Accommodations – Page 9

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

Welcome to Dahab Paradise Resort

March 21, 2018February 12, 2018 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: A SECOND LOOK AT DAHAB

Okay, this is where I confess that there is actually nothing wrong with the Dahab Paradise Resort. The real problem was my attitude. I still say we had no business heading off into a desert the US State Department warned us to avoid, but if we were going to be there anyway, this was a nice place to go.

The Bare Necessities

The Dahab Paradise is a lovely resort, but not in the traditional American five-star sense. You’re not going to find stationary in your desk drawer or a terry robe in the closet (what closet?). However, you will find very nice people in a very attractive facility. The open air lobby looks out on the gorgeous pool. Beyond the pool is the Red Sea. Your room will be clean. Our balcony was a small piece of heaven. The furnishings are very appropriate for a hotel in the Sinai Desert. They had a definite Bedouin charm. In other words, if you’re going to Dahab, stay here.

There’s a very nice open air restaurant not far from the pool. We had a fine dinner there and the breakfast was spectacular – especially if you are Egyptian or like Egyptian foods. Personally I love pita, feta and olives for breakfast. They will even fix up whatever eggs you want, but I’m not very eggy.

Now the bathroom facilities are minimal. Don’t drink the water and only one of you will be able to be in there at a time. I couldn’t face the shower and hubby wasn’t crazy about it, but it was functional.

Hanging by the Pool

The Dahab Paradise pool is out of this world. It looks beautiful and our family had a great time in it. There are plenty of chaise lounges and umbrellas for those of us who prefer to stay out of the water. It’s so gorgeous that it’s a little surreal to think, “Here I am in the Sinai Desert and right over there, about 30 miles away is Saudi Arabia.” The only real problem is the radical Islamist who cause so much trouble are probably even closer.

Once I was over my pout I was thrilled to discover my coloring cards and colored pencils had done their trick. My grandnephew climbed up into my lap after his dip in the pool and I thought my heart was going to burst. Even my grandniece, who is a little more stand-offish behaved as though I was on her team. Of course, we’d be heading back to Cairo the next day and then parting ways until our next chance to get together.

Drinks in the Conversation Pit

After everyone was out of the pool we went back to our rooms to get freshened up, but soon we were back outside for the sunset. The hotel has a great sunken conversation pit on the grounds with a wonderful firepit. My nephew Shady moved to the head of the class with a bottle of bourbon. All these guys are scotch drinkers and I’m not. So, time after time the rest of the crew would be sharing a nice buzz and I’d be sober as a judge. This time Shady showed up with a bottle of bourbon and gifted it to me. Thank you Shady!

Awhile later they let us know dinner was served and we enjoyed a delicious moonlit meal. That’s one of the picture postcards from the trip seared into my mind, but no one thought to take a picture. The time in the conversation pit and around the dinner table under the stars were moments words don’t do justice and even a thousand words would not have been able to aptly describe it.

Next up we’re headed back to Cairo after a quiet morning at Dahab Paradise. Come back next week to read about that.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, Road Trips, TRAVEL

My Ugly American Moment

March 14, 2018February 12, 2018 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: WHERE ARE MY RUBY SLIPPERS WHEN I NEED THEM?

So, I’m in Dahab and I’m not happy about it. I usually try to make the best of any situation, but for once, I just wasn’t. I was being an ugly American.

Welcome to Dahab Paradise

All the way from Sharm I had tried to convince myself that Dahab Paradise wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought and the initial impression made me feel a little better. Then we went to the room. It had a big balcony and a lot of charm, but it was tiny and didn’t exactly have the basic comforts of home. Let’s not talk about the bath. It was clean, but that’s all it had to recommend it. I was trying to decide which emotion was strongest – frustration, anger or fear.

In the few moments it took to make an inspection of the minuscule space, Bill fell on the bed and went to sleep. He claims he was merely exhausted, but I think his emotional radar warned him trouble was brewing. Interrupting one of his naps is a really bad choice, so I tried going to the balcony. Gale force winds drove me back inside.

