Every so often, a story begins in the most unexpected place. For Joshua Van Alstine, it started in a Texas college dorm, surrounded by Saudi students whose kindness and curiosity left a lasting impression. What began as friendship turned into fascination, and eventually into a life few could have imagined.

Online, he became known as American Badu: the blond American who easily spoke Saudi Arabic and understood the culture’s humor, customs, and nuances. His early videos made people laugh, but they also bridged a gap, offering Saudis a reflection of themselves through the eyes of someone who chose to belong.

Since first arriving in the Kingdom in 2012, Joshua has evolved from an online creator into a voice for heritage, ecology, and storytelling. Today, he works with the Royal Commission for AlUla, co-founded the Saudi Arabian Botanical Society, and continues to use narrative to connect people, ideas, and cultures.

This is a story of transformation. Of an outsider who became part of a nation in motion, and of a man who found in Saudi Arabia not only inspiration, but home.

In conversation with Soul of Saudi, Joshua opened up about language, heritage, and how curiosity led him to build a life in Saudi.

1. You’ve made the Kingdom your home, and your work has helped shape its media and cultural landscape. Can you share a little about your journey from the US to Saudi Arabia, and what inspired that profound move?

I first came to Saudi Arabia in 2012. What began as curiosity quickly became a life-changing journey. My roommates were Saudis—they were kind and generous. They did not come from wealthy families, yet they never let anyone they met walk away without something; at least a smile. Not that everything was transactional, but every transaction was beneficial and meaningful.

I was drawn to the Kingdom’s deep sense of heritage and community, and I found myself not just living here but becoming part of the transformation. The people of this country are magnetic. They pull you in with so much lore, history, and stories. It’s a paradise for curious people like myself who want to push the limits of their understanding of the world.

I learned so much about the human condition in Saudi Arabia. Here people don’t just feel—they have feelings. They draw a stark division between what in our nature we can control and what we cannot. Their stories about everything are unhinged and fascinating. Their history is dramatic, and so is their way of telling it. Even within their languages there are so many clues, innuendos, and lore.

Over time, Saudi Arabia became more than a place I came to explore and quench my thirsty curiosity. It became home—the place where I built my family, career, and identity. I didn’t come for work, but I still got so much done.

2. As a co-founder of the Saudi Arabian Botanical Society, you’re helping preserve a vital part of the Kingdom’s natural heritage. What inspired you to dedicate your time and passion to this project, and what does it mean to you personally?

For me, the Saudi Arabian Botanical Society was a way to serve my new homeland. I asked myself: with the limited resources I have, what passion of mine can I harness to make the largest impact? What does my country need from me, and how can I best serve her? The answer was plants.

Flora are part of a very intricate system—you have to understand the soil, the herbivores, the bird migrations, and so many interconnected layers of the environment. I even went into the micro-details of this field because I realized that while so much needs to be done, there is only so much I can do by myself. That’s why I’m grateful for our president and founder, Munira Al Hazani, who gave me the trust and the opportunity to play a crucial role in this NGO—a role I probably wouldn’t have been able to take on anywhere else in the world.

It’s not only about what I did; it’s about being trusted by the system, the people, and the stakeholders. That trust is what makes my contribution meaningful, and what makes this journey so exceptional.

Also, if we are genuinely sharing the land we occupy, don’t we have an obligation to serve that land? To repair that land, even if the damage was not caused by us? Don’t we want to be remembered as foreigners who came and behaved with benevolence while being sustained by the Kingdom’s enormous growth? What better way could I serve this country than by humbly serving even its soil and sand, thorny bushes and prickly palms. I see this country—its flag, the blood of its people—it’s all green. My duty is to be a part of making that green aspiration a reality to the best of my abilities, no matter how humble they may be.

3. You’ve worked on a diverse range of platforms, from radio shows to podcasts. How has the medium of audio—through voice, sound, and music—become a powerful tool for storytelling and cultural preservation?

I think audio is far more versatile than visual. You can listen while you’re driving, cooking, or doing chores—but it’s very hard to watch something while doing anything else. That’s when I realized: while people are physically busy with their hands and eyes, they’re still internalizing what they hear through their ears. It’s not about exploiting a vulnerability, but about reaching that deeper part of a person—what I sometimes call the “inner lizard,” the defining core that responds instinctively to sound.

