There is something special about it, the Red Sea, that I have not found anywhere else on the planet. Granted every destination has its own, but here there is this special ambience of timeless mystique, of remoteness and rugged adventure that just hangs thick in the atmosphere with a whiff of historical greatness and millenias past, topped up with a scent of spices and a distant smell of charcoal from a campfire, or perhaps a sisha—a waterpipe. Once you get past the sprawling resorts that now send their sprouting tubers and seeds out along the barren coastline—yes, they do market this place aggressively as the “Red Sea Riviera”—you suddenly find yourself in a land where time just seems to cease to exist. The sun wanders across the sky, so does the moon, but what day is it? Out in the desert, who cares? Who is there to care anyway, save for a few scattered Bedouins?