We crossed the border into Egypt three weeks ago but we haven't moved far. Right now, in fact, although we're 600km away from Salloum by road, as the crow flies to the nearest point, we're just 80km from the Libyan border. The only thing between us is the Great Sand Sea, a desert so impenetrable it once swallowed an entire Persian army, never to be seen again. (This doesn't seem to stop the smugglers, who carry a steady stream of cheap goods across from Libya daily.)
On our first morning in Egypt, after sleeping the night at the border, much to the amusement and confusion of the guards, we descended early from the cliff into Salloum: this has to be one of the most dramatic, stunning entrances to any country. Before long we'd picked up a couple of surly hitchhikers who took us to Agiiba Beach. Both Huw and I were hugely impressed by the water’s obscene shade of turquoise – but less so by the litter that sadly scattered the sand and sea. Huw’s love of alliteration is clearly rubbing off on me. We were totally voyeuristic. Hoards of families from Egypt and Libya clung to the shore, taking so many posed photos of each other they forgot to have fun. One particularly aesthetically-challenged brood waddled by, prompting a classic Huwism: “The gene pool is so shallow, the sperm broke its neck when it jumped in.” God love him.
The next few days were spent at Marsa Matruh, a place that really only deserves one night. Packed with Egyptian and Libyan tourists in the summer, it feels like Clacton-On-Sea or Blackpool, or Rhyl or Barry, just with significantly less flesh. But apart from the headscarves and head-to-toe body stockings that the ladies swim in, much is the same: it seems humans are pre-programmed to 'do holidays' the same way the world over. Shops are crammed with inflatable animals, polyester clothing, bad fast food. Candyfloss sellers parade the beach, fat kids eat ice creams, fairground music blasted til the wee hours. Families, unused to spending so much time together, get irritable.
I genuinely can't remember why we spent so long there, besides the fact that we got to hang out with some very nice people (Hany Joseph from the nearby hotel, Ahmed the toilet attendant and his kids, Paolo the philosopher from the beer shop, Mustafa from the Vodafone shop) and that we needed to get the wheels balanced to stop the 'wheel wobble' that had started to happen whenever we hit 70km/h.
The day we intended to escape from the dodgy fairground rides and bickering families, disaster struck: we were blocked in by badly parked cars all day, with no chance of moving the truck. Initial frustration that we had to spend one more night in this neon hellhole quickly dissipated with a nice fish supper, a shrug of the shoulders, and a declaration that 'hada mektoub' - it is written/destiny. We'd be on the road the next day, at 5am to avoid the heat, heading south to the mystical Siwa Oasis.
Route, photos and more at www.thelongandwinding.co.uk