There was no place to sit inside the room, except the bed and Bill was taking his half in the middle. I thought of going out, but I couldn’t decide what I would do. The wind made sitting by the pool a non-starter and there hadn’t been any sign of a bar in the small lobby. Besides, I had no idea where Bill had put the key. While I was quite angry with him, I didn’t want any of the Bedouins or radical Islamist the State Department had warned me about to come in and steal him away.

So, I sat on a small corner of the bed and tried to entertain myself. I caught up in my travel journal, read a book and worked some crossword puzzles. This was some kind of nap he was taking.

Part of my problem was that I was getting very hungry, but since I didn’t have my head screwed on right, I didn’t recognize it as a rapidly declining sugar level complicated by dehydration. I just sat there getting angrier and angrier. By the time Bill woke up I was in a full pout and he didn’t even do me the courtesy of acknowledging it.

Re-joining the Human Race

The wind had died down a little bit and a trip to the balcony revealed everyone was at the pool. I followed Bill down to join them and finally someone noticed I was pouting. I think it was the groom. After some gentle ribbing about my demeanor, I realized I needed to straighten up. I wasn’t happy to be there, but I’m not the kind who wants to ruin it for everyone else.

I also realized I was hungry, so Bill ordered some food. After a few bites, the world seemed to be a tiny bit better. Since I am writing this blog, it’s obvious that we were not attacked by Bedouins, radical Islamist or even your run of the mill thieves while we visited Dahab, but that was part of the problem.

Bill is the luckiest person alive. He lives on the edge of the envelope with aplomb. He’s never suffers any of the minor irritations in life that I do. I should just trust his luck and count it as my own, but that’s hard to do on a consistent basis.

I have no luck. You can be sure if there is any small print involved, it will bite me in the worst way. If there’s traffic, I’ll be late. I’m the one that loses my glasses, has wrecks and gets speeding tickets. I show up for things on the wrong day at the wrong time. I was sure if I headed off into the desert in spite of the State Departments warning I would become a casualty, but I forgot I was with Bill.

I’m thankful Bill’s luck protects me in all kinds of situations, but I have to admit I also resent it from time to time. On the trip to Dahab, I thought it would serve Bill right if we were held captive in the desert for ransom. Intellectually, I realized this would be a really bad thing, but I wasn’t doing reasonable very well that day. Thankfully I’m usually better at it. Come back next week when I’m over my pout and find out about the good things at Dahab Paradise.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, Road Trips, TRAVEL, Travel Planning

Off to Dahab

March 7, 2018February 12, 2018 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: A RELUCTANT TRAVELER

One day as we were planning the trip to Egypt, Bill tried to sell me on Dahab. There’s a certain tone Bill gets when he’s trying to convince me of something he knows I won’t like. That’s the tone he used when he showed me gorgeous pictures of a resort in the town of Dahab. I could tell right away that something was fishy.

A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing

Sometimes ignorance is bliss. There was a time when Dahab would have been a mystery. The proffered photo of an elegant resort would have been all I had to go on, but now we have the internet. I could find the same lovely picture of the Dahab Paradise Resort as Bill was showing me, but I could also find a map, which proved that Dahab was way out in the desert. The only thing Dahab was famous for was a Bedouin Festival that died after two years of trying. There was nothing else to recommend going there.

To make matters worse, the US State Department was aggressive in their insistence that Americans had no business whatsoever in Egypt, especially in a beach resort like Sharm el Sheihk and most especially anywhere in the desert beyond Sharm. Fly to and from Sharm and do not go into the desert, their website warned in several different ways. In other words, Dahab was not some place they would recommend for my touring pleasure.

From the get-go, I suggested that if everyone else wanted to go to Dahab, then they certainly should, but I could stay safely tucked away in the Sharm Marriott, with or without Bill. That just wasn’t going to fly. Even though I kept singing the same song up until the very moment we turned in the key to our room in Sharm, Bill wasn’t budging. By then, the awful Good Friday bombing had happened and the US State department was even more serious about their warnings, but my pleas were falling on deaf ears.

