Egypt: Sand or Dust?

Contrary to popular belief, Egypt doesn't have "sand" dunes or any type of the granular sand we usually see on seashores.  Egypt's deserts are made of a very fine dirt, resembling dust.  Like the 1930s Dust Bowl in America when the dirt was so light it could be carried on the wind across hundreds of miles, Egypt's duststorms can reach across the Red Sea and into neighboring Middle Eastern nations.

Egyptian duststorm blowing east across the Red Sea into Saudi Arabia.

When there's an actual duststorm (which happens about once a year), the dust is so thick outside that you can barely breathe and visibility is cut to about thirty yards.  Everyone stays inside, but the dust sneaks under doors and coats the nearby floor within hours.

Cairo as a duststorm begins to move in.

Even when there isn't a duststorm, the constant wind blows the fine dust through every crack and crevice in an apartment.  It's a housekeeping nightmare. 

• In one day, the dust isn't visible but if you run your finger on a floor or table, the beige dust will coat your fingertip.
• After two days, you can see the dull coating on furniture and floors.
• After five days, the dust is so thick you can write your name in it.

• Within two weeks, the dust covers floors, counters, furniture, mirrors, everything so thickly it looks like an attic where no one's been, much less cleaned, in years. 

  

I'm not a great housekeeper to begin with, and the dust is a very determined foe, so it usually wins!  

Hurghada Marina

About thirty years ago, the city of Hurghada on the Red Sea was just a fishing village with a small airstrip used by the air force,  a few military barracks, and roaming goat herds.  Then someone figured out that the tourists who flocked to the pyramids and the Valley of the Kings could be lured to the Red Sea if only there were some hotels and diving centers there.  Hurghada now boasts a population of 150,000 with hundreds of hotels, resorts, dive centers, shops, and restaurants.  One of the newest additions is the Marina. 

Along a quarter-mile street, a row of buildings with apartments above and shops, bars and restaurants below have gone up opposite a newly built marina with docking facilities for a hundred or so sailboats and powerboats.  

There are some nice yachts, too.  Considering that Egypt's rather poor, I often wonder where the yachts come from.  The smaller ones have port cities listed on their sterns from everywhere from Johannesburg to Florida.  Further out on a man-made dock are even bigger ones with 4-5 levels.  I wonder where they come from.  Saudi Arabia?  Kuwait?  They sure are beautiful, and the marina is a nice (if expensive) place to visit and spend the evening.

It's the first Wednesday in the month.  Time for the Insecure Writer's Support Group post!

Hmm... What am I insecure about this month?  Could it be because rejections are glaring at me from my Inbox?  Or that I can't decide on a new project?  Or that I worry that if I eat any more chocolate-comfort food I may explode? 

All of the above.  This publishing stuff is hard.  I need some support, guys.  Comment away!