This is why audiobooks and podcasts are exploding in popularity. They’re flexible, versatile, and effective. You don’t need to schedule time, set up a screen, or even sit still—you just listen whenever. And because of that, audio feels more relatable. Visuals can sometimes intimidate or feel distant from everyday life, but audio slips seamlessly into it. That’s the real power of storytelling through sound.

4. Your work at the Royal Commission for AlUla focuses on telling the stories of one of the world’s most significant cultural destinations. What local traditions or narratives have you been most excited to share with a global audience?

What I love most is giving people perspective on just how ancient this land truly is. The Arabian Peninsula holds stories that go back more than 200,000 years—it’s one of the world’s oldest cultural landscapes. I enjoy uncovering those primordial origins, showing how Arabia has always been a cradle of civilization.

I tell the story of plant domestication here, and of heritage crops like dates, barley, and millet that sustained people for millennia, and I share how the Peninsula can be seen as a “third fertile crescent,” alongside the Nile Valley and the Indus River Valley. Also, I talk about Arabia’s ancient gods, and about how Western thought and religion repeatedly reference this land.

I’m especially passionate about camels. They are not just an icon of Arab identity but a symbol of ingenuity. The Arabs domesticated a massive herbivore in a landscape with limited vegetation. That achievement required profound knowledge of seasons, weather, land, and genetic resources—a kind of “ancient cathedral thinking,” planning across generations.

I also love speaking about Arab contributions to language and culture: how Arabic calligraphy came into being, how Arabic shaped global languages, and how the language itself is like a puzzle—structured, intricate, yet endlessly adaptable. Most importantly, I love showing that Arab peoples are dynamic and diverse. They are not only guardians of tradition; they have aspirations, frustrations, humor, and individuality. In sharing these stories, I want people to see Arabia not as a mystery, but as a place of deep roots and living humanity.

5. You have a remarkable talent for building bridges between the public and private sectors. How do you find that shared mission or “soul” in a project that connects two seemingly different partners?

When I’m matching partners, the most important thing is to understand what values each side brings, what their needs are, and whether their approaches can be harmonized. Sometimes the differences are technical—the way they negotiate, the type of paperwork they use, or the regulations they operate under. That’s why I pay close attention to flexibility, and I always try to understand the BATNA of each team—the baseline level of progress or success that would make the engagement worthwhile for them.

I see my role as analyzing the gaps, both the announced and unannounced ones, and then finding ways to bridge them. Sometimes that even means introducing a third party who can balance both sides.

Partnerships carry special meaning for me because they echo my personal life. My father was American and my mother was Turkish, and I grew up navigating the differences in their ways of thinking. Today I’m married to a Saudi while I’m American, and I continue that tradition of negotiation and harmony. In many ways, my professional life mirrors my personal one: taking different perspectives, values, and approaches, and weaving them into something both sides can embrace.

6. You’re a master at intermixing storytelling into brand strategy. Where do you find that perfect concoction of creative narrative and a clear business objective when designing a new media platform?

For me, the starting point is always the story—because without a story, a brand is just a logo or a product. I ask: what is the narrative we want people to carry with them? Once that story is clear, the business objective falls naturally into place, because people don’t connect with balance sheets—they connect with meaning.

I look for that intersection between emotion and purpose. The creative narrative gives the audience something to believe in, while the business objective gives the platform structure and sustainability. One without the other doesn’t work. A story without a strategy fades; a strategy without a story feels hollow.

I think my strength lies in weaving them together. It’s about taking the cultural DNA of a place, a company, or a project and shaping it into a narrative that audiences can not only understand but feel. And when people feel it, they remember it—and that’s where strategy and storytelling meet.

7. The “AmericanBadu” persona has become a beloved part of your public identity. How has that persona changed since your early days on YouTube to who you are today?

When I first started out on YouTube, AmericanBadu was about discovery. I was documenting my journey as an outsider learning about Saudi Arabia—the food, the traditions, the language. It was raw and personal, and people connected with the curiosity and the humor.

Over time, though, the persona grew with me. I’m no longer just discovering; I’m part of the story now. AmericanBadu has become less about the novelty of an American living in Saudi Arabia, and more about the deeper connections I’ve built here—with the people, the culture, and the land.

Today, AmericanBadu carries a sense of responsibility. It’s about representing the Kingdom authentically to the outside world, while also showing Saudis how their culture inspires someone who chose this place as home. It started as a persona, but over the years it has become a reflection of who I truly am—a bridge between worlds.

