I arrived in Dahab with very little research and no expectations.
Which, honestly, is how I try to arrive anywhere.
It’s kind of a personal rule: no expectations, no disappointment.
It means I’m almost always pleasantly surprised when a place feels good, or easy, or better than I imagined.
Dahab definitely did that.
I flew from Cairo to Sharm El Sheikh, then took a one-hour inDrive taxi along the coast to this small town on the Red Sea. It was late when I arrived, so I dropped my bags and went straight out to find dinner.
What I didn’t expect was all the trendy cafes, vegan menus, fairy lights, and groovy little restaurants.
The street itself was quiet, but not in a bad way. Just… slow. Sleepy. Like a town that wakes early and rests deeply. Later, I realised since most people here are divers – they’re up early, in the water all morning, resting by afternoon.
To me, Dahab felt unrushed.
Sea-focused.
A place that invited me to breathe out.
So immediately, it felt completely different to Cairo.
Cairo had felt like being plugged into a live wire – noise, movement, horns, intensity, all the time.
Dahab felt like the opposite. Fewer cars. Hardly any horns. The sea always in view. People actually lingering.
Within a day, my shoulders had dropped without me consciously trying.
Where I stayed & finding balance
I stayed at Rafiki Hostel, which had more of a family feel than a party vibe. They hosted shared dinners, people were genuinely social, and it was easy to connect without it feeling forced.
What I loved most was the balance.
There were always people around if I felt social.
And just as much space to be completely alone when I didn’t.
That choice matters so much to me when I travel.
The hostel was about a ten-minute walk from the main promenade, which felt just far enough to be quieter without feeling disconnected.
It felt easy. And ease is something I value more and more the longer I travel.
Diving, daily life & the rhythm of Dahab
My days in Dahab naturally started to revolve around diving.
A dive friend had recommended Deep Blue Divers, so I walked in on my first day and booked two dives for the following morning. That was the only real plan I made.
After that, it just… continued.
Each afternoon, I’d finish diving and think, “Okay, I neeeed to dive again tomorrow.”
And so I did.
Over the next few days, I did two dives a day, building back my comfort in the water before finishing with the Blue Hole and Canyon dives.
And the diving itself?
Honestly incredible.
The coral, the visibility, the marine life – genuinely comparable to the Great Barrier Reef. I was surprised by both the quality of the diving and how much more accessible it felt compared to many other dive destinations. Dahab is full of dive shops, which means lots of choice and more competitive pricing. If I were living there long-term, I’d absolutely be diving most days.
Afternoons were slow on purpose.
I’d sit at cafes right on the water.
Go for long walks along the promenade.
Let my nervous system finally exhale.
Being able to sit with a cappuccino overlooking crystal-blue water after a morning of diving… it slowed me down in the best possible way.
The moment that reminded me why I live like this
The week before arriving in Dahab, I’d had a bit of a spiral in Cairo.
Not because anything dramatic had happened. Just the quieter, heavier stuff that sometimes comes with long-term travel:
the constant unknown,
the constant decisions,
the lack of rhythm,
the ongoing “what next?” loop in your head.
Then one afternoon in Dahab, I was sitting by the water, sending a voice note to a friend.
Cappuccino in hand.
Salt still in my hair.
Sun on my skin.
Having had such a perfect morning underwater.
And mid-voice note, I stopped.
Because suddenly it felt very clear:
Oh. This is what it’s about.
All the discomfort.
All the uncertainty.
All the logistics and spirals.
They’re held by moments like this. Balanced by them.
Sitting by the Red Sea, genuinely so grateful to be exactly where I was.
It was a quiet but powerful reminder of why I keep choosing this lifestyle, even when parts of it are hard.
Nights in Dahab: cafés instead of chaos
One of my favourite unexpected parts of Dahab happened at night.
One evening, everyone at the hostel was heading out to a bar. I told them I was going to bed. Climbed into my bunk… and realised I wasn’t actually tired.
What I wanted wasn’t sleep.
What I wanted was a cafe.
So I walked back down to the promenade alone and found a small spot right by the water.
Hot chocolate.
Moonlight.
The sound of the sea.
I sat there watching the moon rise over the water and thought, very simply:
This is my kind of night.
It also made me realise how different this is to Australia. There, most cafes close by mid-afternoon and anything open late is usually centred around alcohol. In places like Dahab – and across lots of North Africa – the culture is naturally more night-oriented in the most beautiful way. Families out walking, people lingering over tea, cafes full late into the evening. It feels social without being loud, connected without being chaotic. I found myself wishing we had more of that kind of culture in Australia…
I went back to this cafe again. And again.
No pressure. No performance. No chaos. Just space.
On my final night, I invited a new friend to join me and we ended up talking for hours – the kind of long, deep conversation that only seems to happen when you’re travelling. Those fleeting but meaningful connections that change how a place feels in your memory.
Dahab held space for both solitude and connection without forcing either.
Who Dahab is perfect for (and who it’s not)
Dahab is ideal for:
– scuba divers (obviously)
– snorkellers and ocean lovers
– slow travellers
– people who like small, walkable towns
– anyone visiting Egypt who wants to see more than just pyramids and chaos
It’s especially suited to people who enjoy:
– daily swims
– simple routines
– unpolished beauty
– time passing slowly
It’s probably not for you if you’re looking for:
– big luxury resorts
– high-end shopping
– nightlife-focused travel
– lots of infrastructure and convenience
– being close to a major airport
Sharm El Sheikh caters more to that resort-style experience.
Dahab feels more local.
Why I’d go back in a heartbeat
I was genuinely sad to leave Dahab.
Mostly because I had to – my Egypt visa expired the same day I left. If I’d realised earlier, I would have looked into extending it. It’s genuinely somewhere I could have stayed longer, easily.
It felt similar to how I felt arriving in Essaouira:
that immediate sense of I want to stay here longer.
Dahab showed me a different side of Egypt.
A softer side. A slower side. A sea-loving side.
It reminded me why slow travel matters to me.
Why rest matters.
Why I keep choosing this way of moving through the world.
And if I ever find myself on that side of the world again with time to spare?
I already know where I’ll be going.
– Alexx
Alex's Adventures 