THE SECRET BEACH

I won't tell anyone. "The Beach" exists, but just like in the film, I have made a promise not to reveal my secret, except that it is an incredible spot at The Red Sea.

Photography and text af Linda Horowitz

No electricity... pitch darkness. Only candlelight and gas lanterns. The sound of the wind from the mountains after sundown. The temperature is still a bit warm, but from one minute to the next, the cold air of the desert night moves in quickly.
The sea is so still, that I can see the reflection of the stars in the ocean. Only the lights from a far off hotel help me to see my way to the village on the other end of the bay.
A dark haired young woman with a black shawl over her shoulders walks in and sits alone at the farthest corner maddress. Golden candlelight on the table draws a silhouette around her.
She is the only traveller here besides me.
I find myself in a large Bedouin tent, resting on comfortable hand-made pillows, almost like a sultan, between the tall desert palms.

Time to play chess
A few months ago, there was a sign at the main road, where it was written - hmmm... I've promised not to say. The Bedouin owner of the village, whom we will call "Salim", has removed the sign.
He would rather be left in peace to sit on the terrace in the late afternoon and play chess or backgammon, when a friend stops by to play with. He would rather discuss philosophy, or read from his collections of the Persian-American poet, Khalil Gibran.
It is not because Salim wants to be entirely alone. He enjoys having guests in his little village. But he would like to be the one to choose them. The few that find their way to Salim's village have usually come there through a recommendation from an earlier "secret" guest. Among the neighbors in the area, Salim is known as an eccentric character, who is out to ruin his own business.
I myself have heard about Salim's camp from a close Israeli friend. The first evening, upon my arrival, my Bedouin taxi driver wasn't able to fine this village. I had been given an address, but it was impossible to find without a sign to show the way.
There was a time where Salim had maintained a postbox number 18 in a small village 12 kilometers away. But one year, he forgot to pay for it and the year after, the post-office cancelled his postbox. Since then, it has been impossible to get in touch with him.
Therefore, I ended up staying at another village in the area and it took me a few days to locate Salim.
He says to me, "Don't write about my place..." I'm reminded of "The Beach" which takes place in Thailand. Maybe you have read the book or seen the film with Leonardo diCaprio? The story is about young ruck-sack traveler's eternal search to run away from the crowds, to find that unique, untouched spot in the shadows of the coconut palms.
The Sinai peninsula has also been hit by this phenomena. So many of the most exquisite beaches in the world have been invaded by millions of tourists, making it increasingly difficult to find any last little piece of unspoiled beach paradise.
But I have to admit it... This spot attracts me not least because of it's forbidden aura. It's a great feeling to have something all for myself - for as long as it lasts.

Feeling of timelessness
"The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed. The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals," quotes Salim from the words of Khalil Gibran.
Here in the Sinai desert, there is time for allowing the soul to unfold itself. Time to find silence, to be alone in nature - and to come forward with the greater questions.
What makes the wheels turn around? What is the meaning of life?
This spot in itself helps to give the answers, such as, that it is often the most simple things which are of the greatest value.
In the late afternoon in the small village, beside the "secret beach", I can see human silhouettes reflecting in thought, on almost each cliff formation and mountain top in the area.
At the nearby open tent, Bedouins sit among the travelers and sip peppermint tea, while cats dose on cushions in the shade. The atmosphere is peaceful and relaxing. One gets a feeling of timelessness.
"This is one of the few magical nature spots in the world, where doing absolutely nothing has a value in itself. The silence of the desert gives room to listen to your heart and soul," says a traveler who comes here every winter.
The red and black stripes in the cliffs represent millions of years of vicissitude, but at this moment, it is as if time is at a standstill.
It's also a place where you can tie the shoe laces of your walking boots, roam out into the desert or hop up onto a camel's hump, ride and learn more about the mysteries of the desert.
If this is the sort of adventure one is searching for, then it is not advised to do it alone. This landscape must be treated with respect. Here the earth folds into itself with harsh ravines and gorges which are so easy to get lost in.
Only a half hour's walk from the bay area, one can crawl through the valleys and crevices of the cliffs, as the innumerable years of erosion have smoothened the rapid flow of water, which has long since dried up. Nowadays, there is usually not more than a few minutes of rainfall each year.
The word "Bedouin" means: "those who inhabit the desert", and this wonderful tribe of people know everything about the desert and the ways of it's nature.
Yesterday I had a terrible stomach ache. One of the Bedouin women residing in the area says to me, "Wait here. I'll get something for you." She returns with a glass of 'marmaria' tea. "Drink it."
This tea contains roots and herbs which I have never heard about before.
But I trust this woman, and after a little while, I feel absolutely myself again.

