 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
An imam calls out in the darkness, beckoning to prayer at 4:30 am. I lie in the bed in my tent and listen to the waves of the Red Sea brush the shore in front of my door. An hour later the sun rises. The sky blushes a faint pink, then lights up in a rosy glow in celebration of a new day in Egypt.
I am in the area of Marsa Alam, three hours drive south of touristy Hurghada. Here is quiet, just people intent on swimming, snorkelling, diving, meeting dolphins, sea turtles, corals and fish. No loud music, no partygoers. Not much of anything on land, really, except endless desert. The attractions are submerged in the clear, aquamarine water.
Driving on the main road is like driving though a quarry. We meet several trucks with camels gazing serenely at the landscape, ignorant of the fact that they are on their way to Cairo to become dinner for somebody. My driver takes me to a boat that will sail me out to the star attraction: the spinner dolphins. Another day we go looking for sea turtles and dugongs. The time in between is spent snorkelling along the coral reefs.
Then the sun goes down with a flourish in a shameless burst of colour, turning the clouds as red as cotton on fire. Shortly thereafter the full moon rises from behind pastel-coloured clouds. When the sun is completely gone the moon casts its silvery light on the water and the sand.