8. AlUla’s landscape and heritage are unlike anywhere else. How would you describe the unique energy of the place, and how does it shape the way you approach your work and life day to day?

For me, it’s easy to find fact sheets about AlUla—there’s no shortage of logistical information, statistics, or hard data. But that’s not what defines AlUla to me. What makes it unique is the way it invites quiet reflection.

When I’m there, I don’t just think about my own life; I think about the countless lives that passed through this place over hundreds and thousands of years. Caravans once moved through here carrying languages, stories, religions, gods, products, inventions—even their troubles. All of that history feels present in the air.

And while it might sound cliché to call it “spiritual,” there is undeniably a meditative and tranquil energy to AlUla. It’s a place that doesn’t just tell history; it allows you to feel it, to reflect on it, and to carry some of its stillness into your own life.

9. In your work, you connect with people from all walks of life. What is one misconception about Saudi culture or society that you’ve been able to help change through your media platforms?

A common misconception is that Saudis are somehow “programmed” with a rigid cultural software—that their responses, behaviors, or outlooks are all fixed. In reality, Saudis are extremely dynamic, and very different from person to person.

Yes, there are shared cultural references, overlapping traditions, and familiar ways of greeting or hosting, but that doesn’t mean people are hostages of their culture or bound to react in one predetermined way. Saudis are human beings. Their story is compelling and unique, but their humanity is the same humanity you’d find anywhere else on this planet.

What makes them distinctive is how they approach culture: how they interact with language, how they view nature, how they interpret society—both their own and others’. You see it in their literature, in their culinary appreciation, even in their negotiating styles.

Through my work, I try to show that Saudi Arabia is not a monolith. It’s a society of individuals—diverse, adaptable, and dynamic. And when people realize that, the Kingdom becomes not just understandable, but relatable.

10. As someone who is not a native speaker, you have mastered the distinct Saudi dialect. How has that linguistic journey changed your perspective and helped you build deeper connections within the community?

Learning Saudi Arabic has been one of the most transformative parts of my journey. At first, it was about words—I wanted to communicate clearly. But I quickly discovered that language in Saudi Arabia goes far beyond vocabulary. It’s about rhythm, body language, and shared cultural signals.

I became particularly attuned to things like facial reactions, subtle clicks, neck movements, or the coordination between the mouth and the eyes to signal disapproval, agreement, or even intrigue. These small details are just as important as the words themselves. They carry tone, meaning, and context in ways that textbooks could never teach.

Mastering those elements changed how people interacted with me. Suddenly, conversations felt more natural, more fluid—because I wasn’t just speaking Arabic; I was communicating in a Saudi way. That opened deeper connections, whether in a majlis, a workplace, or a casual encounter. And it taught me that true fluency isn’t only about words; it’s about embodying the culture that carries them.

11. You’ve hosted incredible shows like the Year of the Camel podcast and Artifact. What’s a behind-the-scenes story from one of these productions that captures the magic of what you do?

What most people don’t realize is how much research and human connection go into these programs. For Year of the Camel in particular, I began by interviewing owners, trainers, and vets—but lately I’ve been sitting with the herders themselves, the so-called shepherds. Those conversations start with camels, but they never stay there.

These men share their personal lives with me: the ache of leaving their families behind to work here, the bond they’ve built with the animals. One herder told me he loves the camels more than the sight of his actual family. Another said a she-camel must be magical, because he longs for her when he’s away. Another swore he can understand what they say when they bellow and mumble in their “camely” way.

These are the moments no script could plan. They remind me that storytelling isn’t just about the animal or the race, but about the human heart behind it. It’s in these hours of listening that I realize the real magic of the work: the research gives the story its depth, but the voices of the people give it its soul.

12. The Kingdom is going through a massive cultural transformation. What aspect of this change are you most proud to be a part of?

When I first came to the Kingdom, some people told me that my interest in traditional life was “backward.” They said: “This is the last thing we need—an American lecturing us about the value of our heritage. We want progress. We want industry.”

What I love most about the Vision is that there is room for both. There is room for progress in industry, technology, and innovation—but also space to reignite the bonds that keep the past alive in our hearts and memories. I’m proud of the archaeological preservation and discoveries taking place. I’m proud of the cultural years dedicated to heritage, and I’m proud that the camel has once again been elevated as a proud and haughty symbol of Arabia and the Saudis.

