Oh, Good Morning Egypt!
Against my very nature, I was up at dawn and had made my way across the road from the hotel to the beach in order to watch the sun rise. Me! I know...shocking. Impressing myself by being almost on time for it, I gazed across the gulf of Aqaba to see the sun making its way up and over the ranges that made up what I could see of Saudi Arabia.
I'd been told that morning was a glorious thing - hitherto, I wasn't so keen to risk disappointment, but breathing in the morning air, trying my level best to feel awake and invigorated, I could see that it was indeed very pretty - although perhaps not more so than sunset, which also happens daily, but at a decent time.
Thoughts of a morning yoga session - saluting the sun - were thankfully quashed by the stony nature of the beach. So I sat down to contemplate the things I needed to contemplate - which, after a few days of Egypt soothing my soul, were very few.
Must.
Stay.
On.
Beach.
If you're going to get up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise, you have to squeeze as much milage out of it as possible, no matter how much the part of the brain that dictates your core personality might be saying 'Sun is up. Experience crossed off the list. I can go back to bed now'.
I mollified that part of my brain by promising it breakfast very soon.
Sitting on a stone on the beach, I look up to see a dog running towards me. This, in itself, is not unusual in Dahab - the place is filled with wild dogs and cats - so much so, I had started a game... (which, admittedly never really caught on due to, I like to think, a lack of readily available time keeping devices) ...called 'time the cat'. You would be entirely correct to assume that it's a time trial: - your dinner gets served then you time how long it is between the plate hitting the table and the first cat showing up, begging for food. You never have to wait long. Diners at the good establishments in Dahab not only get their hands washed with warm water and lime juice and free entrees (ohhh... the best baba ganoush I've ever had!) - they also get a spray bottle of water to ward off unwelcome visitors.
So, back to the dog.
He's happily running towards me with that big, pleased happydog! look on his face. The dog, who was a regular at the hotel, had been named Newie. He, obviously, was newer than the previous dog. Always a happydog! with plenty of tourists to tell him that he's a good boy in a multitude of languages, I could see it was even happier today by the acquisition of the biggest stick on the beach - a good 2 metres long. I was in the process of trying to think of what kind of tree it had found that had grown that large on the edge of the Sinai (...that wasn't a Palm...) when the dog got close enough for me to realise - that's no stick. He had the complete foreleg of an animal. After much deliberation, I settled on the likely victim to have been a camel. From foot to femur. Hoof to hip. How and where did the dog get an entire foreleg of a camel?!?
It was on the night of our departure, when we were in the van, heading back to Sharm Al Sheik that I saw the likely source of Newie's pleasure - there are exposed mass graves of camels in the desert. How and why they got there, I don't know. Are they like the elephants and have ancestoral places to die, or is that where the camel's owners dump them when they can't take the tourists fat arses anymore? So much for a straw breaking a camel's back. Well. Suddenly I felt really bad about the camel trip I'd organised for the group. There were about 9 of us crowded onto a single camel! Well, not quite, but was our amusement killing these animals? (Probably not).
At least our amusement was very amusing:
"the best £5 I ever spent - I've not had this much fun since that night at Hove"
was the enthusiastic endorsement of one particularly happy customer. I'm unsure if the camel was consenting or not. Maybe they die of shock? One camel in particular, was not looking in the best of health. I can't really describe what the side of its face was doing.
I really enjoyed the camel ride - not to the same level as my aforementioned companion, but really enjoyed it, nonetheless. Camels are REALLY TALL. When they stand up, they almost throw you off to the front and then to the back (hmmm... this seems to be supporting the theory that they're not enjoying it as much as we are), which engages my internal squeaking device. They have a lumbering, swaying gait which is fun. We went for about 20 minutes up a valley and into the desert to have a cup of tea with the Bedouins, who, in large, ignored us.
The Bedouin children had created an amazing maze of coloured rocks-
We lost Vimal.
We found him again!
Phew. That was close.
The children were playing 'slide down the mountainside' - a popular game in those parts. Making use of what you have. The adults had built us a mesmerising fire to sit alongside.
And, as we rode back towards the resort, the train of camels turned a bend, and lo! before us, the full moon had risen, bathing the sea, the desert, the camels, and indeed, ourselves in its cool light and beauteous mystery. And I didn't even have to get up ridiculously early for that!
