What better time to become a faux travel writer, or at least live the fantasy of actually being a travel writer than to go on holiday alone.
Not the first time i might add, and it always seems to involve the things for which i have passion snowboarding in Morzine for three weeks alone, ..kite surfing in Egypt alone, …and i also distinctly remember the other holiday of passion, 17 hours alone on a plane to Tokyo, ..clearly the things i love the most are worth the solitude.
But now back to the present, …a question lingered in my mind, do i linger, wait my turn for friends, acquaintances or anyone for that matter to come on my kite surfing adventure, ..well i tried, but they did not bite, and in my world we pursue the things we love regardless of whether we can find a willing partner in crime or not.
So i booked it, 10 days in Ras Sudr, in the eastern Sinai peninsula of Egypt.
I almost didn’t make it though, me, ..Mr. always leave enough time for everything, up at 6am, to the tube, headphones producing a combination of Ms Allen and Ms Nash, always guaranteed to start my day with a smile (no lyric pun intended), but us Londoners should know that no amount of contingency planning can ever predict that great urban phenomenon that is The Tube.
Everything was going so well, …until …
SIGNAL FAILURE
…i tell you, rest assured, there is nothing more painful in terms of ticking time than sitting in-between stations for 40 minutes whilst the signals fail, work, fail, work, and the particularly unenthusiastic driver tells you that we are all doomed …so to speak.
Suffice to say broken signals can be ignored (i know, don’t fall over just yet with the knowledge that train drivers are a law unto themselves) as long as you drive through them at 4 mph, stopping abruptly every 20 metres.
Time goes slowly, but the clock ticks faster.
Having planned to arrive at the airport for 7am, we pull in at 8:05, …and i ran, …no mean feat when lugging 39kgs behind you.
39 kgs i here you exclaim, ..yes, ..39kg, ….how was i to know that BMI refuse to take any bag that weighs in over 32kgs.
I was not in the mood to start my ‘fat people weigh more than me therefore i should be allowed to take more baggage’ routine, and luckily i had a bag in a bag, ..so, remove 14m kite from bag, layout on departure lounge floor, repack, and then attempt checkin again.
Checkin successful, ..finally. Proceed to gate.
At this point i should mention that the departure board does not say ‘proceed to gate 23′ it does in fact say ‘flight closing!’ ..not something i have ever had the pleasure of running by at speeds before.
But this is the UK, ..it is security check time first, and of course i picked the right queue, the queue with only 7 people in it compared to 30+ in all of the others, ..of course these 7 people where a slightly disorganized muslim family, who potentially hadn’t travelled by air in this current climate of airport security induced humiliation.
Suffice to say they were not too efficient at removing there bags, jackets, belts, earrings and eventually modesty, ..and i felt for them, i really did, especially as i knew the implanted metal in my arm would only cause a wry smile but no delay, …but racial sympathy was not my calling card at that moment, …getting to the gate was.
I will not dwell on this any longer, those that know me will know that i may have been smiling, but there was no joy on my face.
I got through, ..i ran, ran, ran, ..i felt like an idiot, i always mock those who don’t leave enough time and have to sprint through terminals speedily re-fastening all of their metal appendages back onto themselves from whence they had just been removed, ….dignity of course does not get re-applied until one is well and truly seated on aircraft.
I made it, ..i would say to cut a long story short, but clearly there is no short story option with me a the helm, but i did make it. Just.
So still no missed flight to my name.
The flight was very very uneventful, as uneventful as any flight where you are in the aisle, with ’sleeping window-closers’ on both sides, …even Lily and Kate couldn’t fix that, so i resorted to listening to Kanye and tapping my foot in a likely irritating manner.
From the clouds we descended on Cairo, ..12˚C and windy, …everyone else looked a little disappointed as they emerged from our pressurized container, ..i smiled to myself, .and wrapped my scarf a little tighter as i followed signs to pandemonium.
UK nationals do not require a visa to enter Egypt i was told, …on board however i was informed that even if you are a carpet you must still fill in one of those entry cards, ..you know the ones “have you ever been convicted of terrorist crimes?”, “have you ever been tried as a war criminal?” ..that sort of thing.
