly. Why not Morocco, or Jordan, or any of the more established Middle Eastern destinations? Several reasons:

Timing: Saudi Arabia's tourism industry is brand new. I arrived early enough to see places before they become overrun, to document this specific moment of transformation. In ten years, everything will be different. Being here now feels like witnessing history.

Complexity: Saudi Arabia defies easy narratives. It's conservative yet changing, traditional yet ambitious, closed yet surprisingly welcoming. That complexity makes for better stories than simple exoticism.

Gap in storytelling: So much of Western coverage focuses on politics or economics. Very little captures what it actually feels like to be here as a regular visitor. I wanted to fill that gap with honest, human-centered travel writing.

Personal challenge: I'll be honest—part of the attraction was proving to myself I could navigate a place this different from my background. Travel that challenges you changes you, and I wanted that transformation.

What I Learned

Three years of Saudi Arabia have taught me lessons that extend far beyond travel writing:

Hospitality is universal: Despite cultural differences, the impulse to welcome strangers transcends everything else. I've been invited into homes, offered meals by people who had very little, helped by strangers who gained nothing from it.

Change is messy: Saudi Arabia's transformation isn't a smooth upward progression. It's full of contradictions, setbacks, unexpected consequences. But witnessing change in real-time—even messy change—is a privilege.

Listen more than you speak: I came here thinking I had things to say. The best stories emerged when I shut up and let others talk, when I observed instead of judged, when I admitted I didn't understand something.

Travel writing has responsibility: Every word I write shapes perceptions. That's power, and it demands honesty—acknowledging both the incredible and the problematic, the beautiful and the uncomfortable.

About This Site

Saudi Wanderer started as a personal blog to organize my thoughts and photos. As my writing improved and my understanding deepened, it evolved into something more—a resource for curious travelers, a record of a specific historical moment, and hopefully, a collection of stories that do justice to the places and people who've shared their time with me.

Everything here is based on my personal experience. I don't accept paid placements or write promotional content. When hotels or tour operators have provided complimentary services (which happens occasionally), I disclose it. The opinions, mistakes, and perspectives are entirely my own.

I'm not an expert on Saudi Arabia—experts have spent decades studying this region. I'm just someone who's been paying close attention for three years, making mistakes, asking questions, and trying to write honestly about what I've learned. If you're considering visiting Saudi Arabia, I hope these stories help you prepare. If you're just curious about a country you've only seen in headlines, I hope they offer a different perspective.

What's Next

I'm currently working on expanding my coverage to other Saudi regions—Asir Province in the southwest, the Red Sea coast beyond Jeddah, the Empty Quarter desert. I'm also developing a long-form project about the expat worker communities who make up nearly 40% of Saudi Arabia's population—their stories deserve more attention than they typically receive.

Beyond that, who knows? Three years ago, I couldn't have imagined being here today. That uncertainty, that openness to whatever comes next, is exactly where I want to be.