Climb Aboard & Leave the Driving to Us

Things didn’t get better. I was told to ride in the last few seats of the bus, just in case we were stopped. Not only was the US State Department worried about my well-being, so was Egypt. If Americans were headed into the desert, a police presence was required, but it had been decided, that since everyone else was an Egyptian, either past or present, (or in the case of my grand niece and nephew looked like they were Egyptian), we could get by without the escort. So I sat in the back of the bus and was told to keep my hat and my shades on. I complied, but I was furious with Bill.

The hour long trip into the desert was without incident, but as we pulled into town I felt like I was in a movie. You know the kind I mean. Someone has disappeared and some idiot goes to the last place they were seen, a godforsaken wide place in the road that you shouldn’t approach without a full squadron of Navy Seals. No one can be seen anywhere in the streets, but you know your hero or heroine is about three frames from a gun fight or a kidnapping. Yep, that’s Dahab.

Thankfully we rolled through the center of town without stopping, passed through a residential area and finally arrived at the resort. For the most part, the pictures on the website had been very accurate. It seemed like a really nice spot – it just wasn’t a spot I wanted to be anywhere near.

Things didn’t magically get better. For the next hour or so I was beyond miserable. I couldn’t even put a finger on all the reasons I was unhappy, but I was most definitely not thrilled to be there. Come back next week and I will make a full confession.

Accommodations, Architecture, ART, Decorative Arts, DESTINATIONS, Gardens, International, Road Trips, TRAVEL

I’ll Take a Pool With My Suite

January 24, 2018January 15, 2018 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: HONEYMOON LUXURY

Day Two in Sharm el Sheik was pool day, but we didn’t just wander out to the pool at the Marriott. It was a nice pool with a waterfall and a swim-up bar, but something even better was waiting for us. The honeymooners had invited us to their suite at The Baron Resort and it had its own pool. The suite, not the resort.

Meet in the Lobby

Eleven thirty was the call time for Day Two. I was up plenty early and hit the gym for an hour on their stationary bike. Bill joined me for the usual breakfast buffet, which took a little longer than I realized it would. For once I was not ready at the appointed time and Mr. Bill showed signs of anxiety. I sent him to the lobby and told him to make sure no one left without me. HA! I’ve been spending time around these guys for a long time. There was no way they were going to be ready to leave at the appointed time. I mean really! Did you read about the wedding reception? I was in the lobby within five minutes of Bill’s frustrated departure from our room – just in time for an hour of waiting for our transportation to show up. It was a good hour though. I inspected the boat someone bought for my tiny grand-nephew at the mall the evening before. I had some lovely time to visit with my older grand-nephews who caught me up with their high-school/college-focused lives. I also had a great conversation with my niece Maggie. So, I didn’t sweat the wait.

The Baron Hotel

When our vehicle arrived, we piled in and headed back in the direction of the airport. Taking a turn, we went down a long drive with desert on both sides and eventually entered an area under development. I say that loosely. It looked as if someone had started a luxury condo/townhouse complex at some point and then changed their mind. As we drove along seeing building after building after building of abandoned construction I thought of the abandoned corniche (boardwalk) and wished better for Egypt and Sharm el Sheik. We passed so many empty buildings in the almost derelict construction sites that I became concerned we weren’t headed in the right direction, but finally The Baron was in sight.

As soon as we drove up we knew it had been worth the drive. We followed our newlywed groom up the elevator and through the halls to what seemed like the back of beyond. He opened the double doors on an amazing suite and then stood back to get our reaction. There wasn’t one for awhile, because we were stunned! And so let the fun begin!

It was a marvelous day made a little extra special by the taste of luxury – but the day wasn’t over! Ayman had scheduled a Bedouin Dinner for our evening activity. Come back next week and we’ll head out into the desert.

Accommodations, Attractions, DESTINATIONS, International, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

Charming Sharm

January 10, 2018January 15, 2018 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: ADVENTURE PACKED DAYS

In Sharm el Sheik I took off my Museum Girl hat and embraced the Egyptian way to vacation. As far as I’ve been able to discern, there’s not a single museum in the area. It’s completely given over to entertainment venues and various sports rentals, from scuba gear to dune-buggies. I can’t give you any real travel hints, because my nephew Ayman planned and booked everything. I’d just show up in the lobby at whatever time I was told to be there and climb into whatever vehicle had been provided for our transportation.

