Endless Days of Summer
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I. EDITORIAL NOTE
Welcome Endless Days of Summer #2, a newsletter for the curious, the nostalgic, and the quietly adventurous. Each week, we’ll take you on a journey through time and space, offering you the stories that linger like a warm evening breeze.
In this issue, you'll find a mini deep dive into perhaps the most defining historical moment of Alexander the Great’s life on The Summer diaries, a quote to carry with you this week, a mantra from a faraway land, and The Hidden Gem. This week, the Oasis of Siwa, a place full of beauty and mystery.
You'll also discover Art in Details, we'll talk about the Khershef, a unique way of building houses in Siwa. Alongside that, expect curiosities, symbols, interpretations, exotic cuisine, and a brief cultural agenda from around the world.
And if you’ve been following our deeper explorations, don’t worry, our in-depth pieces continue, now twice a month. These are the essays where we dive into the life, art, culture, or spirit of a place or time, seeking the deeper meanings that still echo today. On Sundays you can expect our Sunday Escape, where we send you a quiz and maybe even a small mystery to let your mind drift to other lands and time.
This is not a newsletter about everything. It’s a newsletter about something. Something that awakens the senses and invites you to wander, if only in your mind.
We’re glad you’re here.
Summer R.🌸
II. THE SUMMER DIARIES
…From mortal to divine…
The stone floor was cool beneath his sandals. He had been walking for what felt like hours through the temple’s vast inner chambers. Columns, corridors, and carved walls held their silence like breath.
The priests had withdrawn. Even Ptolemy had stopped at the outer hall. Now it was only him.
In the innermost chamber, he didn’t look at the statue— not at first. He looked at the dust in the air, caught in a shaft of sunlight. He looked at the narrow altar, the vessel of oil, the flicker of a single flame. Then he raised his eyes.
Amon sat partly glowing in half-light. The god’s statue was motionless, without expression. And still, something pressed against him. Not fear, not awe. Something older than either.
Alexander stood very still. For a moment, he felt someone else in the room. A breathing that wasn’t his own. Suddenly, a voice echoed through the chamber, carried by the very air itself.
“Welcome, son of Amon.” The words seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, filling the stillness with ancient power.
“Mother was right”, he thought, steadying himself against the weight of destiny settling like dust on his shoulders. The silence that followed was thick, the temple waited for his reply. But he said nothing. Instead, he let the presence of the god speak for him — a silent acknowledgment of a truth that had been written long before his footsteps crossed this sacred ground.
THE JOURNEY
Siwa, a remote oasis cradled by the endless sweep of desert dunes, lay at the edge of the known spiritual world. It was a place of secrets, a sacred meeting ground of gods and men.
Its sacred geography, remote and ringed by sand, held one of the most venerated oracles in the ancient world: the Shrine of Amun, a god whom Greeks would identify with Zeus. The god Amun, veiled in mystery and silence, was said to hold answers to fate itself. Travelers moved westward not toward a city, but a mystery.
The hard journey to Siwa meant crossing the Libyan desert. But it wasn’t only about crossing sand, rock, heat, and silence. It was a passage through the threshold of transformation, a rite as old as the desert winds. The desert’s harshness tested not only the body but also the spirit, its vastness forced solitude and reflection on every traveler who dared to seek the oracle. Siwa’s remoteness ensured that only the determined and the chosen ones would reach its heart.
For Alexander, the desert was a gateway, an initiation. Here, the myth of the god Amun and the man seeking his favor converged, and set the stage for a meeting that would echo through history.
ARRIVAL AT THE ORACLE
After days of crossing the desert, Alexander stood before the Temple of Amun. The isolated sanctuary, carved into a rocky outcrop, lay far from the Nile and the Greek world he knew. The temple reflected Egyptian sacred geometry and ritual logic, less monumental than Karnak but more intimate. Its mudbrick walls seemed to rise directly from the desert, a testament to its oasis setting. It was a temple of silence, not spectacle.
Amun, the main deity in Egyptian religion, embodied hidden power and creation. Revered as king of the gods, he was both mysterious and majestic, and his oracles carried weight beyond mere prophecy—they could confirm the legitimacy of rulers who sought his favor.
Greek envoys had come here before for blessings and political legitimacy. But none had sought what Alexander did: confirmation of his divine lineage. In this place where Amun was believed to speak, the boundary between mortal and divine had long been maintained. Yet Alexander, trained by philosophers but driven by myth, crossed it.