All of the ‘no’ boxes ticked i proceeded to passport control, smiling to myself as the americans looked set for a thorough bit of interrogation, ..i think it’s called it karma.
‘Salaam Ale-chum’ …smile, hand passport, …passport returned with little piece of paper with ‘$15′ written on it, …now i am know stranger to bribing border policeman, ..but this is Cairo main airport for gods sake, this is not supposed to be happening, ..plus, English pounds, Egyptian pounds, these i have, dollars, none.
Not in the mood for bartering i pull out the local currency equivalent and go to hand it over, but it is refused and the paper is once again thrust at me, this time with what appears to be mumblings of the word ‘visa’ …a word i fully understand even if a little unexpected, but the words are accompanied by pointing, pointing in the direction of one of the 2 banks located before! passport control.
And then the penny drops, for me and those around me (for again, those that know me well enough already ascertained that i may have been at the front of the queue, the first to experience this ‘refusal of entry’).
To summarize for those still feeling a little confused (and rest assured there was still a plane load of them behind me) when entering Egypt, although a visa is not required to be sought from ones own country, you will still be buying a little sticker with the word ‘Visa’ written on it to satisfy the man at passport control.
$15 is not something to me annoyed at, and how could i be as i watched countless brit after brit fall foul to the same scenario, realizing that although i thought i had been slow to comprehend the complete picture, there are others that are worse, far worse.
Through passport control and out pop my bags, not first, but first enough for me to acknowledge another karma point, and off i trundle to the arrivals lounge, ….but wait, this is not Europe my dear boy, this is a country of Allah, and in such places one simply cannot just arrive, one must first obey the local customs of taxi refusal. For it would seem, or at least this is impression given to the locals, that many many people arrive without knowledge or concept of where they are going, and these people of course would like ‘Taxi’, they would like their bags grappled from them and they would like to be assured, re-assured and then insisted to that their chosen ‘driver’ (and i use the term very loosely here) is by far the best and cheapest in this holy land.
All that remains to be said about that is that i am well versed in the dialect of abject point blank refusal with a smile. I have been to Tangiers you know.
I don’t think i have ever had a sign held up for me at arrivals, (those wishing to meet me in the future should definitely consider it a path to my heart, especially if you could spell my name in a comical fashion), and this time was no different i hasten to add, but there was a man, the kind of man who i might actually want to get into a taxi with, and he had a sign, it said ‘Club Mistral’ and although i had been informed to look out for a ‘desk’ i considered this to be the loosest interpretation of said ‘desk’ so strode towards him with a smile.
This was Chomood, my first Egyptian friend.
Chomood met me with a smile, and an L&M light, and who was i to refuse such a lovely gesture, i know i know, i have quit smoking this holiday in pursuit of health and happiness, but this was courtesy, and the rules can be bent a little.
Equally pleased to see me (i guess you never know whether you will get one easy going guy or a family who require much attention) we swiftly departed the arrivals hall and headed to the dodgems outside, which for those of you who have ever driven in a North African country you will be able to imagine what the set down and pick up point of an airport can be like.
We called our driver to emerge from wherever he was hiding to provide us with transport, but next came my biggest surprise of all, from nowhere appeared a man, whom knew Chomood, who, without turning it into a longer story than needs be, gave me back my $15 visa money.
I could not believe it, here i was, in Egypt for 5 minutes and i had been given cigarettes and money back from people i did not know. This was not Tangiers.
Into the minibus we piled, well, i piled, entire minibus to myself, and off we trundled into the desert, ….what can i say about a 2 hour transfer from the airport that we have not all experienced, i can’t make it sound exciting even with the excellent turkish coffee at the rest stop, or the tunnel under the Suez Canal. I can say though that at this point, after passport control, customs and 3 checkpoints later, i was damn pleased to to be ‘carrying’.
At the Ramada we arrive, well i arrive, for i fear i am the only person here (a fear that turns out to be almost true if you don’t count 5 Egyptian business men and a lone western women whose agenda i am yet to ascertain).
There is something about there being around 8 members of staff to every guest at a hotel that becomes slightly tiresome, especially when they are all desperately trying to outdo each other in levels of service, but as i was very hungry, and pleased to be finished traveling, i smiled a lot, and said my thank-you’s.
