Medaina Festival, Wadi Rum and Petra

It’s 5:15 am in Jordan when I look up to see the sky slowly swirling from deep navy to soft lavender, before erupting into warm hues of peach and gold. A gentle light spills all over the red rock formations as I stand in the middle of a desert landscape that could quite easily be mistaken for the surface of Mars. And as the crowd around me sways to a sunrise set by Mind Against at the Medaina Festival, for a brief moment, it’s as if I have slipped into an alternate reality. One far away from the weight and noise of everyday life.

Over eight days in May, the Medaina Festival made its debut across Petra, Wadi Rum, Amman, and Aqaba, set in some of the most visually stunning locations imaginable. It quietly transformed my perception of what a music and cultural gathering could be, not just for the Middle East, but on a global scale.

The ambition was clear from the start. Spearheaded by global events collective Tithorea, and supported by Jordan Tourism Board and Royal Jordanian Airline under the creative direction of Melissa Valentina O—known for her work on immersive experiences such as Echoes from Agartha in Turkey and Labryinto in Costa Rica—the festival was never meant to be just another desert rave. With a carefully curated lineup featuring underground heavyweights such as Mind Against, Bedouin, HVOB, Sonja Moonear, and Jimi Jules, and a program that wove together archaeological landmarks, cultural immersion, and culinary traditions, Medaina felt like it was built with purpose at every turn.

But it wasn’t just the curation or programming that set Medaina apart. It was the way everything was layered: the geography, the pacing, and the silence between the sounds. Rather than non-stop revelry, guests were immersed in alternating nights of raving and reflection, with culturally rich daytime programming filling the spaces in between.

Things kicked off in Amman on May 20th, Jordan’s capital—a city where Roman ruins coexist with dusty cafés and upscale hospitality. The opening day served more as a prelude than a performance: guests checked into the Fairmont and slowly eased into the rhythm of Jordanian time. A walking tour through the downtown area, a visit to the Temple of Hercules, and a Lebanese lunch at the locally beloved Enas Restaurant grounded everyone in place and palette before heading south.

By the evening of May 21, the entire group transferred to Petra, settling into Hyatt Zaman—the festival’s exclusive base for the Petra leg. Tucked into the mountains approximately 15 minutes away from the Seven Wonders of the World UNESCO heritage site, the property felt like a natural extension of the terrain. That evening, the opening ceremony took place in Petra’s archaeological core called Little Petra—an impossible scene to replicate or describe. Candlelight spilled across sandstone facades, music cascaded into canyons, and what could have easily been a gimmick became something more meaningful—where electronic music met ancient resonance. The effect was startling. Credit is due to Miss Valentina O, whose thoughtful approach to light design across all three primary venues in Petra and Wadi Rum was nothing short of masterful. Using subtle gradients, strategic lasers, and jewel-toned color palettes, she transformed natural backdrops into technicolor dreamscapes.

There was an inaugural dance performance, an incredible DJ set by Aline Umber, and a beautiful projection of Jordan’s history and beauty cast onto the rocks of Little Petra. 

The following day’s Petra tour extended beyond the expected photo stops. Guests traced the city’s inner valleys, met with families who still call the region home, and shared a midday meal prepared by locals. That lunch, eaten in a local home with hands and flatbread, was as integral to the experience as any headline performance.

Later that night, back at another rocky venue in town, the programming of the Medaina Festival pivoted into performance and provocation. The live club set by HVOB was hands down the best set of the entire festival; the installations, lighting, and multimedia projection explored themes of memory, loss, and reclamation. Everything was intentional—even the shuttle service, which ran into the early morning, so guests could stay deep in the experience without worrying about logistics. It was a bummer Ben Sterling couldn’t make it to the festival for his set, though.

From Petra, the group was transported to Wadi Rum—a Mars-like topography that’s more often seen in sci-fi films such as Dune and Martian than festival flyers. The accommodation called Luxotel was surreal and sustainable. All the guests of the Jordan Tourism Board stayed in domed bubble tents with panoramic skylights, where they had a chance to watch the Milky Way Galaxy while sleeping comfortably in their beds at night.

This was where Medaina turned from deeply cultural to dreamlike. The desert became an instrument—each ridge and dune a natural reverb chamber. Late-night performances near Rayaheb featured sets from the likes of Patrice Bäumel and Jimi Jules, played into the void as stars mapped out new constellations overhead. There were no branded barricades—just open sand, shared space, and deeply considered sound.

The daytime schedule was deliberately left open. Guests took part in safari drives, community lunches with women-led cooperatives, or simply did nothing at all. The pacing here was meditative. Medaina seemed to understand that awe can’t be rushed. 

Still, I would point out that not everything was in harmony. While most attendees were respectful of the region’s cultural context, there were moments where that sensitivity fell short. A handful of guests ignored local norms around modest dress, opting instead for overtly revealing outfits that clashed with the expectations of a conservative region. Jordan’s hospitality is immense, but so is its cultural framework. Festivals in settings like these require an understanding not only of space but of social context. And while this didn’t overshadow the experience, it did spark important conversations around cultural sensitivity in global event tourism.

The final act played out in Aqaba, which I unfortunately missed, but from what my friends told me, guests had the chance to decompress. Boat trips, snorkeling excursions, and spas offered reflection without formality. The Hyatt Regency Aqaba Ayla Resort served as a sanctuary for the week’s end—a space to watch the sun set over the Gulf and let the dust of the past few days settle.

Medaina arrived without spectacle or noise, yet somehow managed to be the most talked-about festival on the regional circuit within days. It did so without corporate banners, mainstream headliners, or compromising the cultural integrity of its locations. Instead, it built something more enduring—an experience that respected its surroundings, prioritized its people, and allowed music to speak in service of something larger than itself. In a time when so many festivals are preoccupied with scale and celebrity, Medaina, titled a “passion project” by its organisers, proved that the most powerful experiences are often the most rooted.