Sunrise at the Lighthouse

The wind hasn’t started yet. That’s the first thing you notice when you step onto the promenade at 5:45 AM. The Gulf of Aqaba is a sheet of glass, mirroring the pinks and golds of the Saudi mountains across the water.

In Dahab, the day doesn't start with an alarm; it starts with the soft clink of coffee cups and the distant splash of a lone swimmer. By 6:30, the first few divers will appear, wheels rattling on the stone as they pull their tanks toward the entry point. But for this hour, the town belongs to the cats, the early risers, and the silence.

I sat at a wooden table, my hands cupped around a warm mug. I watched a group of local kids practice backflips off the jetty, their laughter the only sound in the cool morning air. This is the Dahab people miss when they sleep until ten. It’s a town that breathes slowly before the heat of the day takes hold.