Hotel chains move in
Suddenly I'm hungry. And Salim is famous among those chosen few travelers as the best cook in the bay. Again, I walk out into the pitch-black evening to find Salim.
Peeking into his house through an open window without glass, I see an incredible hand-crafted kitchen made of stone. Salim is in the midst of preparing food for the other female guest in his village camp.
It is an enormous open kitchen, propped full of fresh vegetables, which have been brought from the neighbouring city, El Arish earlier the same day. Fish are still flipping around on a platter. There is a lovely Arabic styled arched window which looks out to the sea and camp. The kitchen is on the ground floor. For the past three years, Salim has been trying to build a second floor to his home, but he still hasn't been able to afford to complete it's construction. It will just have to wait.
He tells me about Egypt's official plans to populate the entire eastern coastal stretch of the peninsula. According to President Mubarak, who would like to have two million Egyptians residing here in order to develop the area for wealthy European tourists: "Reports about the development of new tourism destinations on the Red Sea and in Sinai, describe them as comparable with the best in the world. I admit what has already been fulfilled represents but a beginning of a major tourist boom in Egypt. We have to pursue all channels and firmly set out goals to be fully successful. For nearly two decades, developing Sinai has been high on the national agenda in order to "protect national interests in times of peace."

And there is a great potential to build on this agenda; a sunny climate, clean beaches and the most exquisite coral reefs. Investors have already bought up the land just beside Salim's village, where they plan to build a five star hotel, complete with discotek, swimming pools and jacuzzi.
The Egyptian government's ultimate goal is to attract more local and foreign investors to the region, and projects already planned consist of joint enterprises between Egypt and countries such as Italy, Germany and Switzerland.
Salim and his Bedouin neighbours are not exactly exhuberant about this future plan. What will happen to all the open space and nature? What about the travelers from Israel and other places in the world who come here in search of the silence?
And what will happen to the still untouched coral reefs when all the hotel's sewage pipes, filled with poisonous cleaning agents and chemicals, lead straight out to the ocean?
Many of the Bedouins living on this stretch of sand and cliffs feel they are being treated unfairly by the Egyptian government's laws. They are concerned about the future and feel powerless to do much about it. The Egyptians plan to have power stations, sewers and running water everywhere. During the last ten years, every piece of land along the coast has been bought up, and the Bedouins have nowhere to run, except back to the desert or mountains.

Tourist industry paralysed
For the moment, along the coastline, the majority of the village camps are deserted. Around four months ago, since the disputes between Israel and Palestine, the owners have left their camps. The huts stand like black shadows, waiting hopefully for better times ahead. The abandoned restaurants are also empty, with hand-written menus in Hebrew still hanging on the walls.
In some of the camps, one can find individual ruck-sack travelers, who have moved into a hut without permission. In the winter months, these camps are usually filled with Israelis, but during these past months, there are almost none who dare to set their feet over the Egyptian border. Not until there is peace again.
Three young Israeli men, who are just finished with their morning yoga on the beach tell me, "Nothing can happen here. This is the most peaceful spot on the earth. But many of our friends are still afraid to cross the border with their Israeli passports, if the situation were to flame up again, and they decide to close the border down. We are willing to take the chance."
It seems quite possible that several airlines may stop their charter flights to the city of Eilat, if there is no drastic change in the near future. And that will have a great influence on the stream of travelers who use the port of Eilat as a quick and inexpensive entrance to Sinai.
Like the other camp owners, Salim has sent his workers on holiday for an undecided period. But he is possibly the only one in the Sinai with such a relaxed attitude that the entire tourist industry has been paralysed. Just if he can have the peace to play his game of chess once in a while.
"It doesn't pay to feel sorry about," the philosophical Bedouin says and quotes from Gibran: "Could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy..."
My snorkle and flippers take me into the depths of the vast coral reef, only a few footsteps from the beach. I am surrounded by the indescribable colours and shapes underwater, with schools of fish that take no notice of my presence as they perform their dances in the sunbeams. A hidden goldmine of natural wonders right under that blue surface of the Red Sea.
For as long as it lasts.