An Athenian Diary
An Athenian Diary
38
The Athenian Diary Goes Back to Egypt
The Western Desert
March 19-31, 2004
While I was in Egypt the first time, I happened upon a book called The Western Desert of Egypt. An Explorer's Handbook, by Cassandra Vivian (Cairo 2003). The Nile valley, where the vast majority of the Egyptian population lives, forms a narrow ribbon through the middle of the country (actually shifted rather to the east). On both sides of the valley, which is sometimes as narrow as a couple of kilometers, stretch vast reaches of desert -- in the east, the Eastern (or Arabian) Desert, and on the west (and by far the larger; at 700,000 km2, it covers two-thirds of Egypt) the Western, or Libyan, Desert -- one of the two major components of the Sahara Desert, which covers North Africa from the Atlantic to the Red Sea, an area approximately equal in size to the entire continental United States. Compared to the crush of tourists crowding the extraordinary monuments of the Nile valley, which we saw on our first trip to Egypt, the Western Desert is relatively unvisited. Yet it offers both some remarkable archaeology -- especially in the form of Roman forts -- and some of the most extraordinary scenery in Egypt, for the desert is spotted with oases -- greater or lesser pockets of water and arable land, which have supported human population for thousands of years (indeed the Fayum, which we visited before -- and which some do not count as a "real" oasis because the Nile is the source of much of its water -- was inhabited before the Nile valley itself).
What is the desert?
The usually accepted definition of a
"desert" says that a desert is a region whose average annual rainfall is less
than 10 inches. By this definition, much of Antarctica is desert -- good enough,
but most of us, I reckon, associate deserts not just with aridity, but also with
heat.
The
Western Desert of Egypt qualifies thoroughly on both points. It is very, very
dry -- receiving less than 80 mm of rain per year on average, and in many years
there is no rainfall at all -- and can be very, very hot -- it is geographically part of the
Libyan Desert (the eastern portion of the Sahara), which boasts the highest
recorded natural temperature on earth, 136 degrees F. We also probably associate
deserts with sand; this image is only partly accurate with respect to the
Western Desert. Part of it -- a huge part, 600 km long and 250-400 km
wide -- is completely covered by dunes; this Great Sand Sea, the edges of which
we skirted, is one of the most inaccessible and inhospitable places on earth.
But much of the Western Desert is simply flat, rock-strewn, vegetation-less
stretches of low hills and empty vistas. Back in the 1980s NASA commissioned a
study of part of the Western Desert in an effort to model the geology and
topography of Mars.
What is an oasis?
Those of you of a certain age will
remember the Maria Muldaur song, "Midnight at the Oasis," with its romantic, Orientalist
imagery ("Midnight at the oasis, send your camels to bed; you won't need no
harem, honey, when I am by your side"), conjuring up lush palm trees and
fresh water, surrounded by sandy wastes. Imaginary or not, in some ways the
picture is not too far off -- the center of big oases like Bahariya and Siwa
really are delightful preserves in the midst of the desert, refuges of palms and
water (and mosquitoes, alas). Camels
do browse the fields. But the oases are more than these images. They are the
result of geology -- regions of the desert lower than typical, so that
the ground water that flows under the western Sahara, especially through the
Nubian sandstone formation, is close enough to the surface to emerge through
natural springs or to be accessed by wells. (Pumps aren't needed because the
water is under enough pressure to flow abundantly to the surface once tapped.)
But the groundwater hasn't always flowed at the same rate or in the same
abundance. Some of it results from precipitation in central Africa which moves
north and east, discharging ultimately into the Nile or the Mediterranean, but
some is charged into the aquifers via rain and dew locally, and these reserves
can be depleted rapidly. Studies in the Kharga Oasis by French researchers have
revealed a rhythm of abundance (relatively speaking) and drought; the second of
three post-glacial optima for the aquifers corresponds to the greatest
occupation of the oases in the Ptolemaic and Roman periods (roughly 300 BCE to
600 CE). Today the oases are experiencing another optimum, but one dependent on
much deeper wells than in the past and which is using up saved water at a much
higher rate. (These wells, which may create little mini-oases, have been given
numbers rather than names; "Bir Wahid"
only
sounds exotic until you learn it means "Well One.")
