There are only two real reasons to travel: to loose oneself and to find oneself. Seldom, there is the possibility of doing both in one simple, elegant, go. Some places, of course, help. It seems only logical to do so here: there's the desert to find oneself. And there's the sea to forgo our epicentered selves.
The endless repetition of dusty dust and sandy sand looses it's appeal in less time than it takes to think about it. Soon all dunes, little and big, seem to be versions of one single and essential dune. All ragged mountains seem an endless repetition of the same ragged mountain. One handful of dust, now and forever, undistinguishable of all handfuls of dust. For lack of stimuli, one is forced to look inward. In the desert - I think - you better enjoy your own company, because you'll have lots of it. You'll find yourself, even if you try to avoid it.
And then, there's the sea. Ah!