Egypten

Siwa is the stuff of desert daydreams. Just 50km from the Libyan border this fertile basin, sitting about 25m below sea level and brimming with olive trees and palms, epitomises slow-paced oasis life. Set between the shady groves, squat, slouching mud-brick hamlets are connected by winding dirt lanes where trundling donkey carts are still as much a part of the street action as puttering motorbikes and 4WDs. Scattered throughout the oasis are crystal-clear springs, which are a heavenly respite from the harsh heat. At the edge of the oasis, the swells of the Great Sand Sea roll to the horizon, providing irresistible fodder for desert exploration.

About 20km west of Sharm El Sheikh on the road from Al Tor lies the headland of Ras Mohammed National Park, named by local fishers for a cliff that resembles a man’s profile. The waters surrounding the peninsula are considered the jewel in the crown of the Red Sea. The park is visited annually by more than 50,000 visitors, enticed by the prospect of marvelling at some of the world’s most spectacular coral-reef ecosystems, including a profusion of coral species and teeming marine life. Most, if not all, of the Red Sea’s 1000 species of fish can be seen in the park’s waters, including sought-after pelagics, such as hammerheads, manta rays and whale sharks.

For a brief period following the Egypt–Israel peace treaty of 1979, a thriving Israeli tourism trade meant Tarabin (Nuweiba's waterfront beach-camp area) could claim rivalry to Dahab as Sinai’s hippy beach paradise. However, the vagaries of the regional politics over recent decades have meant Israeli travellers, for the most part, shun Sinai. So while Sharm boomed and Dahab grew steadily into a low-key resort, Nuweiba which stretches over 15km, was left to function primarily as a port for the Aqaba-bound ferry to Jordan. It's a shame because it could easily be the mellow beach-camp paradise that Dahab was a decade ago.

The Suez Canal, Egypt’s glorious triumph of engineering over nature, dominates this region, slicing through the sands of the Isthmus of Suez for 163km, not only severing mainland Egypt from Sinai but also Africa from Asia. The canal was the remarkable achievement of Egypt’s belle époque, an era buoyed by grand aspirations and finished by bankruptcy and broken dreams. This period also gave birth to the canalside cities of Port Said and Ismailia. Today their streets remain haunted by this fleeting age of grandeur, their distinctive architecture teetering on picturesque disrepair.

In its late-19th-century raffish heyday, Port Said was Egypt’s city of vice and sin. The boozing seafarers and packed brothels may have long since been scrubbed away, but this louche period is evoked still in the waterfront’s muddle of once-grand architecture slowly going to seed.

Older than the Pyramids, as sublime as any temple, Egypt’s Western Desert is a vast sweep of elemental beauty. The White Desert's shimmering vista of surreal rock formations and the ripple and swell of the Great Sand Sea's mammoth dunes are simply bewitching.

If you want to dig a little deeper into Egyptian culture and history, the area surrounding the capital is home to several intriguing and important sites rarely included on typical Egypt itineraries. Although few can honestly be put in the 'must-see' category – except of course for the majestic ancient site of Saqqara, which lies on the city’s southern edge – those with time up their sleeve will enjoy delving into this lesser-seen region.

On the northern end of the First Cataract, marking ancient Egypt's southern frontier, Aswan has always been of great strategic importance. In ancient times it was a garrison town for the military campaigns against Nubia; its quarries provided the granite used for so many sculptures and obelisks.

Rugged and starkly beautiful, the Sinai Peninsula has managed to capture imaginations throughout the centuries. The region has been coveted for its deep religious significance and its strategic position as a crossroads of empires: prophets and pilgrims, conquerors and exiles have all left their footprints on the sands here.

In-the-know divers have been heading to Marsa Alam for years, attracted to the seas that offer up some of Egypt’s best diving just off the rugged coastline. Despite this, the far-flung destination stayed well off the tourism radar for a long time. While the town itself remains a quiet, nondescript place, the strip of coast to its north and south has been snapped up by eager developers and is now home to a plethora of resorts and half-built hotels.