After dinner cam my next priority, internet, for i only stay at hotels with internet, it is an unfortunate pre-requisite of my work, if i want to be able to go anywhere and everywhere i please, when i want, i need the world wide web. Yes i can ‘un-plug’ for a few weeks, but this was not one of those times.
A simple enquiry at reception before dinner had provided me with the promise of a manager providing me with some sort of card i had to buy (credit of some form i assumed), within the hour, so i amused myself with dinner, more coffee (starting to feel it now) and billiards (nothing like to playing billiards alone to pass the time to suddenly make you realize you come on holiday alone).
Finally the manager appears, you want internet he tells me, you come with me, so i follow into the bowels of the hotel, wondering what tasks i may have to succumb to in order to gain my access, only to be led into a room that contains a number of circuit boards, held together ‘inshallah’ and connected to a monitor that flickered at a measly 640×480.
I won’t transcribe the conversation that followed, suffice to say, there is internet, …here, ..not on my laptop. Full stop.
f**k.
Oh well, …what to do, …what can one do when prevented from work, …write, well it seems like a good idea, ..and kite surf. It seems a better idea.
So an early night and off to bed i go.
Sleeping without the aid of my bed time joint for the first time in too long i don’t really want to think about it, takes a while. But it happens, and i sleep.
Sunshine and wind greet me in the morning, and breakfast weighs heavy on my mind. Foolish me, when is a hotel with 160 rooms going to crank out a top notch breakfast fit for a days kite surfing when they have all of 7 guests!
To top that off though, halfway through my 2 rolls and jam, along comes an ever helpful member of staff to enquire if i have finished (i think i had been staring out of the window for a considerable time at this point),
“No, Thank you” i firmly yet courteously inform him, at which point he simply picks up my plate and walks off, i am in disbelief, and even though i don’t always feel it, British, so i am left no choice than to run after him ,tackle him to the floor and retrieve my roll.
Did i fuck, i just sat there in quiet acceptance of course.
Breakfast all but finished i wander to the beach, which if i am honest, is nearer my room than the hotel lobby, and here i sit, finishing off what i lost interest in last night, these words, that i hurry now slightly more as the sun begins to warm me, and i feel the need to get into my wetsuit, although it will certainly be my 5mm winter suit, for although there is sun, it is not ‘hot’, and the wind provides a constant chill.
Who am i to complain, i was in the English channel not 2 weekends ago, so time to go and fulfill my purpose.
6pm and it is all over, well, over at 5 in fact, but sand removal from all garments and bodily crevices does take an hour you know.
How was it, fantastic of course, the morning had elements of initial frustration, me deciding i needed my 14m, but being advised to take the 9m, not wanting to seem the cocky amateur i listened, but was in the end right, i know me and my kites better it would seem, so a morning spent being under powered was replaced by an afternoon session that ended the day perfectly, me and 1 other Egyptian local with the entire sea to ourselves passing good vibes between us as we frontloop and backloop in sync.
I did have the whole sea to myself for the rest of the day, but it is always a little better to have someone to share it with me thinks, someone to push you that little bit further, ..and tomorrow i can pick right up where i left off today, which is what these back to back days are all about.
But tomorrow with less lunch, as after my breakfast had been ‘confiscated’ come lunch i was slightly starving, so i ordered a burger, chips and salad, …silly me, salad was huge, burger was huge, and had salad on the side anyway.
I am not someone who believes in wasting food, but at the same time i will not make myself ill on something i have paid for, but there is a much larger sense of guilt and consequence when wasting food in a primarily impoverished country.
Admitting it has done nothing to lessen my guilt.
So now i am bathed, and ready for …what exactly. To say ‘nothing’ would be to admit defeat. To kill time drinking coffee and playing billiards alone would be to deny defeat, and pay a costly premium for said denial.
I shall use my wits, and try not to return to this story until i have something of consequence to say.
Making dinner last as long as possible, then in turn doing the same service to sleep, seems to also be newly acquired skills, well the dinner part anyway, the sleep, this is a skill at mentally blocking out the thought of the single mosquito that i failed to kill just before bed time. I missed, i couldn’t believe it, i was perched one legged on a bedside table, magazine in hand, as he/she/it sat knowingly where the wall meets the ceiling, all the same, i missed, and for this i would be punished.