What makes me happiest is seeing people around me becoming curious about the lives of their ancestors—their words, their foods, their way of thinking. I feel truly blessed that God extended my life long enough to witness this transformation. To see a nation embrace both its future and its past at the same time is history in motion, and I’m honored to play even a small part in it.

13. You are a true advocate for natural and cultural heritage. What has been your most rewarding moment so far, whether it was a project coming to life or a message from a follower?

So far, I’m most proud that I’ve been able to contribute across so many initiatives—whether it’s the National Digital Herbarium and the National Native Seed Bank with the Saudi Arabian Botanical Society, or projects like the Camel Museum and the International Coffee Museum through my own commercial work. Each one feels like a piece of a larger picture: preserving, celebrating, and sharing Saudi heritage in its many forms.

What also means so much to me is the recognition I receive from my Saudi colleagues, my family, and even from the international community of expatriates. To be seen as a thought leader on Saudi traditions and history is a badge of honor—but it’s also a responsibility.

People often ask me to keep writing, keep making videos, keep creating more sophisticated forms of content, to appear in articles, documentaries, and even television series. That encouragement humbles me because it reminds me of the weight of the role I’ve taken on. It’s not just about creating content—it’s about faithfully representing the people I love, in a truthful and accurate way. That responsibility preoccupies my intellect and my emotions every single day, and it’s the most rewarding part of this journey.

14. In your work, you often encourage people to connect with their roots. What is one small step that you believe can make the biggest difference in understanding heritage?

I’m a firm believer that identity is fluid. It’s not something locked into an ID card or a passport—it’s shaped by what you connect with most deeply, what you’re passionate about, and what you allow to impact your life. I often encourage people not to get trapped in rigid definitions of who they “should” be, but to explore the cultural influences and histories that resonate with them personally.

I also champion cultural hybrid identities. There’s nothing inauthentic about acknowledging that you’re shaped by multiple traditions, places, or experiences. It’s one thing to falsely claim a heritage that isn’t yours, but it’s entirely another to say, “This is the culture, the story, the music, or the philosophy that moves me—and it’s now part of how I see myself.”

At the end of the day, everyone’s heritage belongs to everyone. The story of the Arabs is also the story of Native Americans, of the Chinese, of the Bantu peoples—because for thousands of years we’ve been connected. What we might think of as quintessentially American may actually have roots in Greece, shaped by Persia, inspired by India, and carried across cultures until it became part of what we recognize today.

So if there’s one small step I encourage, it’s this: approach heritage with curiosity, not walls. Understand your own, yes, but also explore how it connects to others. Because when you see the threads tying cultures together, you start to see humanity itself more clearly.

15. If you could describe your Saudi experience in just three words that capture both life and lifestyle, what would they be and why?

Hospitality, Generosity, Acceptance.

16. Over the last decade, what is one memory—a person, a place, or a simple moment—that made you feel truly at home in the Kingdom? Has the soul of the Kingdom spoken to you?

For me, the person who has most revealed the soul of the Kingdom is my wife, Elham Al Shehri. It would be too simple—even silly—to just say she was my “mentor” throughout the years. The truth is deeper.

Even in my most insecure, uncertain moments while trying to find my place here, she was always there to remind me: “This is a part of you as much as it is anyone else.” Through her, I learned that being Saudi isn’t about paperwork, pedigree, or lineage. It isn’t about eating a certain dish or dressing in a certain way. It’s about carrying the values of these people—loyalty, generosity, integrity—and living them with sincerity.

Elham gave me the confidence to see Saudi not just as a place I live, but as a home whose values I could claim, protect, and embody. That realization was when the soul of the Kingdom truly spoke to me.

The Language that Made a Home

Joshua’s path began with curiosity and grew into belonging. From American Badu to a builder of platforms that honor heritage and land, his work lives at the intersection of story and service. He learned the language, listened to people whose voices rarely make it to the surface, and helped frame Arabia not as a mystery, but as a living, human place.

If there’s a thread running through his journey, it’s this: hospitality, generosity, acceptance—the very words he chose to describe his life here. In Saudi Arabia, Joshua found a home, a purpose, and a voice that now carries the stories of a country he loves.

Follow us on Instagram for daily travel inspiration and untold stories from the Kingdom. Want more? Explore more experiences and stories in our Lifestyle and Wellness category. 
This article is brought to you by Soul of Saudi (a Saudi travel blog dedicated to uncovering the beauty, heart, and soul of the Kingdom).