The Egyptian Desert

Instead of turning left to Suez and crossing the canal, our right, southerly route brings us along the shores of the Red Sea. Boulder strewn mountains slope to our right while our left is flanked by the magnificent Red Sea. Straw thatched bungalows decorate sandy shores like a line of diagonally cut sandwich halves. Abandoned umbrellas thatched with straw rest against the sand. Their poles tip to the sky looking like primitive satellite dishes. We speed through the town Mena.

The emerald green coastline seems alive as five inch white waves kiss the rocky shore. After several meters, the depth creates a turquoise layer dividing the clear shores from the majestic blue sea. Each turn provides a fresh look at a sloping finger of a mountain meeting the sea. Our road splits two extremes.

Mountains give way to an extraterrestrial desert. I’m convinced that if I look close enough, I will find the something discarded by NASA. Considering the close proximity of water, it is a wonder there is no vegetation. Perhaps the salinity is very high and all of the top soil has been blown away by the harsh winds currently in our favor.

Tips of lazy tri-blade propellers appear around the next bend. It is a wind farm. The wind is picking up and the blades noticeably gain speed. Road signs rattle to and fro and seem as though they are trying to squirm free from their post. The airborne sand crackles as it passes dry brush and thuds against long abandoned containers.

The increase in wind coats us in sand. It is intrusive; it roosts in our ears, wrinkles—any crevice it can find. Protecting my lips from the sun was a mistake. Lip balm provides a magnetic surface for sand. As I rub my lips back and forth, I can feel the grit of sand.