FROM THE PLANE, I looked down on a patchwork of emerald palm groves, rows of silver olive trees, and vast salt-ringed lakes that seemed to glow in psychedelic shades of cerulean and aquamarine. Surrounding these pockets of lushness was an ocean of sand, and the combination filled me with a sense of isolation that was almost overwhelming.
I was about to land in Siwa, an oasis in Egypt that includes a town of 20,000 people, a few historically significant sites, and a handful of small hotels. It lies about 563 kilometres west of Cairo as the crow flies, and 48 kilometres east of the Libyan border.
My journey had been more than 20 years in the making, sparked by a conversation with Peter Beard, the legendary photographer, artist, and writer. He had told me that one of his favourite hotels was a place called Adrère Amellal, which resembled a fortress made of sand in Egypt’s Western