THE DIVINE ENCOUNTER
Upon his arrival at the oracle, Alexander is said to have been greeted as “Son of Amun”. He never confirmed this, allowing the ambiguity to circulate. His silence became a deliberate strategy.
By neither affirming nor denying divine parentage, he created space for speculation. His followers could believe he was more than a man, while critics had nothing concrete to challenge. The encounter was less about the words spoken and more about the perception left behind.
In Egypt, to be called a son of a god carried immense political weight. It linked him to the Pharaohs and conferred legitimacy and divine authority. He did not need to prove his divinity, he only needed to act as if the gods had spoken it. This alone reshaped his image and rule. His silence spoke loudly, and the world listened.
THE TURNING POINT
Siwa did not just confirm Alexander’s divinity, it reoriented his destiny. From that desert shrine onward, he ceased to be merely a king among men and began moving as a figure destined to embody myth, not just politics. The boy who had once dreamed of Achilles now began to craft his own epic story, consciously.
Alexander emerged not just a conqueror but a living god, pushing eastward with unstoppable force, driven not only by conquest but by the compulsion of a god chasing immortality. He did not just conquer; he was inevitable.
His campaigns grew more ceremonial, more theatrical. His dress code adopted Persian grandeur; his entrances into cities became processions of near-religious awe. The spectacle became part of his rule. And with this divine aura, resistance seemed not only futile, but almost profane.
But Siwa’s ripples extended deeper. Warriors who had fought by his side found themselves estranged, uncomfortable with this new hierarchy. His tolerance for dissent narrowed. The assassination of his friend Callisthenes by Alexander himself, the demand for ritual bowing, the gradual alienation of his Macedonian officers. These were not only political tensions, but consequences of a ruler who now believed he was more than mortal. The oracle’s echo made compromise feel beneath him.
In that sense, Siwa was a moment of departure. From there, Alexander left behind the world of men—slowly, irreversibly—and stepped onto a path where only gods could follow, lit by myth itself.
THE PARADOX OF SIWA
Siwa crowned Alexander in divinity. The confirmation of his divine lineage transformed him from a mortal king into a figure outside the realm of ordinary men. Yet the same reverence that drew the loyalty of armies also planted the seeds of suspicion and discontentment towards the arrogance of a man who no longer saw himself as one of them.
Whether the oracle’s words directly hastened his end will never be known. But the aura of divinity carried a cost. It sharpened rivalries, deepened fractures, and perhaps gave ambition to those who might otherwise have been loyal. Alexander’s sudden death at thirty-two left no succession plan, no stabilizing hand to guide the vast realm he had built. His son, still unborn, was unable to claim the inheritance of a father who had once crossed continents. In the power vacuum, his empire began to splinter before it had even been secured.
Siwa had promised eternity, and in one sense, it delivered. Alexander’s name became immortal, his legend bound to gods and heroes. Yet the very myth that lifted him beyond mortality may also have stripped his reign of the human bonds that hold power together. Divinity crowned him, but left him alone. And so the empire that had risen with him fell without him, leaving behind the enduring riddle of a man who became a god. In doing so, Alexander may have doomed his own creation.
III. QUOTE OF THE WEEK
"To know the heart and mind of a person, look not at what they have achieved, but at what they aspire to."—Ancient Egyptian Proverb
Reflection:
To understand someone by their achievements is to see the chapter they've already closed. To understand them by their aspirations is to glimpse the chapter they are daring to write.
There is more truth in what a person longs for than in what they possess. For longing is raw and unfiltered. It speaks without polish. It reveals a person’s north star—not where they are, but where they believe beauty, meaning, or redemption might be found.
So when you want to know someone deeply, ask them not what they’ve done. Ask them what keeps them up at night, what they still hope for. The answer will not just show you their heart, it will show you its direction.
IV. THE HIDDEN GEM
Siwa
This is a place where sand and salt collide, and the desert sky hums with constellations. The air smells faintly of dates, clay, and sun-warmed stone. Here, history isn’t narrated; it drifts through ruins, springs, and shimmering lakes. It’s presence is felt in the way light spills through palm fronds or how footsteps echo in the stillness of a mud-brick lane.
Siwa is a remote oasis deep in Egypt’s Western Desert, closer to Libya than Cairo. If you are seeking a true hidden gem, you have arrived.