No amount of Incognito (and fair amount was used) would protect me when there was always going to be a 10 hour window of opportunity, even as i occasionally woke up in the night to hear that dreaded high pitched sound as it whizzed by on reconnaissance, instinctively slapping myself across the face. Not even my pre-bedtime prowl around the room, analyzing every nook and cranny trying to find the little bloodsucking monster.
So it won, and index finger at the base and a thumb, now big swollen and itchy. My only remedy, to kite them from my mind.
Today the sun is shining, the sky is clear blue and cloudless, and even though the wind has lessened, i know it will pick up through out the day, so i feel a good day ahead.
And what day cannot be good when started with the classical movie soundtrack CD that seems to be the hotel favourite, it blasts through the dining room in speakers that definitely cannot cope with sound of any level, and then, there are speakers placed around the hotel grounds where the same said music continues to play throughout the day. Although the CD changes i don’t think i will ever remove the memory of breakfast and a walk back to my room to the sounds of Top Gun, that mood evoking track they play 3 or 4 times in the movie whenever they successfully come back to base after a mission, …dun-daaa, dun-da-da-da-da-da, dun-da ….
…enough, let’s hit the beach.
I would appear to have missed a day, you see here i sit, not later in the day aforementioned above day, but in fact an entire 24 hours later, which means two things, firstly, things don’t change, what i did yesterday is what i did today, and i promised only to report in if something of consequence happened. …ok, life is never completely without event, but event could be summarized in bullet points if i chose to:
- kite surfed
- stopped kite surfing
- shower
- stamp my feet about the internet not working
- kill 2 hours before dinner
- dinner
- kill two hours after dinner
- bed
- start again
..ok so i am missing out a few bits and pieces here, i did get that bloody mosquito last night, ..2am he woke me up, next to my ear, i flapped, he hid, i searched, but this time i found him nestling on the underside of my mattress, and i assure you i did not miss a second time.
Then there is the delightful english family i met, who for a brief period have provided me with much enjoyment. A father who takes his family kite surfing, and buys himself a new Ducati 848 is clearly my kind of man, and if he has a daughter who wants to take photos of me kitesurfing, well, what can i say to that (especially given my constant lament as to never having any photographic evidence of my exploits).
Now back to the internet issue, yes it still remains unsolved, and it looks like it will remain this way, we huddle around laptops, exchange IP’s, DNS setting and other sets of numbers separated by dots. I can get 30 minutes a day in the managers office, but this is less than desirable, costly, and, here comes the best bit, ….dial up!!
So this ‘little!’ travelogue which was intended to be a daily upload in many small digestible chunks, seems instead to have become a mammoth single upload, of which i am a little terrified to unleash onto you, and that is with the arrogant assumption that you will ever read it (it is so tempting to just put in little messages to my mum, as she is the only one i am certain will make it this far, thanks mum :)).
Nonetheless i shall as otherwise i might as well just be talking to myself.
Today was another great day for the world or Marcus’s kiteboarding, my teacher was videoing me, and then we would sit and watch it back together, looking at the finer points, …i know you can think of nothing you would rather do less, but it was such a great help, and led to an afternoon of firmly sticking every trick i attempted, so now i feel fantastic.
Along comes the weekend, which for the islamic among you, you will already be aware this commences on Friday, and up pop the local kiters, and by local i don’t mean from Ras Sudr itself, but from Cairo, well, one of him anyway. Marc. Marc was an american vice principal of an international school in Cairo, Marc was amazing, because for one evening only i played pool, with another person, ate, with another person, had conversation, with another person ,and then went to bed feeling wholly fulfilled, NOT with another person :)
It is funny though, you spend an amount of time alone, and suddenly when you are confronted by the requirements of social interaction it becomes not so much strange, i am not entirely sure how to describe it, only to finish by saying that although i was very grateful for the evening company, i was equally grateful to be eating breakfast alone again.
