Village of Balat

 The beautiful Islamic village of Balat was built during the time of the Mamluks and Turks and serves as a good example of mud architecture.  People and livestock continue to inhabit the village but our guide happily led us through their homes and up onto their rooftops.  We passed through one persons’ home as he was having a nap.  He simply opened his eyes to check us out then went back to his rest.

I absolutely loved walking through these corridors and would have been happy to spend more time exploring.  Everything is so soft and organic.  There were many more colourful doors and windows to contrast with the mud.  I really liked some of the wall paintings that remind you of the history of the area.  Boats would have been a common part of life in this area.  On all of my visits to the Western Desert I have spent a lot of time picking up shells and fossilized coral, water plants, and clams.  It is very evident that this region was once under water but when you see the human evidence of it, it somehow doesn’t seem so remote.  History aside, my own exploration and sense of timelessness here really made me feel like a child again.  Not to mention my mischievous companions.



When in Dahkla stay at the Bedouin Camp El Dobous Village.  It is a lovely site with a hot spring, good food, and great hospitality.

Surprise Encounter

I ran into these girls and their mother early one morning.  Going for a walk near the hot spring we had bathed at the evening before I just followed what appeared to be a path for livestock.  As I was passing a couple of mud structures a couple of men called out. They surprised me as I thought I was alone but then I realised that I had surprised them too.  I didn’t stop to chat as I had the sense, due to some grown man giggles, that I had passed at an inopportune moment.  At the same time a woman up the path turned to see what had startled them and I noticed that she had her two girls with her.  This woman waited for me to catch up and hugged me so hard with strong double cheek kisses that I thought she must be my long lost auntie.  It was now obvious that the structure I had just passed was their home.

My Arabic at this point is not great and she spoke no English but communicated to me that she wanted me to join her.  They were all carrying buckets of grain and clearly were on their way to feed some animals.  I had some time before I needed to be at breakfast so tagged along.  The girls giggled and tried to keep the grain in their buckets.  The older one stumbled and spilled her bucket resulting in a forceful scolding by her mother as she scooped the grain back into the bucket and hurried to catch up.  At the stables they realised that they did not have the key to open the paddock.  The grain was for the birds, but there was no way in to feed them, at least for a normal sized adult.  I said goodbye and left as the older girl was trying to climb in the window of the surprisingly secure hen house.  My breakfast was waiting.  It was not yet 7:30 am but my day had started beautifully.

Simple Things

Whenever I find myself in a new and very different environment the first things that I notice are the similarities between people regardless of location.  We all need the basics for survival but more than that we all seek to find love, happiness, and kinship wherever we are.  What is often forgotten in more privileged societies is that money is not necessary to achieve this however, the belief that it is often leads to severe disappointment and despair.  Real abject poverty is high in the oases but if you pass any person standing in a falling down rubble doorway they will offer you a smile, a kind word, and anything else that they may have.  

White Serenity

I took this photo of our guide from the top of the tower at Al-Qasr.  I really appreciate that it is important to him to present his best self and to make the appropriate adjustments.  The white galabayas are really beautiful, sensibly cool, and a symbol of purity.

My friend Richie caught a rare photo of me. I am sharing my photos with our guide.  He seems pleased or at least mildly amused.  There is a calm kindness shared by the inhabitants of the oases that rubs off and it is difficult if not impossible to feel anxious here.

Al-Qasr, Dakhla Oasis

I am backtracking due to my utter laziness about updating my blog.  Anyway, here goes, a continuation of where I left off,  sometime in November. We arrived at Al-Qasr, a medieval Ottoman town in the Dakhla Oasis, at dusk.  Even still it was super cool, if not a bit eerie to meander through the dim passageways as the sun was going down.  This town was purposely built, enclosed for protection from marauding invaders.  It is a labyrinth of alleyways off of which are short doors with elaborate wooden lintels framing them.  The doors tend to lead to small rooms built for various domestic necessities.  One of the rooms held an olive press and another a grist mill.  A gentleman who at first just seemed to be curiously following us turned out to be a caretaker and local guide who offered us information and helped with directions in the maze.  The area was not marked as a heritage site of any kind because there are people that still live here. We met many locals in the passageways and even one woman who was selling handicrafts and cold sodas

The tower that you see got our attention right away and of course what do you do with a tower…climb it.  There is a little tiny door at the bottom that you can access by passing through two rooms.  The door is padlocked but it is no problem because we are being sort of followed.  This is when we found out the person  following was the caretaker but alas he doesn’t have the key with him.  Off he goes to collect the key and we can hear him yelling to someone in Arabic, then all goes quiet… more yelling back and forth…nothing.  We wait.  And wait.  And wait.   At last we are in and up the two thousand year old wooden stairs with the thousand year old holes in them.  It is a long way down if they were to fail but that will be for a poor bloke who climbs them in another thousand years.  Anyway to the top, snap some pictures and back down.  Yep, worth the wait.

Farafra Oasis

 Admittedly there isn’t much to Farafra Oasis but the mudbrick homes of the residents and Badr’s Museum.  We stopped to check out the artwork of Badr Abdel Mogdy and to search for petrol.  Although cheap due to heavy subsidies, petrol shortages are common especially around the oases.  Badr’s art is very organic as you can see and depicts oasis life.  In the cafe next door our friend and guide, Ahmed put together a really delicious lunch of traditional bread, fuul (beans), sharp sheep’s cheese, and salad.  Successful in the search for petrol we were now fed and free to head on towards Dhakla.