A Tiny Drip of Disappointment

The moment I arrived in Sharm I was ready to hit the Boardwalk and Corniche. Some of my fondest memories of my previous visit were created there. Each night we’d stroll along a thriving beach scene. On one side was the beach and on the other was a line-up of amazing entertainment provided by various hotels. At one venue you’d see a magician, next would be a belly dancer, then a singer, then a cultural variety show, then a comedian, then haunting music by a band of natives, then – well you get the picture. And food – oh my goodness! Each restaurant was bustling and at each one the cuisine tasted better than the one before. I so wanted to re-live those nights of romance and excitement.

When we arrived at our hotel, the one we’d stayed at previously for old times sake, Bill was ready for a nap. I unpacked our bags and set up the room for our stay. Then I visited our balcony and enjoyed the view. We were right by the pool and beyond the pool was the Red Sea. Along with his nap, Bill was expecting a call from the family to give us the scoop on the evening’s entertainment.

Trying to make the best of a sad situation and really bad hair!

Finally, Bill woke up and initiated the call himself, because I was about to explode. We’d be joining the rest of the crowd a little later, but first we’d have dinner on the Boardwalk. The Arab Spring might have improved Egypt’s political situation, releasing them from the tyrannical Mubarek, but it also destroyed Sharm El Sheik. What had once been a thriving international hot spot was transformed into a ghost town of empty restaurants with an occasional entertainer playing to an empty room. It broke my heart. The lesser of the pathetic evils seemed to be an Italian joint, but it was bad service and bad food to go with my bad hair!

Let the Fun Begin

Heart-broken we returned to the hotel and went to the hotel portico at the assigned time. My niece Mirette and her husband Ayman appeared in two different cars and whisked us away to enjoy the night – ladies in one car, guys in another. Her intentions were good and she took us to a glamorous beach-side restaurant which proved there was some life in Sharm, even if the Corniche had died a brutal death. Unfortunately, the wait was hours long and there was really no place to wait, so we climbed back in to the car to execute Plan B.

I can’t go on without telling you one very funny thing. Public transportation and Uber are the way my grand-nephews negotiate the town of Sharm. When we arrived with Mirette, there were her sons waiting for us. When we moved on to Plan B, the boys wanted a lift. They’d gotten themselves to restaurant, but the nearest public transportation was several blocks away and they didn’t want to wait for Uber. So, since the car was full, Mirette opens up the trunk and they climbed in.

I had a moment of jealously for this simpler way of life. I used to live like that. Cramming a vanload of people into a car, riding in the back of a pick-up truck, sneaking people into the drive-in in the trunk. That was back in the days when you could legally drive with a cold one in your beverage holder. That evening we giggled all the way to the bus stop, enjoying the simple pleasure of riding along with passengers in the trunk. Nowadays, America is so safe and politically correct that a simple moment’s pleasure has to be weighed against jail time.

The night was far from over. Just about the time this Museum Girl is ready for bed, my nieces and nephews are just starting to enjoy the evening. So come back next week and see where we headed after this.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

Observed at the Breakfast Buffet

December 13, 2017December 3, 2017 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: MORNING AT THE MENA HOUSE

After the wedding, four of us went to the Mena House, while everyone else went to Sharm el Shiek, a beach town on the Red Sea. Our nephew and his friend had headed to Sharm as I repacked our luggage the night before and Izzat would be picking us up to take us to the airport. I regretted leaving the Mena House. There was so much more of it I wanted to enjoy. I wanted to laze around the gorgeous pool, enjoy my patio and continue to eat marvelous meals. We had one more meal to enjoy at their remarkable buffet.

