Egypt 2012
Vacations are almost always good, and one must remember that while writing vacation reports. So, no proper objective report this time, just several glimpses of what it was like.
***
I love flying. No, not completely accurate: I love takeoffs. I even love bits of turbulence during takeoffs, when you get this illusion of falling for a teeny tiny instant, and then finally you have fluffy white clouds underneath you, the sun proud and radiant in your eyes, and the tiny specks of ice on the other side of the thick glass.
A friend's 4-year-old son once asked his mother (after a discussion of the matters of faith and God being up in heaven): "Mom, is a person's soul glad when it's aboard a plane?" Mine sure is. :)
***
When you want the world to care about you, it usually doesn't. You go out of your way to get its attention, and all to no avail. However, sometimes, when you simply want to have a meal and go to get it wearing very plain clothes and no makeup and boasting more than a few scratches and bruises from yesterday's encounter with dead corals -- maybe even limping because you've cut your heel on one of them -- the world makes a fuss about you, offers to buy you drinks and wants to walk you back to your room. Go figure.
***
The moment I see the main beach, I know I don't want it. So I wade knee-deep for seven minutes or so to a nice little man-made island, a place for those who don't care about the proximity of the beach bar. On the far side, there's a parapet and a pile of huge rocks separating the artificial lagoon from the open sea. I climb over the pile, getting a few new grazes each time, and plop into the delightfully warm salty water, reaching to about my armpits. I take several more steps forward and get surrounded by a real swirl of fish. I raise my hands a little, spreading my fingers, and they are all around me right near the surface, looking at me curiously and even trying to figure out whether I taste any good.
The bits of dead coral, thrown around by the explosion that created the lagoon, look a little depressing at the first sight. However, when I come near them, I see new curious pink growths on them. A dark yellow sponge has stuck to one side; the other is full of holes, and the holes are full of sea urchins. "We don't bother them, and, so far, they don't bother us." (c)
I climb over the pile of rocks back to the island, philosophical mode on.
***
In a large bit of hole-y dead coral, there lives a palm-sized brown and yellow striped crab. It peeks out curiously during low tide, but only if there are no cameras visible. After my three attempts at playing marine paparazzi, the entire gang of beach-goers starts greeting me with "So, any luck taking a shot of it today?" I shake my head. Crabs, after all, have a right to their privacy too.
***
At the beach towel booth. I hand over my towel card in exchange for a large yellow and white piece of fluffy cotton from a dreamy-looking guy.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
"Yes?"
(pointing down to just outside the booth) "Could you please hand me my boat?"
I look down to see a paper boat made from a magasine page. I giggle a little, pick it up and hand it over to the guy, whose face breaks into a smile of pure delight.
"Thanks so much, Miss!"
***
The hotel's all made up of one-floor cottages with nice little terraces perfect for sitting on in the evening. As it's a bit boring to just sit there, even with a huge Wodehouse book, I've learned to smuggle fruit from the restaurant buffet. (The guests are strongly discouraged to do so, because OMG!hygienic considerations!!) After each meal, I bring in something, like a good little squirrel: dates (best ever!!), guavas, chunks of oranges and persimmons, occasionally olives, and then sit out enjoying the loot with a glass of red wine. Forbidden fruit, quite literally.
***
Next to me is a very sweet Russian family whose vacation got messed up quite a bit by their 15-month-old daughter's teething. The kid is a tiny, quite fairy-like blonde creature that weighs about as much as a slim sparrow. Her parents and I usually say hi when we see each other, and my usual greeting to the girl is "Hi, pretty!" Which she loves so much she actually starts bouncing and clapping her hands every time I say it. I hope it helps with the painful teething in some way. :)
***
A local boy works for a windsurfing center and decides to hit on me at some point.
"Let's go to Hurghada tonight! I could show you the best places!"
I wonder idly about local attitudes to horny Western women seducing local minors. Can't be too positive.
The boy looks disappointed. "Is that because I'm black?"
I give him The Look, and now some part of my brain is trying to figure out the politically correct way to talk about a dark-skinned local person. I mean, "African Egyptian" really doesn't sound right, does it?
However, I tell the boy he should really go look for someone younger.
"But I'm...I'm...twenty-four!"
Kids are such kids. :)
***
One day, I am introduced to Rotana. Rotana is a lovely six-year-old mare, and for a couple of days, I'm content with just bringing her treats and letting her sniff me. Then on my last-but-one day, I finally break down and go for a morning ride -- because really, what are the chances of me ever trying an Arabian horse back home?
Bad thing: an animal that dainty makes me feel like a big lump totally unworthy of getting onto its back.
Good thing: she doesn't run. She flies along the coast, so that at some point I stop feeling the hoofbeat and just concentrate on holding on and keeping my balance. It's the fastest I've ever ridden, and it's scary, and I swear after the first try that I'll never do that again.
Guess what, I end up doing it twice more.
***
On my very first morning, as I'm walking to the beach, I notice a medium-sized bird perched on a tall dead tree. As I come closer, it becomes clear it's a bird of prey, with its typical expression of aristocratic disapproval. I'm not good at determining bird species, but Ancient Egypt > animal deities > falcon, so I nickname the bird Horus.
He keeps a careful eye on me every day I pass that spot. On the last day, I'm disappointed not to see him, say "oh well" and go to pick up my stuff, when suddenly Horus swoops down elegantly from the sky and settles on a rooftop, his eyes on me as usual.
