It shits me. Even in this country they just assume that there's no way in hell I'd wear it any way other than straight..... I don't think it's permanent, but who knows? The whole procedure was conducted in Arabic and, I don't speak Arabic! That said he did a damn good job on the cut itself, even though he used some strange contraption, and I was panicking. "Cheating on your husband" (ie going to a different hairdresser after over 6 years of joyful, but one sided I guess, monogamy) is much easier the second time around.......So anyway, I'm back in Cairo this afternoon after many, many hours traipsing through the desert, firstly to get to the Red Sea from Luxor, and secondly, to get back to Cairo..... Even so, three glorious days of this was well worth the effort:
....and that's without the polarising filter! Snorkelling the above reef was even better than scuba diving in Aqaba on the Saudi Border. There were a million times more beautiful fish, and there was coral in good nick close to the surface. Stunning.
And, there was a beach where I could wear a bikini and not have to swim fully clothed..... We were out on the boat all day yesterday, swimming and snorkelling on some beaches and islands (Paradise Island below) and there was nothing but this for miles. It was nicer than Fiji!
After strutting across the beach with Henry, he did ask me what I thought people were saying about "that young girl with that old fag". I laughed and said "they probably think you're my father" - the look he gave me clearly indicated that he was horrified at the thought of ever having been in a position (no pun intended) to procreate with a woman.... I was still laughing four hours later, as was the lady (with the pendulous breasts, as Henry pointed out) sitting behind us on the beach, earwigging on our conversation which ranged from the bitchy to the wildly inappropriate and back again.....
Last night I had dinner with my "parents" Coralie and Alan one last time.... I had another welcome lecture from Alan on travelling safe for the rest of my trip at which Coralie said "Jesus Alan, she spent over three months in South America on her own. She's probably safer on her own than we are". It was cute.
Well, I lied. I think there's one more temple to come out my wazoo before I leave Egypt - which I'll visit with Tarek tomorrow, on route to my bona fide Egyptian dinner with his mother in Heliopolis (for which I'm not entirely sure yet whether the purchase of a burkha will be necessary).
And another FAQ in response to this email from the friend who sent me Billy Joel: "I can't help but feel responsible that I have turned you into a self centred bitch of a tourist who couldn't give a flying fuck about the local economy or the offering entrepreneurs feelings" .
NO, I don't walk around telling Egyptians to "f*ck off" willy nilly. I've neglected to include commentary on the ways of Egyptian stall holders thus far, so my behaviourmay have seemed wildly inappropriate. Basically, everywhere in Egypt, especially around the temples and the shopping districts, the stallholders are aggressive to the point of employing physical means. They block your path as you walk by, and then try and herd you into their shop. The one time I did walk into a shop consensually, the guy asked if he could touch my hair, touched it anyway when I said "NO!" and then wouldn't let me out of the shop. The one time I bought something, I paid and then another "fee" was requested for some bullshit reason like "we forgot to include the fee for our number of words" or some similar crap and when I refused the stallholder asked me to kiss his son, who was already proferring his cheek..... (gross, he nearly got a slap). As I walk by they yell out "you are free, I am free, tonight we will both not be free" - now how's that for an attractive pick up line? The words "My husband is lying down in the hotel as he's not feeling well" have left my mouth more times than I care to remember, and I reached tipping point when I was waiting for the driver I'd arranged to pick me up (with iPod in situ, gaily ignoring all the cries of the stallholders) , and this (insert really bad word) kept bipping his horn and telling me that my car wasn't coming and that the driver had called to ask him to pick me up instead. This was a brazen lie, and when he started driving towards me (literally, ie to run me over), I let rip with my tirade.... and I stand by my decision. It was effective. It doesn't help that there is not one Egyptian woman in sight, anywhere!
And what's next? On Sunday, I feel the need to head directly to.... hmmmm...... Morocco. I feel like going to Morocco. Without delay. (Dad: If you see her, say Hello. She might be in Tangier.)
No comments:
Post a Comment