At the heart lies Siwa Town, a tapestry of Berber culture, ancient Egyptian mystery, and desert stillness. Start at the Shali Fortress, once a desert citadel of mud-brick houses that melted in violent rains in 1926. Wander early, when the streets are hushed and the kershef stone glows amber in the sun. Then head to the Temple of the Oracle of Amun, where Alexander the Great came to be crowned son of a god. The crumbling ruins are sparse, but remain eloquent.
Rent a bicycle or tuk-tuk and glide past the lush date palms, olive groves, and crystal-clear springs. At Cleopatra’s Bath (Ain Guba), a natural mineral pool that once bathed queens, warms beneath palm fronds. Here, swimming under the stars remains magical and floating feels weightless and sacred.
Visit Fatnas Island, now a green peninsula in the salt lake whose waters make bodies float above surface tension. A perfect place for afternoon dips surrounded by reeds, desert light, and the feeling that you’ve stepped out of time. It’s one of the most luminous sunset spots you can imagine—surreal, quiet, and you will feel suspended between sky and salt.
Journey to the Mountain of the Dead (Gebel al-Mawta), a necropolis where few painted tombs still glow in muted ochre as echoes of Egypt’s Greco-Roman past. The air holds the weight of centuries, both sparse and full.
Stop at the Siwa House Museum, a mud-brick house turned ethnographic treasure. Inside, each corner holds artifacts of Siwan life—silver jewelry, weaving, household tools—and stories of amazing resilience and adaptation. And don’t miss the traditional Siwan houses and the silver jewelry market—where every piece tells a story of protection, femininity, or lineage.
By late afternoon, climb Dakrour Mountain and watch the sun slip behind golden dunes in the silence and let desert wind rewrite your senses. Then find a rooftop café and drink hot mint tea while the oasis exhales into the stars. Dinner is likely to be tagine cooked in clay pots, served with olives from the land and bread baked in palm frond ovens.
The best time to go is from October to March, when the desert is cool, the springs are welcoming, and the date harvest has passed. Modest clothing is appreciated, especially when visiting homes or holy sites. Siwans are gracious, but deeply rooted in tradition.
If October brings a full moon, climb Mount Dakrour to join locals for the Festival of Forgiveness (Siyaha). A gathering of song, food, reconciliation, and community beneath the open sky. Women sing in the village, men assemble on the mountain. It’s Siwa’s living ritual of renewal.
Siwa is not a checklist, but there are things you should not miss. Salt lake swims that leave your body buoyant and your mind blank. A basket woven by hand from date palm fibers. A conversation with someone who’s never left, and never needed to.
As dusk turns to night, surrender to stargazing beneath desert skies. With zero light pollution, the Milky Way arcs clear above. On guided evenings, you’ll lie on blankets sipping Bedouin tea, hear tales of ancient Egyptian astronomy, and spot shooting stars or the International Space Station overhead.
Siwa is not a place to forget the world, but to remember what the world once was before noise, before speed. A place that keeps its secrets, but shares its peace.
V. MANTRA FROM A FARAWAY LAND
This week, as we journey through the oasis land of Siwa, I invite you to embrace a timeless mantra locals live by. Whether you’re wandering the warm desert paths or simply seeking a gentle reminder in your day, this Siwan saying carries the wisdom of divine appointment, a reminder to trust something more powerful than you.
Mantra:
"Sometimes a coincidence is better than a thousand appointments."
Original:
رب صدفة خير من ألف ميعاد
Pronunciation:
Rubba ṣudfah khayr min alf mī‘ād.
Reflection:
In life, not everything can be planned or scheduled. Some of the most meaningful moments come unexpectedly, carried by chance or fate. This proverb reminds us to stay open to the serendipity that the universe offers, those chance encounters and unplanned blessings that can change everything. It’s a celebration of flexibility and trust in the flow of life, values deeply appreciated in Egyptian culture.
Embracing the unexpected doesn’t mean abandoning responsibility, but rather welcoming the magic in the uncharted, the beauty in the unexpected.
VI. ART IN DETAILS
In the heart of Egypt’s Western Desert lies Siwa, an oasis not just of water and date palms, but of a rare architectural tradition shaped by salt and time. Here, the buildings breathe with the land itself. Their walls, pale and glistening under the sun, are made from kershef, a material born of the salt lakes that surround the oasis.
