A Revolutionary Anniversary in Tahrir Square, Cairo

Advertisements

Dahab Harmony

“Have you ever heard of a singing vacation?” one of the women at the Christina hotel asked me. I admitted that I had not. But about a dozen women had come from the Netherlands to this hippie-esque resort village on the Sinai peninsula to do just that: sing. For a week, they’ll be led by a Dutch singer named Ellie who will turn them into a choir, harmonizing on songs by Abba, Sade, Whitney Houston and others.

As I sat on the patio reading a Norwegian murder mystery novel, I’d hear them rehearsing. Though I would miss their final performance, I did get invited to join them for an evening of karaoke. A 70-ish woman sang Bohemian Rhapsody with gusto. Another couple (including the only other male – the husband of one of the participants) sang Meat Loaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights.” I took on another Queen song – “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” and did a duet with Ellie, being Elton John to her Kiki Dee on “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart.” Couldn’t hit the high notes like Elton (of course, neither can he these days).

Not what I was expecting for my few chill days in Dahab. But, then again, serendipity is my best pal and the very reason why I travel.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Dahab Chill

In Dahab this week, there are about 1/20th the usual number of tourists, it’s half the temperature it was last time I was here, and there are at least twice as many cats.

It’s cold in Dahab. Colder than average this time of year. Too chilly to scuba dive (at least for me). So I’ve been chillaxing.

I read a Norwegian mystery novel about a serial killer (The Leopard by Jo Nesbø), using the Anderson Cooper book mark I got at the airport book store.

Continue reading “Dahab Chill”

The Dazzling Uncertainty of Egypt

It’s funny what you remember instantly when all your senses are engaged.

The central statue in Cairo's Talaat Harb square

Four and a half years after leaving Cairo (where I spent a year as Knight Fellow and first began this blog) so much had faded from memory. But it all comes back as I see and smell and taste and feel this wonderful mess of a city again.

Minding my step on the sidewalks—which can drop off suddenly or catch you in one of the ankle-wrenching holes—the motion memory kicks in. You recall the rhythm of crossing the ridiculously trafficked streets. The smell of the shisha from cafes and the desert dust in the nostrils sparks thoughts of evenings out. The taste of the Nile in the air near the corniche, and the foul medames (fava beans) and tameya (falafel) and hibiscus tea at breakfast, all trigger their own images.

Even the Arabic words (kalimat) come back when you hear the music of the oud or the play-by-play of the Zamalek or Ahly football games on the scratchy AM radio in a taxi.

These are clichés, I know. But all that surface stuff can lead you to deeper places. Continue reading “The Dazzling Uncertainty of Egypt”