Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque
The courtyard is the part to stand still in: a field of white marble inlaid with vines and flowers in coloured stone, cool underfoot at any hour of the day. The pools outside hold the whole building upside down.
The collection
Arabian Gulf · A capital with the Empty Quarter behind it
The slip face of a dune gives way under a boot and the sand slides out ahead with a sound in it, a low note felt through the feet before it is heard — which is why this desert was said to sing for centuries before anyone could account for it. The last streetlight is ninety minutes behind you. By morning every ridge has been recombed and your own tracks are gone.
Abu Dhabi is eighty-seven per cent of the country it governs, and almost none of that is city. The island itself was a fishing and pearling settlement around a watchtower built over a well in the 1760s, and it stayed one until 1958, when the drills found what was under the seabed — so everything on the Corniche is younger than the people who remember it being sand. What that money did here is worth noticing, because it is not what it did forty minutes up the coast: a great mosque with eighty-two domes and a carpet that took two years to knot; a Jean Nouvel museum sitting under a dome that leaks light like a palm canopy; a presidential palace opened to anyone who buys a ticket. And then the road runs south-west, and keeps running, and the Liwa begins — the northern edge of the Rub' al Khali, the largest continuous sand desert on earth, with dunes three hundred metres high and nothing on them. That is the emirate: a capital that behaves like a capital, and behind it, an hour and a half in, the oldest silence in Arabia.
The courtyard is the part to stand still in: a field of white marble inlaid with vines and flowers in coloured stone, cool underfoot at any hour of the day. The pools outside hold the whole building upside down.
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Ras Al Akhdar, West Corniche
A palace built for heads of state, opened as a hotel, with a kilometre and a half of its own beach in front of it.
A low town of white blocks on Saadiyat with the sea running between them, all of it under a dome that breaks the sun into a scatter that moves across the floor. The rooms are hung by century rather than by country.
The white fort the island grew around, raised over a freshwater well when this was a pearling settlement. Two centuries of rebuilding are legible in the walls, and the inner tower is the oldest stone standing here.
Neither a museum nor a house but a palace of state: a great hall under a dome of white geometry, and a library of Arabic manuscripts on navigation, medicine and the movement of the stars.
An hour and a half inland, date palms in ranks over square kilometres, watered by falaj channels that have run from the mountain for thousands of years. The temperature drops the moment you are under the canopy.
The mountain on the Omani border, climbed by a road of long switchbacks to a summit with Al Ain laid flat below it. At its foot stand beehive tombs from the Bronze Age, which took their name from this hill.

Liwa, the Empty Quarter
A fort of turrets and courtyards on a ridge in the Rub' al Khali, two hours past the last roundabout.
Saadiyat Island
Saadiyat's own protected beach runs 9 kilometres past the resort's front door.
Saadiyat Island
306 rooms, suites and villas on Saadiyat Island, and a private pool on several of them.
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A short list of extraordinary places to stay.
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