Kershef is a construction method found nowhere else in Egypt, nor in the wider Arab or African worlds in the same form. It is entirely local, both in technique and in temperament. Builders begin by harvesting salt-laden crusts from the lakebeds, mixing them with clay and silt to create blocks that are then sun-dried until firm. These blocks are laid in careful layers, bonded together by a salt-mud mortar that glistens faintly as it dries. Over time, as the desert heat works its slow alchemy, the salt within begins to crystallize. This creates a structure not made of separate bricks, but fused into a single, monolithic body. The wall becomes one with itself, seamless and organic.
Building with kershef is to participate in a ritual of patience. Each segment must be allowed to dry before the next can rise. It is a method that does not lend itself to haste, and in that way it mirrors the life of the oasis: unhurried, elemental, inseparable from the landscape.
Perhaps the most evocative example of this tradition is the Shali Fortress, a towering mud-salt citadel built around 1200 AD at the very center of Siwa. Once five stories high, Shali was both the heart and the shield of the community, crowned with minarets and crisscrossed with narrow alleys. When a rare downpour struck in 1926, many of its upper levels melted, softened by the very element they were born from. Yet even in ruin, the fortress still holds its shape, standing as a poetic reminder that beauty and fragility often come hand in hand.
Kershef buildings are not just beautiful, they are wise. Their thick, mineral-rich walls regulate temperature naturally, keeping interiors cool during the burning days and warmer during cold desert nights. The rooms are often roofed with palm trunks and olive wood, and designed to harness the desert breezes.
Yet this tradition now stands on the edge of disappearance. Concrete and cement have begun to take over, displacing materials that once came from the land itself.
Still, to walk through old Siwa is a profound experience. The architecture doesn’t shout; it hums. Every wall and doorway seems to hold the silence of the salt flats and the weight of memories not yet forgotten. These are buildings that belong. Made not just in Siwa, but of Siwa.
VII. FLAVORS OF THE WORLD
There are places you reach with your feet, and others you reach by your taste. Some experiences arrive on your plate carrying the salt from another ocean, the warmth from a distant spice market, and stories told in simmered silence.
This week’s recipe offers just another way to wander, not with a passport, but with your mouth. This Siwan Tagine specialty, is fragrant, rich, and a wonderful reflection of Siwa’s heritage.
Tagine Siwi - Siwan Tagine
🧂 Ingredients (serves 4):
500g of chicken
1 large onion, finely chopped
3–4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp turmeric
½ tsp ground cinnamon
Salt & black pepper to taste
1 tsp paprika (optional for color)
1 preserved lemon (rinsed, quartered) or zest of 1 lemon
10–12 pitted dates
10–15 green or black olives (local Siwan olives if available)
A handful of almonds or toasted sesame seeds (optional garnish)
2 tbsp olive oil or ghee
1 cup water or light broth
Fresh parsley or cilantro for garnish
🔥 Preparation:
1. Sear the Meat - In a tagine pot or heavy-bottomed pot, heat olive oil/ghee over medium heat. Brown the meat pieces on all sides. Remove and set aside.
2. Build the Base - In the same pot, sauté onions until golden. Add garlic and all the spices (cumin, coriander, turmeric, cinnamon, paprika, salt, pepper) and stir until fragrant.
3. Layer the Ingredients - Return the meat to the pot. Add olives, preserved lemon, and dates. Pour in the water or broth — just enough to barely cover the meat. Bring to a simmer.
4. Slow Cook - Cover with a lid and cook on very low heat for 2 to 2.5 hours, until the meat is fork-tender and the sauce is rich and slightly thickened. (If using a traditional clay tagine, use a diffuser or cook in a preheated oven at 160°C/320°F.)
5. Final Touch - Taste and adjust seasoning. Garnish with almonds, sesame seeds, or fresh herbs before serving.
7. 🍞 Serve with - Traditional Shamsi bread, warm flatbread, or plain couscous. In Siwa, it’s often eaten with local bread and sweet tea.
Let the flavors linger in your mouth, they may tell you more about a place than words ever could. Enjoy!
VIII. CURIOSITY CORNER
Did You Know the salt lakes of Siwa are even saltier than the Dead Sea?
