Into the Desert: Part I

The next morning we visited the mud-brick fortress of Shali, which looms above the town of Siwa like an apparition. Built in the 13th century, it stood up well against the scourges of time, up until the great rains of 1926 did heavy damage (more than any invader throughout history) and washed away like a third of it. It now looks a bit like Dresden in 1945. The houses at the base of the hill are still inhabitable and people live there, have shops and restaurants there.

The highlight of our time in Siwa started that afternoon: our excursion into the desert. At 3pm we hopped into a 10-year old 4WD outside our hotel and they drove us out of town and onto the dunes. As our 55-year old driver took us hurtling through the sand, I discovered that my window did not close, which was unfortunate given that it was a windy day. The first time we stopped I found that my door was bent and would not open unless the driver (directly in front of me) opened his door first. And there were no seat belts. Our driver appeared to be the leader or the most experienced in our small caravan of cars, but he ditched the others and we went off on our own. He would take us criss-crossing up to the top of a dune, pause at the top for a second, and turn around to say something to us in rapid Arabic. While still looking behind him, he would edge over the sand cliff and we’d go sliding down the bank – which often seemed to be near vertical. The Scandinavian girls in our car would scream sometimes.

This “dune bashing” was similar is some ways to our experience in Dubai, but also markedly different. In Dubai, we had youngish 30-somethings driving new SUVs, following each other in a buddy-system caravan. They made sure our seatbelts were tightened before taking off, which they could ask us in English. In Siwa, it was a middle-aged man in a dented, beat-up car, taking us on a “Live Free or Die” joy ride. The only English he seemed to know was “No baby? No problem!” which he repeated a couple times with obvious amusement.

There were no roads, of course, and few obvious landmarks out there surrounded by sand. But somehow our intrepid driver knew where to go. I really don’t know how. We stopped at a few places throughout the day and each of them suddenly loomed before us like a mirage. The mirage-like quality was only enhanced by the sheer unlikelihood of there being a small lake or a hot spring flanked by trees in the middle of sand dunes that extend to the horizon. Our first stop was at the hot spring. Milli and I changed into swim suits in a convenient little building with two changing rooms, and got in the water. It was indeed rather warm, much more so than Cleopatra’s. We talked to an Australian guy who, curiously enough, was in Egypt working for a gold mining company near the Red Sea. Also interestingly, he was traveling with a Muslim Egyptian woman; we doubt that happens too much as it seems like it would be rather scandalous. The drivers of the four cars that were congregated there made us some strong tea.

Our second stop was a cold lake, with reeds growing out of the dunes at the water’s edge. It was strikingly beautiful, especially given its incongruous location surrounded by arid desert. I wish we could post a picture…

After that they drove us “the fossils.” There, in the middle of empty expanses of sand, lay fossilized remains of fish and sea shells! I mean, it makes sense to find a sand dollar in the sand, but usually they’re found in sand within a few meters of the ocean – not hundreds of miles into the desert! Evidently, the desert used to be covered by the Mediterranean in the distant past. Incredible. Unfortunately, all of the easily snatchable shells had already been confiscated by years of visitation, so we have no souvenirs but photographs.