Journal 03.01.2026.
Sawa Camp, Nuweibaa, Sinai Peninsula,
Egypt.
That was a hectic time. It was, was it
just only, like… so long ago when after missing my connection flight from
Istanbul, I was moved to a hotel at 1.30am on New Year’s day to be presented
with a room that had not been cleaned, sleeping in used sheets but unable to
and then dragged back to the airport and the whole malarky of security and the
worst thing of all?
My feet were killing me. How stupid can I be?
All very nice dressed up in desert khaki and matching shoes which I have never
worn them before. Besides the fact they are at least 4 years old. Agony. But it
gets worse. A lot worse.
It was about 30 mins before landing. I had
been given a flight leaving at 11.00am. I leaned over to catch a glimpse of the
incredible landscape feeling well knackered. I just hoped that my suitcase
would be there and I finally had enough and stood up as best as I could, and
leaning over the back of the seat in front of me, I addressed its occupant…
‘Do that again you dirty, stinking old
cow, I will vomit onto your fucking head!’
She must have eaten a dozen dead rats or
something worse. Rotten guts.
At the airport the case arrived and after
a scan, again, me and my contraband were greeted by an old man holding up a bit
of paper with my name on it. My driver. The poor old sod had been there since
1.00am, now it was approaching 3.00pm. I get a large bottle of coke and a meal
for the driver and scramble aboard a mini bus as decrepit as the driver. Paradise.
I am the only one, and was happily rolling and spliffing the whole 1.5hrs
drive. Most of it on a well-built road between two mountain ranges. There were
several checkpoints full of bored police that the driver knew so well and he
even overtook about 6 patrol cars on a solid white line, waving at the
occupants.
All very exciting and wonderful. Then you
sort of come over a rising and there is the sea. Reminded me of that moment
when you drive down to Kariba and take a bend and there is that shining blue
water…
Meet, greet the owner and it is getting
dark. I order some grubs. Roast mopani worms and go to my new home. I don’t
like it. It was far too good. Own bathroom, brick roof, mossy netting on the
windows, large raised double bed, and generally NOT what I had ordered and the
view was of the restaurant.
Exhausted I went to bed and decided I was
going to move the next day, which was…yesterday, the 2nd of Jan. It
turns out breakfast is included and after some scrambled eggs and falafel bread
I checked out the new accommodation I was offered. I liked it and felt home at
last. It needed some sorting out but I went to it as Rhodesians always do and with my trusty
Swiss army knife soon had it almost up to scratch by the time the sun started
to set.
I was even given the free use of a bicycle which I thought was very kind of the owner. But trouble was brewing. I had a neighbour and she started to cause me hassle…
There were four other guests when I
arrived. Three Egyptian, now gone, and one German. Her name is Angie. I
shortened it from whatever it was. In the very short time we exchanged words
and watching her, I rapidly came to the conclusion that I was dealing with a
classic Geshupsta.
The very kind of person that I despise so
much. These versions are female, Bavarian barbarians whose ancestry and their
present intelligence has stayed stable at 70% IQ from lack of iodine. They talk
shite and a general pain in the arse. Sadly, I have one living on the ground
floor back at ‘home’in Töging, and was so relieved to believe that I would not suffer
the fat, ugly, lazy, messy cow for almost a month – but it is not to be for I
have committed many sins in my life and fuck me up the arse with a frozen stave
– you will not believe this…
‘Hallo, so you the German they have been
waiting for?’
Blah blah blah…(All in German.)
‘But you are not German? Where are you
from?’
‘Zimbabwe, but I live in Germany. And
yourself?’
‘Well, I live here at the moment but well,
as a registered address with a friend, and a sort of HQ, it is a small place
called… Mühldorf am Inn. I doubt you would know it. And where in Germany is
your home?’
Aah, this can’t be happening. What are the
odds. I fly thousands of kilometres andI reply very sarcastically –
‘Just around the corner from Mühldorf am
Inn.’
Maybe 5foot 6. Grey, short curly hair,
weathered round face, no fat on her and wearing also hippie pants and left
overs from charity shops.
Next day, yesterday, when I moved I had
mini stereo on. She is two huts down. She comes over.
`Do you have music on all the time.’
‘Yes.’
‘I am not a music person. Do you have
earphones. I have a pair I can give you to keep.’
‘Thank you. I have a pair.’
Mad thing. She is staying for two months
and arrived the day before myself and had also aggro with her flights. Moan,
moan, typical Geshupsta. Spotted her cross legged on her veranda with prayer
hands and other weird Yoga Cosmic Kung Fu exercises for the blank mind.
This morning she was gathering up a bit of
plastic on the beach. It had been raked clean earlier. Not a peep as greeted me
whilst the music played on…hah hah. Yeah, yeah, I am gonna walk around with
earphones on for the next 24 days.
The coffee. I have to have my coffee.
Luckily, when I was still in dwaal in the other pad, the fancy one, I wanted to
make a cuppa at 5.15am. I had no cup, so went back to bed. Today, this morning
I made some using a glass. No cups here. AND, I had in the nick of time
remembered before I switched it on - that I had secreted a long sausage shaped
and sized bag of special herbs. That was close. The fucking lot would have
caught fire!!!
I now have to try and rig up a wind screen. It gets a tad blowy from the north side. I love it here.
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