Hidden in Egypt’s western desert, these shimmering pools hold a salinity so high that floating becomes effortless and almost surreal. Formed by ancient underground springs and ringed by salt-encrusted shores, the lakes have created a natural phenomenon where the body, no matter its weight, refuses to sink. Locals speak of their healing qualities, and visitors often emerge coated in fine crystals, as if baptized by the desert itself.
Though less known to the world, Siwa’s lakes offer an experience just as extraordinary, if not more mystical, than their famous Jordanian cousin.
IX. SYMBOLS & MEANINGS
Khatem
The Khatem, meaning "seal", is a prominent motif in traditional Siwan bridal embroidery, believed to protect and bless.
In these garments, especially the multi-layered tunics worn on the wedding day, you’ll often find seven square khatem motifs, each divided into four triangles, embroidered around the neckline. These shapes aren’t merely decorative; they serve as amulets. The sharp corners of each triangle are thought to ward off the evil eye, negative energies, and inscribe good fortune. The placement over the wearer’s womb and sometimes heart emphasizes fertility and protection.
Surrounding the khatem, rays of sun‑like embroidery and nacre buttons (called tutintfukt, or “eyes of the sun”) reflect light and are believed to draw solar energy and vitality toward the wearer, echoing pre-Islamic Amazigh (Berber) respect for the sun as a life-giving force. The color palette—black, red, orange, green, yellow—is anything but random; it mirrors the ripening stages of Siwa’s date harvest, rooting the garment in the land and its cycle of abundance. The precision of its symmetry also affirms balance and order, signaling harmony between the seen and unseen.
Together, these embroidered layers transform the bride into a living symbol of fertility, resilience, and spiritual protection. In a single motif, you can trace Siwa’s heritage: a blend of Berber symbolic logic, ancient Egyptian sun cult echoes, and an oasis community’s hope woven into thread.
While many traditions veil protection in amulets or incantations, the Siwan khatem embeds it directly into life’s threshold moments. Marriage, in this case, is not merely a social rite—it is a crossing, and the khatem is stitched into that passage like a prayer: silent, geometric, and enduring.
X. CULTURAL AGENDA AROUND THE WORLD
August 2025
A refined list of curated moments of nature, cosmos, history, art, and ritual, and everything in-between:
United States
🎸 Bass Canyon Festival – Gorge Amphitheatre, Washington — August 15–17, 2025
Three days of bass-heavy electronic music amid dramatic natural scenery in the Pacific Northwest.🍷 Traverse City Food & Wine Festival – Traverse City, Michigan — August 20–24, 2025
Celebrates Northern Michigan’s culinary scene with farm dinners, wine pairings, tastings, and demonstrations by renowned chefs.🎉 THING Festival – Carnation, Washington— Every Saturday in August 2025
An intimate, all-ages music festival across the first four Saturdays of August, each day curated with unique themes and lineups.🎪 Festival of Nations – St. Louis, Missouri — August 23–24, 2025
A vibrant cultural celebration featuring music, performances, art, and cuisine from over 80 countries, set in Tower Grove Park.
International
🎭 Edinburgh International Festival – Edinburgh, Scotland — August 1–24, 2025
A prestigious performing arts festival programming opera, music, theatre, and dance across renowned venues.🎬 Edinburgh International Film Festival – Edinburgh, Scotland — August 14–20, 2025
Showcases innovation in global cinema, spotlighting emerging filmmakers and documentary storytelling.🎥 Locarno Film Festival – Locarno, Switzerland — August 6–16, 2025
A historic international film festival renowned for its bold programming and Piazza Grande screenings.🎞 Norwegian International Film Festival – Haugesund, Norway — August 16–22, 2025
One of Norway’s leading film events, featuring new Nordic and international films with prestigious Amanda awards.🎶 LaLaLa Fest – Jakarta, Indonesia — August 22–24, 2025
A three-day international music festival at the Jakarta International Expo, showcasing diverse acts and cultural exchange.🌾 Darwin Festival – Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia — August 9–22, 2025
A rich cultural tapestry featuring the Makan Club’s intimate four-course dinners, the Golden Hour Bar Trail, comedy-wine pairings, waterfront cocktail experiences, live music, art installations, and indigenous storytelling that blends culinary adventure with local heritage.
XI. Final Thoughts…
Thank you for reading Endless Days of Summer #2. We hope something in these words and images stirred within your soul.
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Until next time.
Endless Days of Summer