Intro
I recently visited Egypt, where I explored museums and several historical and cultural sites. The sheer amount of information was overwhelming, and I worried that I wouldn’t be able to capture it all in a single blog post. I started thinking that maybe I’d need years of free time—perhaps after I retire—to truly dive into Egyptology. But then, I stumbled upon a small beach town that changed everything. In just three days, Dahab offered me experiences unlike anything I’d had in my 21 years. And so, for now, my post about Egypt will focus on this dreamy town of Dahab.
Background Information
- Location
Dahab (Egyptian Arabic: دهب, IPA: [ˈdæhæb], meaning "gold") is a small town on the southeast coast of the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt, about 80 km (50 mi) northeast of Sharm el-Sheikh. The town is divided into three main areas: Masbat in the north, which includes the Bedouin village of Asalah; Mashraba to the south, a more touristy area with numerous hotels; and Medina in the southwest, home to the Laguna area, renowned for its excellent shallow-water kite- and windsurfing conditions.
- Name Origin
The name "Dahab" is Arabic for gold, possibly referencing the area's geography—gold may have washed down from the desert mountains and accumulated on the floodplain where the town now stands. It might also refer to the golden sands south of the town or the sky’s color just after sunset.
One local story suggests that Dahab’s name comes from floods that pass through the town every five or six years. These floods, caused by larger-than-usual seasonal storms in the mountains, bring down sand that turns the bay a golden yellow. The town is often split in two by these floods, which stir up the sands, a phenomenon that typically lasts a few days. This has historically caused damage and loss of life, but nowadays, locals are prepared when they see clouds over the mountains.
However, the story that resonates most with me—and one I can personally vouch for—is the Bedouin origin of the name. The Bedouins referred to the town as "Waqaat Thahaab" (وقت ذهب), which literally translates to "Time Goes." They believed the town’s peaceful atmosphere made it easy to lose track of time as the days began to blend together. Over time, the name was shortened to "Thahaab" (ذهب), but travelers misinterpreted it as "Dahab."
A Blend of History, Culture, and Tranquility
Dahab, meaning "gold" in Arabic, began as a small Bedouin fishing village on the golden shores of the Sinai Peninsula. Its origins trace back to the nomadic Mezzaina Tribe, who migrated seasonally—spending winters in the mountains and summers by the sea. Dahab’s strategic location made it a crucial stop along migration routes, offering palm groves, a freshwater oasis, and abundant marine life as a sanctuary in the harsh desert.
Despite its isolation, Dahab’s fate shifted during the Israeli occupation of the Sinai from 1967 to 1982. During this time, the Bedouins were introduced to paid employment, healthcare, and education. After Egypt regained control of the Sinai in 1982, the region, particularly Sharm El Sheikh, experienced rapid development as a modern tourist resort. Yet, Dahab managed to retain much of its original charm, becoming a haven for travelers seeking a more laid-back atmosphere.
By the 1990s, Dahab had transformed into a cultural melting pot, attracting European and Israeli hippies drawn to its relaxed vibe. The town grew as a tourist destination, renowned for its world-class diving, windsurfing, and serene environment. Despite the influx of tourism, Dahab has preserved its Bedouin heritage, especially in areas like Assala, where traditional life continues amid modern development.
However, Dahab’s journey hasn’t been without challenges. The 2006 bombing, which claimed 23 lives, was a tragic event that shattered its peaceful image. Additionally, the rapid growth in tourism has led to economic disparities, leaving some locals feeling marginalized and excluded from the prosperity brought by visitors.
Today, Dahab stands as a unique destination on the Sinai Peninsula, blending its rich Bedouin culture with the allure of a tranquil tourist retreat. Its evolution from a Bedouin village to a global destination is a testament to the resilience and adaptability of its people.
My Experience
It all started with a plan to visit Sharm El Sheikh. A week before the trip, I met a girl in Cairo named Enjy—though at the time, I had no idea she would become so dear to me. We hung out a couple of times in Cairo, and when I mentioned my beach trip to Sharm El Sheikh, she told me she had just finished her summer internship and was thinking of heading to Dahab instead. We decided to go together but spent quite some time trying to convince each other to choose the other city. I had never heard of Dahab before, while Enjy went there almost every vacation. Eventually, she agreed to go to Sharm with me, but we still needed to convince her dad. Since it was his first time meeting me, he was understandably concerned about us traveling alone to a city we were both unfamiliar with. So, he said no. Not wanting to go on a beach trip alone, I gave in and agreed to Dahab—and I’m so glad I did.