Breakfast at the Mena House

I won’t bore you with the details of yet another breakfast buffet. I actually got tired of them while I was there. Morning after morning each hotel had a massive spread of food and I had to walk the not-so-fine line between satisfying my hunger and becoming a practicing gourmand. I will share an odd situation I observed, however. On our first morning at the Mena House, Bill remarked on a woman who had piled a plate high with carbs. He assumed she was gathering her own breakfast and in his opinion she needed to modify her diet. On the second morning, she was back and I watched her, because I doubted anyone could actually eat the mound of pastries she had gathered up.

Come to find out, she wasn’t serving herself at all. She gathered up several plates heaping with food on a table and had a bus boy deliver it to her room for her on a large tray. Of course, I’m wondering all kinds of things, like why doesn’t her family just come down and get their own food, but most of all I felt sorry for her. I even speculated that her husband was one of the towel wearing pilgrims I’d seen at the airport and wondered if his pilgrim status kept him from making the trip to the buffet. Whatever the reason, she didn’t have the demeanor of someone who was enjoying their role. She seemed huddled and secretive. Her posture suggested she expected to be berated for her performance. I realize I was imposing my own western ideas on her, but it was not the fact that she was performing this task for her family that bothered me, it was how burdensome the job seemed to be.

I’ve filled a tray at a breakfast buffet for Bill before and taken it back to the room. It wasn’t a mound of pastries, but I certainly didn’t mind doing it. I even enjoyed it, smiling as I thought of ways to make the meal more attractive. When we’re at a buffet together we take turns serving each other. Each of us will fill our own plate and then if we head back for beverage refills or to get a missed condiment, we always check to see if the other needs something. Sometimes when we go back for the refill we’ll spot an item that we think the other must have missed and carry it back for their enjoyment.

My silent observation at the Mena caused me to watch for similar situations in the other places we traveled. I did not see an exact replication of the circumstances with the huddled woman, but I did see echoes of it. In Sharm I would see tables full of men loudly enjoying their breakfasts. On the table were large stacks of pastries like the one prepared by the woman in Giza. Meanwhile the women scurried around preparing individual plates for the men and for the children. Over several mornings I watched one woman and I don’t think she ever got the chance to eat.

I’m all about different strokes for different folks, but one thing really bugged me and it was those huge mounds of pastries. Each plate seemed to have about 20 pastries carefully stacked on it and there were several plates scattered on the tables. When the families would leave the table it seemed as if all 20 pastries were still there. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to those mounds of pastries. American hygiene would demand they be thrown away, but I saw so much poverty and want through out the country that I couldn’t help but wish these gorgeous tidbits were in some way passed on to people who needed them. I couldn’t help but think that they might be taken to the kitchen for recycling on the buffet – so I pretty much stayed away from the pastries.

Farewell Mena House

From the buffet we made our way to the lobby and settled our bill. Our luggage was already waiting for us. Before long, Izzat pulled under the portico and our next adventure began – and once again it was at the airport! Come back next week and laugh with me about Egyptian security measures.

Accommodations, Architecture, ART, Attractions, Decorative Arts, DESTINATIONS, Gardens, International, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

The Marvelous Mena House

November 8, 2017October 5, 2017 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: AN AMAZING HOTEL

I was predisposed to love the Mena House. I’d been hearing about it for years and it sounded like my kind of place. It had historical significance and it was a luxury hotel Bill’s place of birth would make affordable. Let me tell you about it.

Arriving in Style

I will admit there is something posh about being delivered to your hotel by a private driver and car. We pulled up to the security gate to be sniffed by dogs, checked by metal detectors and generally gone over with a fine tooth comb, but our driver handled it all while Bill and I marveled at the Pyramids looming over us. I thought we’d have a view of them. I didn’t realize we’d be next door.

The lobby was opulent and we were treated like dignitaries. Being treated like dignitaries takes a little longer than just being tourists, but it was kind of fun. We were whisked to our room on a golf cart by a servile employee of the hotel and escorted around our new digs as if they rooms of the old palace, instead of the very comfortable modern room we’d reserved.

A Delicious Meal

Our next stop was lunch. We wandered across the grounds and found a nice patio restaurant which served food all day long. The prices were reasonable, the service was attentive and the food was amazing. The travel gods were shining on us.