Today is Saturday, and today has not been my best day by a long way, for starters the wind is not enough for my kite, and having broken my larger kite this made for a frustrating morning session, however what compounded this was the arrival of the other locals, 2 French, 1 South African, 2 Germans and 2 Brits, which should be a most welcoming arrival, if only for the day, and they were all lovely, except one, the head honcho, mr cool, mr uk cool, mr i am not going to talk to you because you threaten my status here, …there was just something going on there that really pissed me off, and i am not someone to usually dwell on these things, normally i would just go and inverted front loop on his arse from 3 metres (which incidentally i did :) ) but strangely this did nothing to quell the anger he stirred up inside me by just being such a cock (sorry mum) but it was true. I hope i am never like this, and if i am, someone, everyone, must tell me immediately.
So the wind dies in the afternoon, must be ‘cocks’ karma caching up with him, but it has not left me feeling great, when everything goes good the little bad things are easily overlooked, but not today. In fact i had to do a search of this now mammoth piece of literature (or rubbish, that is open to opinion) for the word shower just to see if i had actually moaned about the showers yet, ..and i had not, i could not believe it, .well now is that time.
You see the bath is small, very very small, small enough actually that i believe it may just be an oddly shaped shower cubicle, and of course, it has no plug, ..so bath is out, which after kiting isn’t great, but ho hum, have a shower and don’t moan about it.
Oh no, the shower you see functions like this. When you turn it on it barely trickles out cold water, akin to a child having a pee on you (so i imagine), and this carries on for most of the time, to the point that every twenty seconds or so the shower just gives up and due to a lack of any distinct volume of water, goes back to flowing from the tap, …very annoying, but not so annoying because let’s be honest, i can’t even rinse my shorts in that never mind my me.
But, …every minute of so, things pick up, out comes water at the desired temperature, it flows, it feels amazing, in contrast, and i smile. This last for approximately 5-7 seconds, …then back to cold piss.
I am surprised i have not come to mention this thus far, now i have, i feel no better at all, and still am covered in a thin layer of salt that grows ever thicker by the day. Oh how i look forward to that bath i shall have when i get home.
Now back to that old gem the internet, apparently it is fixed, ..but by fixed they mean it only works on the main terrace, fine by me, except the main terrace is bathed in Sinai sun all day with no hope of seeing a monitor, so tonight i will be sitting in the cold dark, trying to wade through my mails, which i shall most likely give up on as the connection speed is now officially slower than dial-up. For example, GMail, in plain HTML mode, take 4 minutes 23 seconds to load my inbox, and around 2-4 minutes for any subsequent page navigation, …..so that is no to facebook then, no to trying to access mogmachine to upload this story-quickly-turning-to-rant, and no to most other applications of the web, other than proving it exists.
I did wish to quantify this by using my mogmachine-hosting.com speed test, but of course this would not even load :)
I am actually not as annoyed as i sound, and i guess i sound pretty annoyed, …i am in fact not annoyed in the slightest, i just manage a wry grin to myself and continue, plus, this is not bad that day 5 is the first bad wind day, and only then have i had time to think about my moans.
So i shall now desist, moaning aside i am still a super happy stoked little kite surfer.
Now time to kill the time to dinner. Sunset and a movie.
I have given up on world wide web access, and it would appear the world wide web has given up trying to access me, as when i do get a few minutes online i find that people have simply stopped emailing me.
Maybe next time i have a big deadline i should also setup an auto responder, they seem to be all powerful at keep humans at bay.
Today was my last day here in Ras Sudr, and i intended to make an effort to kite for as much of it as i could, which i did, but alas the wind dropped at lunchtime and so i was only granted a slightly underpowered morning session, to which i should not complain as the wind has been so consistently good (even if this consistency is not consistent with what is consistent here) i have not even thought about the concept of there not being sufficient wind to kite.
It was a surreal silence to say the least, but made better by the sunshine and heat bought on by the drop of wind.
Having said my goodbyes to my new Egyptian kiting friends, and given out my two sizable tips i retreated to my room to pack my things.
I want to back track a second to the tipping thing, i do not know if it is a cultural or personal thing that defines if and how one tips, but i am fully aware of being in a culture where tipping is granted as the accepted and required norm for service. This however can make one feel very uncomfortable, especially when during a single meal one may find up to eight serving staff approach the table, some multiple times, to enquire how ones meal is/was.