Against my very nature, I was up at dawn and had made my way across the road from the hotel to the beach in order to watch the sun rise. Me! I know...shocking. Impressing myself by being almost on time for it, I gazed across the gulf of Aqaba to see the sun making its way up and over the ranges that made up what I could see of Saudi Arabia.
I'd been told that morning was a glorious thing - hitherto, I wasn't so keen to risk disappointment, but breathing in the morning air, trying my level best to feel awake and invigorated, I could see that it was indeed very pretty - although perhaps not more so than sunset, which also happens daily, but at a decent time.
Thoughts of a morning yoga session - saluting the sun - were thankfully quashed by the stony nature of the beach. So I sat down to contemplate the things I needed to contemplate - which, after a few days of Egypt soothing my soul, were very few.
Must.
Stay.
On.
Beach.
If you're going to get up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise, you have to squeeze as much milage out of it as possible, no matter how much the part of the brain that dictates your core personality might be saying 'Sun is up. Experience crossed off the list. I can go back to bed now'.
I mollified that part of my brain by promising it breakfast very soon.
Sitting on a stone on the beach, I look up to see a dog running towards me. This, in itself, is not unusual in Dahab - the place is filled with wild dogs and cats - so much so, I had started a game... (which, admittedly never really caught on due to, I like to think, a lack of readily available time keeping devices) ...called 'time the cat'. You would be entirely correct to assume that it's a time trial: - your dinner gets served then you time how long it is between the plate hitting the table and the first cat showing up, begging for food. You never have to wait long. Diners at the good establishments in Dahab not only get their hands washed with warm water and lime juice and free entrees (ohhh... the best baba ganoush I've ever had!) - they also get a spray bottle of water to ward off unwelcome visitors.
So, back to the dog.
He's happily running towards me with that big, pleased happydog! look on his face. The dog, who was a regular at the hotel, had been named Newie. He, obviously, was newer than the previous dog. Always a happydog! with plenty of tourists to tell him that he's a good boy in a multitude of languages, I could see it was even happier today by the acquisition of the biggest stick on the beach - a good 2 metres long. I was in the process of trying to think of what kind of tree it had found that had grown that large on the edge of the Sinai (...that wasn't a Palm...) when the dog got close enough for me to realise - that's no stick. He had the complete foreleg of an animal. After much deliberation, I settled on the likely victim to have been a camel. From foot to femur. Hoof to hip. How and where did the dog get an entire foreleg of a camel?!?
It was on the night of our departure, when we were in the van, heading back to Sharm Al Sheik that I saw the likely source of Newie's pleasure - there are exposed mass graves of camels in the desert. How and why they got there, I don't know. Are they like the elephants and have ancestoral places to die, or is that where the camel's owners dump them when they can't take the tourists fat arses anymore? So much for a straw breaking a camel's back. Well. Suddenly I felt really bad about the camel trip I'd organised for the group. There were about 9 of us crowded onto a single camel! Well, not quite, but was our amusement killing these animals? (Probably not).
At least our amusement was very amusing:
"the best £5 I ever spent - I've not had this much fun since that night at Hove"
was the enthusiastic endorsement of one particularly happy customer. I'm unsure if the camel was consenting or not. Maybe they die of shock? One camel in particular, was not looking in the best of health. I can't really describe what the side of its face was doing.
I really enjoyed the camel ride - not to the same level as my aforementioned companion, but really enjoyed it, nonetheless. Camels are REALLY TALL. When they stand up, they almost throw you off to the front and then to the back (hmmm... this seems to be supporting the theory that they're not enjoying it as much as we are), which engages my internal squeaking device. They have a lumbering, swaying gait which is fun. We went for about 20 minutes up a valley and into the desert to have a cup of tea with the Bedouins, who, in large, ignored us.
The Bedouin children had created an amazing maze of coloured rocks-
We lost Vimal.
We found him again!
Phew. That was close.
The children were playing 'slide down the mountainside' - a popular game in those parts. Making use of what you have. The adults had built us a mesmerising fire to sit alongside.
And, as we rode back towards the resort, the train of camels turned a bend, and lo! before us, the full moon had risen, bathing the sea, the desert, the camels, and indeed, ourselves in its cool light and beauteous mystery. And I didn't even have to get up ridiculously early for that!