The geology that makes water
accessible also means that a typical "oasis" is much larger, with more varied
topography, than the image suggests. An oasis is bound by an escarpment -- a
cliff, where the topography breaks between the lower oasis floor and the higher
desert floor. Sometimes masses of sand pour down the edge of the escarpment, and
you can climb from the oasis floor to the higher desert on a slope of sand.
Within the oasis, you can have -- besides the classic picture of palms and water
-- areas of pure desert, sand dunes, agricultural fields (sometimes surrounded
by sand), groves of dead palms buried in moving sand (more on this later), and
all kinds of other things. The human population tends to cluster around the
water, in larger towns -- Bawiti, Kut, Kharga -- or smaller villages. When the
water gives out, people move -- sometimes only a few hundred meters, as at Qasr
in Dakhla, abandoned when its wells dried up in favor of another, watered site
virtually right next door.
The oases of the Western Desert
There are five major oases in the Western Desert. Siwa, the most remote, is also one of the most beautiful, and today probably the most touristed, because it has famous archaeology (a temple that Alexander the Great visited) and lies easily accessible from the popular resorts of the Mediterranean coast. Next south lies Bahariya, perhaps my favorite. Then comes Farafra, which segues (via the White and Black Deserts) into Dakhla and the largest of the oases, Kharga. But there are also many smaller oases, most now uninhabited, some of which we visited.
History and archaeology
Unlike on the Nile, the monuments of the Western Desert mostly not stone but mudbrick (joke for Zoe -- you now have enough pictures of mudbrick to show your students new ones without repeating yourself till you retire). Some are nevertheless spectacularly well-preserved, but many have suffered the fate of a construction material that doesn't do well in rain. The oases have preserved little evidence aside from some tombs of occupation during pharaonic times. The most extensive early evidence for human activity comes from the Persian period; the temple at Hibis in Kharga, and very probably (I think) the qawanat (underground aqueducts) demonstrate important efforts by the Persian rulers of Egypt to assert control over the oases. After the Persians (I simplify some here), Alexander the Great took Egypt. He visited the temple of Amun in Siwa, where the god gave oracles; Amon told Alexander -- so the sources tell us -- that he was the son of Zeus, i.e., Amon himself. Amon also told Alexander not to return by the coast, and so he marched through the desert and founded a temple at Bahariya. (The notion that Alexander was buried at Siwa, bruited recently in archaeological circles, has since been discredited.) After Alexander's death Egypt fell to one of his generals, Ptolemaios, who founded the dynasty that ended with Kleopatra VII. Like their pharaonic predecessors -- whose attitudes, garb, and role the Ptolemies adopted, at least in their self-representations to the Egyptian population -- the Ptolemies left relatively little evidence in the oases of their rule (again, tombs). Egypt fell to Roman control after the defeat of Antony and Kleopatra in 31 BCE, and it was the Romans who really made their mark on the oases, in the form of tombs, forts designed to protect important trade routes like the Darb el-Arbein, and temples. Christianity, which became the official religion of the Roman empire in the early fourth century CE, was not slow to penetrate the oases, which also served as places of exile for losers in religious conflicts. (A bishop of Alexandria spent almost thirty years in exile in various of the oases.) Christian churches, monasteries, and cemeteries can be seen all over the Western Desert. Another dry spell hits with the end of Roman authority and the beginning of Muslim rule (perhaps to be attributed to the changes in water budget mentioned above rather than disinterest in Cairo).
Arabic language
I came quickly to love the rhythms of Egyptian Arabic, which are slow compared to Greek, much (to my ear) like the rhythms of American English. I found that once I learned a word I could recognize it always in overheard conversations, and sometimes I could even follow conversations, or rather parts of conversations, more or less. This after only a few days in Egypt (and with help from my guides on my first trip and this one).
My companions
This time Edie and the kids couldn't
come (and the trip would have been too hard for the kids; we often were going
from 8 am to 8 pm, and spent many, many hours in the car -- the distances are
deceptively far, and the roads often bad, or non-existent). To make the trip
affordable, we needed four. I found two at the American School. Zoe has been
working at the School on her dissertation; she was ready, I think, for some time
away from it, and from Athens.
Eph
was a regular member (that is, doing the School program this year). His dad was
an airline pilot, and he had taken advantage of the cheap tickets to travel
extensively as a teen and young adult; he also fished professionally in Alaska
for three summers. Our third came to us through a strange concatenation of
circumstances. As a contributor of a few small entries to a forthcoming
reference book from Cambridge University Press, I had occasion to communicate
with an editor there, Caroline. This was just as we three were looking for a
fourth. When she mentioned her love of travel, I proposed her joining our group.