Perhaps in a busier time of year i would not have had the attention of ALL of the staff but that as it may, this is now, and i do, however my mind was made up a long time ago.
You see for me those who work in the service industry are bound to provide service, that is their job, therefore reward is due to those not that provide service, but exceptional service, and sometimes, more often than not this is a personal opinion on what makes the service exceptional, and on this occasion exception is defined by knowing when to stand back, knowing when the customer wants their peace, and offering service because service is required, not because it is required to offer service.
I am sure others have their own interpretation of this procedure, or feel intimidated enough to follow implied procedure, i just know what i do and why i do it, more than that i do not have to justify.
An early morning dawn checkout usually assists with this.
So goodbyes said, i retreat to my room, where the heavens open, a welcome relief for the land, and a gentle easing back into the lifestyle of the land i shall soon return to.
Tomorrow however, i become a tourist, for i could not leave this land without glimpsing its wonders, so tomorrow at dawn i head to Cairo via the pyramids, about which i am sure i shall have more to say tomorrow.
Now, my final meal here, to which i look forward to very much.
A little while later i am pretty sure that i am going to get it a lot easier than most of the people here when we get to Heathrow passport control. Yes i have made it all the way to the departure gate without even opening my laptop, ..ok, not entirely true, let’s step back 24 hours shall we.
Goodbye Ras Sudr, pretty uneventful really, and then begins my sole day as a tourist, and what fun it was, and how thankful i am that it was only a single day.
I had my own driver, my own drivers accomplice, and my own tour guide, i felt pretty special with my little encourage, i know i was paying for it, but how can you come to Egypt without seeing big piles of rocks, and plus, what does a price mean to me when quoted in US dollars, i just see the word bargain flashing up above my head.
Cairo is mental, like any other major arab city that just so happens to contain 20 million people, one fifth of the population of the country (see i do listen to what they tell me), luckily most viewed from inside of our little minibus, not that i do not like to immerse myself in other peoples cities and culture, but i like to do it my way, incognito, not flanked by my entourage, i might as well wear a neon sign saying ‘westerner with money here’.
So first stop the Egyptian museum which if i was to say this is their version of the british museum i would be correct, it pretty much is the british museum, only more rocks.
My guide was an Egyptologist with 3 degrees, 4 years of studying hieroglyphics and a number of other notable letters and certificates, she was lovely, and we had a fantastic time, but the thing with museums on this degree is that there was so much stuff that if you spent one minute looking at each display, it would take you 3 months to get around the whole lot, and as when i give someone directions (so i am told) your brain just switches off after a while. There were however images taken in by my eyes that will remain in my mind for the rest of my life, even if the words that accompanied them went in one ear and out the other (i am not as ignorant as i sound, you try it).
I think the strangest thing for me was the immense amount of people, all nationalities, shapes, sizes, you name it, they were there, and after my virtual solitude and my general annoyance at the touristic types, was a lot for little old me to handle.
Then to the pyramids. All i can say is that i add another notch to my seven wonders list. I think the main purpose for me to see such things is to put scale in the mind for future thoughts, as we all know what the pyramids look like, it is just a question of being able to relate the sheer scale of them. But they do not tell you the sheer scale of tourists, aaargh, i hate it, i am such a bad tourist. I have seen the Pyramids. Game Over.
A little guide induced shopping (she was so nice i do not feel to moan about this, anyone who has taken a guide knows what i am talking about), and then finally, to my new hotel. Hell yes for the executive suite, high speed internet, and most importantly a giant bath. This was up there with with my all time greatest baths.
Next, the emails. All of them, i waded through the lot, and then got stuck into the latest batch of changes for my Sky job, until midnight. The holiday is over, welcome back to reality with a thud.
So six hours of sleep later and it is off to the airport where i sit now completing this epic journal that it would seem will only ever be uploaded in one giant chunk, oh well, travel writer i certainly am not but this has been nice, really nice, and if you have stuck through this to the end, all i can say is thanks for not asking me about my holiday and finding out for yourself.
Now reality calls. Over and out.
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