Sleeping Under the Stars - White Desert, Egypt January, 2008
For many, camping conjures up fond memories of spending time in nature, setting up a campsite, building a fire, roasting marshmallows, and swimming in a lake. For me, this outdoor activity never held any significance until 2008 when a trip to the Egyptian desert – my very first camping experience – changed everything.
In 2007, I decided that in spite of my limited savings, I was itching to hop on a plane and fill a page or two in my passport. I had been overseas before, including family vacations to Lebanon, a 2-week, 12- country whirlwind tour of Western Europe, a visit to Colombia with Colombian friends, and Habitat for Humanity house-building trips to Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Malaysia. Egypt was high on my travel list, as a friend had visited and I was enthralled with her photos and stories of mummies, pyramids, temples and more. I thought about my Dad, in his late 60s at the time, and how, due to his natural curiosity, love of history, and knowledge of current events, he might be interested in joining me. As I had hoped, he enthusiastically agreed, and soon we were off on a three-week journey together.
From the moment we stepped off the plane in early 2008 in the overcrowded, polluted, noisy chaos of Cairo, we experienced one jaw-dropping discovery after another, seemingly around every dusty, history filled corner. We traveled with our tour group from one end of the country to the other, by plane, tour bus, mini-van, overnight train, jeep, sailboat, bicycle, and even by foot, starting in the south, in Aswan, and ending in the north, in Alexandria. On our travels, we also rode on the backs of grumpy camels and forlorn-looking donkeys who seemed unhappy with their lot in life, especially when being hit with sticks by kids hired to round them up and keep them in line, so tourists like us could use them for transport. My donkey, perhaps to express its displeasure, stopped dead mid-way through our ride and lowered its
head, causing me to quickly slide down its neck. I somehow found my balance, landing on my feet on the dirt walkway.
We took in gargantuan and ancient stone temples and obelisks, and impossibly constructed pyramids that have stood for thousands of years and whose feats of construction remain a mystery. We sailed the calm and peaceful Nile, a vital source of water for the lush green landscape and farms that stretched for miles beyond the riverbank. We enthusiastically engaged in hard-core haggling – it’s in our blood - in a variety of shops and markets, including the tourist-friendly Khan Al-Khalili bazaar with its narrow, winding alleys and hundreds of small stores and kiosks selling everything from Middle Eastern spices and food items, to pottery, jewelry and souvenirs. We travelled to the Valley of the Kings, the desert site of ancient royal tombs, going deep underground, navigating narrow and steep stairways to view breathtakingly colourful, but often claustrophobic tombs. We visited the cosmopolitan and historical port city of Alexandria, with its stunning water views and eclectic architecture, including the city’s impressive modern library made of glass and stone. Dad and I were in awe of this country, brimming with history and mystery at every turn. As I had hoped, Dad fully embraced every experience and opportunity, from riding a bicycle for the first time in decades, to getting up in the wee hours for a sunrise hot air balloon ride over the desert.
Towards the end of our trip, our tour group loaded into well-used and banged up Land Rover-style trucks lacking seat padding or shocks, for the journey to our desert destination: the then virtually tourist-free White Desert National Park in western Egypt. True to its name, the area is full of bleached and cream colour limestone hills, mounds, and a variety of other formations, in all shapes and sizes, that look randomly and haphazardly placed. From a distance, the landscape resembles frozen patches of snow and ice, unexpectedly mixed in with desert sand. Created by the effects of wind, sand, and the passage of time, some of the chalky rock formations have smooth contours, but most have rough, uneven, and jagged edges. Located in an area once covered by water, some formations look as if they
were carefully designed and chiseled into shapes such as giant abstract mushrooms and an oversized baby chick.
Being driven in our jeep, we took in this landscape against the backdrop of the vast, dune-filled desert. We stopped late in the afternoon and Dad and I explored on foot, closely examining these miraculous gifts from nature. Dad climbed up a steep mound and posed by the limestone chick, reveling at being in the desert amongst this one-of-a-kind landscape seen only by local Bedouin inhabitants and a limited number of visitors. Since our visit, the White Desert has become a more popular tourist spot, so some areas, including the one with the baby chick, are roped off for protection.
Our desert excursion included a night of camping, and I remembered when booking our trip thinking, “Camping in the desert?” I had never camped before and was unsure of what to expect, so I put it out of my mind until just before leaving for the desert. As a rule, when travelling, Dad and I are up for almost anything. We do draw the line at jumping out of planes and jumping off bridges and sides of cliffs – all things we have seen fellow travellers do. (We also once drew the line at sitting naked with strangers in a Russian sauna, while being hit with a switch. Apparently, it’s good for the skin, but we both politely refused the offer during a later trip to the former Soviet Union.)
Late afternoon, we stopped at a random place next to a large limestone mound, which would serve as our overnight campsite. Our guide and driver prepared our accommodations, expertly pulling out camping gear from the roofs and backs of the jeeps. They set up our “beds”: thick woolen blankets placed directly on the sand, then thinner blankets on top. This was not my image of camping, as there was no tent in sight. Contrary to what many might think, the desert cools down significantly at night, especially in the winter. To protect us from the cold, two sides of our campsite were enclosed with screen-like contraptions held together with ropes and covered with fabric panels in bright, colorful
Middle Eastern motifs, a strong contrast to the sand and limestone landscape. The protective screens, attached to tall rods, were anchored in the sand, providing a cozy enclosure.
We were warned that after the sun set, it would get very dark, so we might want to relieve ourselves. I knew there was no chance I would venture into the dark by myself, so I joined a fellow female traveller to pee behind a large boulder nearby – another first for me. As promised, the temperature dropped quickly and significantly, so we huddled around the blazing bonfire, waiting for dinner, which was comprised of some unknown animal – cow, sheep, or goat. The food was prepared over the fire, then buried in the sand to cook further and simmer. After dinner, we were serenaded with some Arabic songs.
Dad and I soon took our places in our sandy sleeping area. We lay side by side, alongside our travel companions from Egypt, America, Australia, and Canada. Our guide and driver settled in on the edge of our campsite close to the fire to protect us, I assured myself, from any nocturnal desert animals that might stop by. We snuggled under our bed covers, which we realized smelled like they were used mainly to warm farm animals rather than tourists. I looked up at the stars shining clearly and brightly against the black, cloudless sky. The lyrics “Like a diamond in the sky”, from a childhood favorite, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, came to mind. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, I saw even more stars, some bigger and brighter than others, some seeming to flicker. With the fire still burning, I was able to see that Dad was also looking up, clearly impressed with our once-in-a-lifetime bedroom ceiling. His face exposed his awe at this camping experience like no other. “Unbelievable, isn’t it, Dad?” We looked at each other and laughed.
After several minutes of trying to fall asleep, I opened my eyes and saw that Dad was still gazing up at the sky. As I closed my eyes again, Dad’s face in that moment was imprinted on my mind. I thought, “I can’t believe I’m camping in the Egyptian desert with Dad.”
My very next thought: “Where should we travel to next?”
Now, over twelve years later, Dad’s face, full of amazement and wonder, is as vivid in my mind today as it was that night. Our trip to Egypt now represents only the beginning of countless travel memories and experiences Dad and I have shared on our dozen trips together (to date) to far-flung countries, cities, and sites around the world.
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