She couldn't -- her husband couldn't get away from work -- but she passed the
offer on to her daughter's steady, who jumped at the chance -- and so we met
Jimmy, who turned out to be not only delightful but Eph's soul mate.
Schedule
As with our first trip, I have divided this one up into stages, linked to the headings below. Even so, the pages are large, the pictures many; be patient when loading!
March 19, Friday. From Cairo to Bawiti in the Bahariya Oasis
March 20, Saturday. Around Bawiti in the Bahariya Oasis
March 21, Sunday. From Bahariya to Our First Campsite, Near Sutra
March 22, Monday. From Our Campsite to Siwa Oasis.
March 23, Tuesday. Around Siwa
March 24, Wednesday. From Siwa to Our Second Campsite, Again Near Sutra
March 25, Thursday. From Our Campsite, Back Through Bahariya, to Our Third Campsite in the White Desert
March 26, Friday. From Our Campsite to Qasr in the Dakhla Oasis
March 27, Saturday. From Qasr to the Kharga Oasis
March 28, Sunday. Around Kharga
March 29, Monday. From Kharga to the Farafra Oasis
March 30, Tuesday. From Farafra to Our Fourth (and Last) Campsite, off the Bahariya-Cairo Road
March 31, Wednesday. From Our Campsite to the Cairo Airport; Home to Athens
* * * * * * *
The trip we didn't take
Our original plans included a run
along the Mediterranean coast from Alexandria to
Mersa Matrouh,
including a visit to the
World War II battlefield of El-Alamein, from where we would have
driven south to Siwa; and a long run south from Kharga to
Abu Simbel via the Darb el-Arbein, the slave route that ran from
Sudan to the Nile at Asyut. The first part had to be struck from the schedule
because of time, leaving me in the ironic position of still not having visited
Alexandria, the great Hellenistic and Roman capital of Egypt (about which I am
planning a course). The second we lost because of sand -- dunes had swamped the
road, which the Egyptian government closed not long before our arrival until a
new road could be built around the dunes. (This is not an unusual problem; the
main road between Dakhla and Kharga oases was likewise swamped a few years ago;
you can stand on the offending dune and look down on the pitted old asphalt
surface as it vanishes beneath tons and tons of sand.)
Where we stayed and who helped us
As before, I flew from Athens to Cairo by Egypt Air. Incredibly, my flight to Egypt arrived almost a full hour ahead of schedule!
I met Amgad Ali Hassan
in Cairo
during our first trip; his eyes lit up when he saw Vivian's book in my hands,
and talked rapturously of the wonders of the Western Desert. When the time came
to plan the trip, I turned naturally to him. He did not disappoint. He arranged
a truly memorable journey, packing an incredible amount of things into our two
weeks in the desert. You can get him by email, or by mail at Cairo Head Office,
11 Eisawi El Guioshy Street, Giza, Egypt. He's a font of information about the
Western Desert, where he has led tours for many years, and an indefatigable
companion -- unlike the rest of us, he never seemed to get tired!
We got around in a Toyota 4x4 (two,
actually, consecutively), but the Toyota would have been useless without Hamada
Marzouk Homidaty.
A native of the Bahariya oasis, Hamada had mastered all the
skills you need in the desert -- he was a magnificent and skillful driver who
took us safely through sandy wastes and along endless stretches of empty road,
and, when we camped (as we did four times) proved himself an equally skilled
cook. He also invited us to lunch at his house in Bawiti, where we ate like
royalty and met his family. His family runs Desert Friends -- the Western Desert
Experts, who specialize in desert camping trips around the Bahariya oasis. You can get him by email, too.
The very best accommodations we had
in the trip were under the stars of the desert,
our
beds cushioned by soft sand. Next thereafter came the hotels -- which were not
all of a piece. I list our accommodations below, with such information about
contact as I have, and my personal comments (which do not necessarily reflect
the views of my companions).
In Cairo we stayed in the Cosmopolitan Hotel, located at 1, Ibn Taalab Street off Kasr El Nil. Unfortunately I didn't take any pictures of this slightly run down and absolutely delightful Victorian/Art Deco construction, located just off a main street.
Our hotel in Bahariya, where
we spent two days (March 19-20), was the International
Hot Springs Hotel, host Peter Philipp Wirth.