I wave and head for the reception.
***
I love flying. No, not completely accurate: I love takeoffs. I even love bits of turbulence during takeoffs, when you get this illusion of falling for a teeny tiny instant, and then finally you have fluffy white clouds underneath you, the sun proud and radiant in your eyes, and the tiny specks of ice on the other side of the thick glass.
A friend's 4-year-old son once asked his mother (after a discussion of the matters of faith and God being up in heaven): "Mom, is a person's soul glad when it's aboard a plane?" Mine sure is. :)
***
When you want the world to care about you, it usually doesn't. You go out of your way to get its attention, and all to no avail. However, sometimes, when you simply want to have a meal and go to get it wearing very plain clothes and no makeup and boasting more than a few scratches and bruises from yesterday's encounter with dead corals -- maybe even limping because you've cut your heel on one of them -- the world makes a fuss about you, offers to buy you drinks and wants to walk you back to your room. Go figure.
***
The moment I see the main beach, I know I don't want it. So I wade knee-deep for seven minutes or so to a nice little man-made island, a place for those who don't care about the proximity of the beach bar. On the far side, there's a parapet and a pile of huge rocks separating the artificial lagoon from the open sea. I climb over the pile, getting a few new grazes each time, and plop into the delightfully warm salty water, reaching to about my armpits. I take several more steps forward and get surrounded by a real swirl of fish. I raise my hands a little, spreading my fingers, and they are all around me right near the surface, looking at me curiously and even trying to figure out whether I taste any good.
The bits of dead coral, thrown around by the explosion that created the lagoon, look a little depressing at the first sight. However, when I come near them, I see new curious pink growths on them. A dark yellow sponge has stuck to one side; the other is full of holes, and the holes are full of sea urchins. "We don't bother them, and, so far, they don't bother us." (c)
I climb over the pile of rocks back to the island, philosophical mode on.
***
In a large bit of hole-y dead coral, there lives a palm-sized brown and yellow striped crab. It peeks out curiously during low tide, but only if there are no cameras visible. After my three attempts at playing marine paparazzi, the entire gang of beach-goers starts greeting me with "So, any luck taking a shot of it today?" I shake my head. Crabs, after all, have a right to their privacy too.
***
At the beach towel booth. I hand over my towel card in exchange for a large yellow and white piece of fluffy cotton from a dreamy-looking guy.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
"Yes?"
(pointing down to just outside the booth) "Could you please hand me my boat?"
I look down to see a paper boat made from a magasine page. I giggle a little, pick it up and hand it over to the guy, whose face breaks into a smile of pure delight.
"Thanks so much, Miss!"
***
The hotel's all made up of one-floor cottages with nice little terraces perfect for sitting on in the evening. As it's a bit boring to just sit there, even with a huge Wodehouse book, I've learned to smuggle fruit from the restaurant buffet. (The guests are strongly discouraged to do so, because OMG!hygienic considerations!!) After each meal, I bring in something, like a good little squirrel: dates (best ever!!), guavas, chunks of oranges and persimmons, occasionally olives, and then sit out enjoying the loot with a glass of red wine. Forbidden fruit, quite literally.
***
Next to me is a very sweet Russian family whose vacation got messed up quite a bit by their 15-month-old daughter's teething. The kid is a tiny, quite fairy-like blonde creature that weighs about as much as a slim sparrow. Her parents and I usually say hi when we see each other, and my usual greeting to the girl is "Hi, pretty!" Which she loves so much she actually starts bouncing and clapping her hands every time I say it. I hope it helps with the painful teething in some way. :)
***
A local boy works for a windsurfing center and decides to hit on me at some point.
"Let's go to Hurghada tonight! I could show you the best places!"
I wonder idly about local attitudes to horny Western women seducing local minors. Can't be too positive.
The boy looks disappointed. "Is that because I'm black?"
I give him The Look, and now some part of my brain is trying to figure out the politically correct way to talk about a dark-skinned local person. I mean, "African Egyptian" really doesn't sound right, does it?
However, I tell the boy he should really go look for someone younger.
"But I'm...I'm...twenty-four!"
Kids are such kids. :)
***
One day, I am introduced to Rotana. Rotana is a lovely six-year-old mare, and for a couple of days, I'm content with just bringing her treats and letting her sniff me. Then on my last-but-one day, I finally break down and go for a morning ride -- because really, what are the chances of me ever trying an Arabian horse back home?
Bad thing: an animal that dainty makes me feel like a big lump totally unworthy of getting onto its back.
Good thing: she doesn't run. She flies along the coast, so that at some point I stop feeling the hoofbeat and just concentrate on holding on and keeping my balance. It's the fastest I've ever ridden, and it's scary, and I swear after the first try that I'll never do that again.
Guess what, I end up doing it twice more.
***
On my very first morning, as I'm walking to the beach, I notice a medium-sized bird perched on a tall dead tree. As I come closer, it becomes clear it's a bird of prey, with its typical expression of aristocratic disapproval. I'm not good at determining bird species, but Ancient Egypt > animal deities > falcon, so I nickname the bird Horus.
He keeps a careful eye on me every day I pass that spot. On the last day, I'm disappointed not to see him, say "oh well" and go to pick up my stuff, when suddenly Horus swoops down elegantly from the sky and settles on a rooftop, his eyes on me as usual.
I wave and head for the reception.