Dahab is a unique place on the Sinai coast. It is also touristy in its way, but caters to a different crowd. Part of the Middle East backpacker’s circuit, it has its share of dope-smokers and hippies, but also has some incredible underwater dive attractions. A former Bedouin fishing village, it has at least a little character in addition to tourists.
I hired a private car for the 100km drive from Sharm to Dahab, which was a pretty spectacular drive. He dropped me off at one of the larger “camps” which cater to backpackers. I got a tiny private room with shared shower, laundry and cooking areas. After walking around, however, I found a brand new hotel on the northern edge of town. It was simple, but comfortable and a lockable room appealed, so I moved in there instead. It was almost deserted and had a dive shop in back that was equally new and deserted. It was run by a young Italian couple who were employees of the hotel. They had not yet been to many of the local popular dive spots, either, but had a driver who knew them, so, as their only customer, we spent the next few days exploring together.
Among some world class dive sites, the biggest attractions are the Blue Hole and The Canyon, the former being know as one of the world’s most dangerous dive sites. I dove both, as well as other “dangerous” dive sites, no worse for the wear. The local geography is a very narrow desert strip with impressive mountains jutting up sharply just behind. The underwater topography is similar, with steep craggy slopes descending quickly to depths that can be dangerous.
Before I hooked up with the Italians, I did one dive with another local shop. They trucked about eight of us to the site and off we went with a dive master “guide.” I was paired up with a diver who was so bad that I spent the entire dive slight above and behind him, one hand pushing down on his tank which was the only thing that kept him from shooting dangerously to the surface. The guide noticed, but had to keep the group going. He later felt badly and refunded my money. The rest of my dives with with the Italians.
Dahab is, or at least was, somewhat magical in its simple beauty. There were no posh hotels or fancy restaurants. The beach along the bay is lined by small shaded lounges with carpets and cushions. These are the dining areas of the restaurants, the kitchens for which are slightly back from the beach, on the other side of a small dirt road. You simply sit in one of the available seats and a server wanders across to the road from the kitchen to take your order or bring you food. The food is simple, filling, and cheap. At night each dining area is lit by small lights, funky music plays, and the entire lagoon takes on a magical appearance.
From a letter written at the time:
Dahab is, quite possibly, the strangest place I’ve ever been. It is a “backpacker’s” haven and most of the accommodations here are “camps,” which are groups of little thatch roof huts, a common shower and kitchen, etc. I took an actual room at one of these camps, but moved to a hotel. The camp room had no A/C, no fridge, no TV, no towel and, worse, no buttwipe. It was 25 LE or about $7/35. The hotel room is in a brand new facility and, though small, has most amenities for $30/night. As near as I can tell, it’s the only real hotel in town.
The “town” is a single strip along the beach. Picture an Egyptian renaissance fair mixed with San Francisco in 1967. Bedouin-style tents with cushions on the ground like the beach, bunched right up against each other blaring everything from Led Zep to Santana to Bob Marley to Enigma. They serve beer and food there, but runners bring it from across the street.
On the other side of the (dirt) street are pubs, shops, and markets selling most anything. Marijuana is freely available and I’ve been told acid can be bought. Dogs, cats (lot of them), goats and sheep run wild in the street. Camels and horses are tied up in several places, available for hire. But for the Coca-Cola signs and boom boxes, I don’t imagine this place looks radically different than it did 500-600 years ago.
Food here is very cheap. For lunch today I had a place consisting of falafel, a fried egg, fries, tabouli, and a bowl of lentil soup with a liter of water. This cost 12 LE or about $3.50.
One of the coolest moments of my trip occurred in Dahab. Our previous dive had been pretty deep so, even after riding in the jeep to another beach location, we had some time to kill, lest we be killed by arterial gas embolism (aka “The Bends”). We set out some mats under palm trees at the remote beach, ate the lunch we had brought along, and thought we would take a little nap in the warm noonday heat. A Bedouin family was having a little picnic nearby and their snot-nosed little boy (honestly, he had snot coming out his nose!) wandered over to gawk at our gear. His older sister was sent over to retrieve him from being a pest, but not before he turned the valve on a scuba tank, scaring himself pretty well with the blast.
Shortly the sister came back with a pewter tray on which were small glasses of mint tea. I’m embarrassed to say that my first thought was that this was yet another money-making scam. It was not. It was genuine Bedouin hospitality. She left the glasses with us, coming back fifteen minutes later with the tray to collect them.
Offered mint tea by Bedouins under palm trees on a deserted beach in the Sinai with large mountains looming dramatically nearby and sounds of the cobalt-blue ocean gently lapping the shore. It doesn’t get much cooler than that.