Peter
is an expatriate German (speaking excellent Arabic, of course) who has made a
life for himself as a hotelier here in the desert. His hotel features a pool fed
by a hot spring (with high iron and sulfur content, as with all water in the
Western Desert), extraordinarily refreshing after a long dusty day in the car.
The modestly appointed canteen serves excellent food (but no one can go wrong
eating Bahariya rice), and the rooms were pleasant, with hot showers. Peter's
Japanese wife sells in the lobby baskets and woven goods produced for her by
girls in Bawiti. Peter is well-liked locally. As in all the oases, however,
beware mosquitoes.
In Siwa we stayed for two
lovely nights (March 22-23) in the Siwa Safari Paradise Hotel (contact by email or phone: 046-460-1590).
This was by far my favorite hotel -- the rooms were modest but comfortable (my
companions
were however plagued by mosquitoes, which drove far down their rating), the
staff helpful and (so far as one can judge these things) happy. But for me two
features stood out. Our first night we enjoyed a delightful "traditional" Siwa
dinner, cooked fresh as we watched, in the outdoor restaurant (the picture of
my companions above was taken that night); they even cooked the bread right in
front of us, and we ate it so hot out of the oven, puffed up with air, that I
burned by lip biting into it! Just as delightful, for me, was the location --
right downtown, two minutes walk from the central square and the melting old
town of Shali. You could go out and see the town, shop (I bought delightful
baskets there), mingle with the locals. For me a highlight of the whole trip.
At Qasr in Dakla we spent a night (March 26)
at the Desert Lodge Hotel -- a folly of sorts on a hill overlooking the town, product
of Swiss investors through a travel bureau called Sina Oriental Tours, whose hearts were in the ecologically right
place,
for they built it with solar heated water and traditional cooling methods
(though without eschewing finally air conditioning). The hotel is modeled on the
abandoned Qasr that lies below, with mud brick walls, arches, and other design
factors meant to replicate the feel of the old caravan town (which can be seen
in the photo to the left). But the location way up on the hill made me feel like
a soldier in an army of occupation, commanding a good view from a defensible
point, and kept isolated from the corrupting influences of the natives below.
The food was pretty wretched -- dinner unmemorable, breakfast featuring dried
out tomatoes (a vegetable otherwise absolutely exquisite when bought in the
markets -- I hypothesize that these big hotels must have someone on staff whose
sole task is to seek out the hard-to-find inedible ones in the thousands and
thousands on sale every day). The hotel's manager, a rather scary, partly
toothless fellow who regaled us with stories of camel caravans in the olden
days, pressed me to write his bosses flattering emails in exchange for helping
me find internet access when I very much needed to check for an important
message. The others liked the place, but you'd never catch me there again.
Our hotel in the Kharga Oasis was the
extraordinary, preposterous
Sol y Mar Pioneers
(March 27-28). Within its precinct it is impossible to tell where you are -- this big pink pile
could be in Scottsdale, Arizona, as easily as the Egyptian desert. The
soullessness that robs it of all identity extends to most aspects of its
services. The food is terrible -- as in most "luxury" hotels in my experience;
the service slow and iffy, though you cannot really blame the staff, some of
whom are paid as little as 140 Egyptian pounds, about $24, a month. The contrast
between that pay scale and the cost of the rooms makes it morally
unconscionable, as well as completely uninteresting, to stay there.
At Farafra we had a night (March 29)in the Aqua Sun. The model here is "country-club prison." It stands in the desert five or six kilometers out of town, way too far to walk, and of course there's no transportation -- so you're stuck there. The idea -- that the hotel will satisfy all your needs, a basic postulate of upper-end tourism -- doesn't quite match the reality. There's a pool fed by a hot spring, but it hadn't been cleaned recently (there were all kinds of weird scummy things floating around in the water); somebody forgot to provide the pool with a ladder, which would have made getting in and out a challenge for the older guests who populated many of the fancier hotels we stopped at; the workout equipment nicely provided poolside was unfortunately exiled to a corner behind the pool, accessible only by a ledge a few inches wide between pool and wall; when I went down for breakfast, not a soul was to be found. (Had we been in town I could simply have wandered out the door to a cafe for my morning coffee.) The owners of this hotel, who also run a hotel on the Red Sea, offer desert camping and exploring services that look professional from their web site, but one shudders to read of their plan to convert tourists into "archaeologists" looking for the lost army of Cambyses.