We embarked on a 10-hour bus journey from Cairo to Dahab. The trip was chaotic—there were no clean bathrooms at the stops, and my headphones broke on the bus. But maybe it was fate because Enjy and I spent the entire trip talking. We unfolded our life stories, and during the stops, we shared experiences that I hadn’t even had with my closest friends—from helping each other in the bathrooms to sharing ice cream at a gas station.
When we finally arrived in Dahab, it was earlier than expected, and our hostel told us check-in wasn’t for another two hours. Starving and tired, we wandered down the Mamsha (the main tourist street in Dahab) looking for a place to eat. I was struck by the unique beach cafes, where people could casually sip coffee at a table and then walk directly into the sea—everything in Dahab opens up right onto the water. We found a spot for breakfast, and as we ate, we poured our hearts out to each other—laughing, crying, and sharing our life’s triumphs and traumas. We even had to gently turn down several kids trying to sell us Dahab’s famous hair braid accessories. After breakfast, we shopped for necessities and bought matching red bucket hats.
As we wandered through the streets of Dahab, I noticed something special about the people there. Everyone seemed to be fully living in the moment. People didn’t care about how they looked—they wore what made them comfortable, whether it was a swimsuit and barefoot, a flowy dress, or shorts and a shirt. They navigated their days with a sense of freedom, enjoying the present without worrying about what awaited them after their vacation. People were laughing, eating, swimming, or simply relaxing—everyone was free from judgment and focused on their own happiness. In Dahab, you’ll find a full spectrum of everything—from clothing to attitudes to activities—and that’s what makes it such a unique and liberating place.
Later on the first day, after checking into our hostel, Enjy and I changed and headed to the beach for some relaxation. When we returned, instead of going to our room, we headed to the hostel’s gathering spot. There, we met up with Enjy’s brother, Adham, and some of his friends. We made coffee and sat by the pool, and every few minutes, a new person staying at the hostel would join us. We met people from all over the world—Switzerland, Canada, Australia, the UK, Ukraine, and various parts of Egypt. Eventually, we went up to our apartment, where more people joined us. We spent the evening talking, taking turns showering, sharing our things, laughing, eating, and just chilling on the small sofa or the floor. Most of the group went to karaoke that night, and I joined them later.
On the second day, Enjy and I were determined to wake up early for the hostel’s free breakfast, but we ended up oversleeping. Instead, we went to a local bakery for breakfast and spent the day tanning and listening to music. We also ended up snorkeling, thanks to some random professionals who offered to show us how. One thing I noticed in Dahab was that I almost never used my phone—except for music. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to use it; I just completely forgot about it. Later that night, Adham and his friends joined us at the beach. We hung out, grabbed some food, and walked back to the hostel, where we shared our meal with the others at the pool hangout spot. People were chatting in different groups, and in ours, Adham and a cool American guy named Usayd were working on an Arabic-English song mashup while playing the ukulele. I didn’t vibe much with Usayd then, but we became really good friends when I met him again in Cairo. Finally, that night, Enjy and I went back to our room, showered, ordered burgers, and watched Rick and Morty until we fell asleep.
On my last day, we woke up late again and missed the free breakfast. We were determined to check out Sharm El Sheikh that day, particularly the famous Farsha Café. It turned out to be less of a hotspot and more of a sticky, crowded place. We got ready and took a bus to Sharm, where we made it to Farsha Café after getting scammed several times along the way. We waited a lot but eventually got a spot with a good view. Unfortunately, I had to leave early to catch my flight back to Cairo. My flight was delayed for three hours, but at least the airport was comfortable. While waiting, I met two cool people, including Amr, with whom I clicked instantly. I have a feeling he’s going to be a great friend for a very long time.
As I boarded the plane back to Cairo, I realized that while my time in Dahab had come to an end, the memories and the sense of peace I found there would stay with me long after the journey home.
Resources
Personal Experience
Websites
Papers
"Employment in a Bedouin Community: The Case of the Town of Dahab in South Sinai," by Heba Aziz
KM, till next time! <3
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