In the world of giga-projects, it is easy to get hypnotized by zeros. Sixty-three billion dollars—that is the scale of ambition for Diriyah Gate. It is a budget that can build anything, but it cannot buy the soul of a place.

Saudi Arabia is racing against time, trying to stitch ultramodernity with archaic heritage. A question arises that torments investors and conservators alike: how to make these silent, raw walls of mud speak to a generation that views the world through a smartphone filter?

How not to turn the sanctity of history into a garish theme park, while simultaneously not boring the guest with a dusty museum display? Standing at dusk in At-Turaif, the historic heart of Diriyah, tasting the dust and cooling clay, I realized that the answer does not lie in concrete, but in something far more fleeting.

The Sand Remembers Everything Can a place truly haunt you? In the heart of Saudi Arabia, amidst the rising luxury of Diriyah Gate, an ancient silence speaks louder than the bustle of modern Riyadh. It whispers of a forbidden love that defied empires. Discover the legend of Antara and Abla, and find out why the desert is the world’s safest vault for your secrets.

When TIME magazine selected the "AI Architects" as Person of the Year 2025, the dominant narrative was one of technological awe mixed with deep economic fear about the future of work. Yet, if we look past the immediate anxiety of job displacement, we see a profound shift on the horizon for another massive global industry: tourism. The true disruption of AI might not just be in how we work, but in the unprecedented freedom it offers us to explore.

A new "Silk Road in the clouds" is emerging, connecting Saudi Arabia to the world. In a game-changing alliance spanning aviation history and modern ambition, Turkish Airlines will act as the global network manager for the newly formed Riyadh Air. By utilizing Istanbul as a central hub, this partnership grants the Saudi carrier immediate access to a vast global network starting day one in 2025.

This article analyzes the phenomenon of "set-jetting"—travel driven by filming locations—as a cornerstone of South Korea's contemporary tourism strategy. Using the prime example of the Jumunjin breakwater from the drama Goblin, the piece illustrates how storytelling transforms ordinary infrastructure into premium tourist attractions.

Far from being a fleeting viral trend, the surge in tourism is presented as the result of a calculated, decades-long soft power strategy centered on Hallyu (the Korean Wave), amplified globally by platforms like Netflix. Supported by 2024 statistics from the Korea Tourism Organization, the analysis highlights a significant demographic shift: over 35% of visitors are under 30, with "K-content" cited as their primary travel motivator.

The article argues that this shift represents a move toward the "Experience Economy," where tourists seek immersive, narrative-driven experiences over traditional sightseeing, driving regional revitalization and high-margin tourism products. It concludes that investing in pop-culture tourism in Korea is a sound long-term strategy, not a speculative gamble.