A Free Historical Tour

As we lazed about enjoying the view our nephew Steven and his friend John arrived. They’d fallen for the 8:30 sight-seeing tour I’d rejected. While they regretted waking up early, they were very happy with their day. We decided to meet up again soon and see the free historical tour of the hotel I’d seen advertised in the lobby. The parade of celebrities who have stayed at the Mena House is pretty interesting, but not anything compared to the amount of history that has occurred since it was built in the 1800’s as a lodge for royalty.

The Rest of the Stay

The only problem we had with our stay at the Mena House is that it was too short. We loved hanging out in our room and enjoying the patio with the great view of the pyramids. We loved wandering around the hotel and grounds, photographing all the beauty both natural and man-planned. The service was amazing. The food was great – whether we were enjoying the free breakfast buffet, having lunch with a view or enjoying a Middle Eastern feast at the Khan il Khalili restaurant (named after the famous Cairo bazaar).

I have a fantasy of returning to Giza some day to see the wonderful museum being built to replace the Cairo Museum and the Mena House would be the perfect place to stay – but I doubt I could ever get Mr. Bill back to Egypt. The place he has fond memories of growing up in doesn’t exist anymore.

If you’re still hungry for more about the Mena House, watch this video. If you want to know about visiting the Pyramids, then come back next week.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, Road Trips, TRAVEL

A Change of Gears

November 1, 2017October 3, 2017 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: GOOD-BYE FAIRMONT, HELLO MENA HOUSE

We visited Egypt to attend a wedding and what a wedding it was. Next we were headed to Giza for some Pyramid sight-seeing, but first we had to check out of the Fairmont and into the Mena House, after catching a few zzzz’s.

A Late Night Delivery

I stayed up very far past my bedtime celebrating the newlyweds, something that happened frequently on this vacation. When we finally got back to the room, we put away our wedding finery and gratefully fell into bed. An hour or two later, there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t sure what to expect, because of the urgency of the banging. Had a hotel guest confused our room for someone else’s? Was a wife fleeing an abusive husband? Had the newlyweds argued and needed a referee? Or was the party still going on and they’d decided to bring it to us?

Bill got up, went to the door and discovered members of the hotel staff with a cart full of food. My sister-in-law mentioned sending us some left-overs, but I’d assured her we didn’t need them. There was no microwave and while we did have a frig, it was full of refreshments the hotel wanted us to buy. We were also scheduled to be out of the hotel by noon. No time for a feast. Still, we’d ended up on the list of rooms to visit and they were going to deliver! Bill kept saying no thank you and the anonymous visitors kept bringing in trays of food.

Good Morning?

I’m persnickety about keeping a hotel room neat, but after our late night delivery I woke up at around 8:30 to what looked like a catering disaster. There were appetizers, main dishes and desserts all over the place. I wouldn’t have been too happy about that under any circumstances, but in this case, I had to pack before the car came.

I got myself ready and shuffled the food into a corner, but Mr. Bill didn’t budge until 10:30, which at least gave me an opportunity to catch up in my travel journal. As we’d planned the trip he’d tried to convince me this would be a good day for sight-seeing. His nephew Ayman, our travel agent, kept giving us itineraries with an 8 AM pick-up time and I kept sending them back. As I sat watching him sleep off his partying I felt pretty smug.

When he did get up, we found a snack among the desserts, but the rest of the un-refrigerated food seemed like food poisoning looking for a place to happen. The packing ritual didn’t take very long and by 11:30 we were in the lobby waiting for our car.

The Luxury of Having a Driver

While I love luxury, our travel budget rarely affords us much of it. We take nice vacations, but we always have the most economical transportation available. Thankfully, the groom insisted Bill hire a driver to transport us around when we were on our own and Ayman did us the favor of scheduling one guy to be our driver the whole time – even when we traveled to Alexandria.

Izzat was a treasure. He was very proper in a sort of Egyptian way. If you’ve been there you know what I mean and if you haven’t, I can’t explain it to you. He spoke impeccable English. The car was a Hyundai, so nothing extravagant, but very clean. So off we went.

Early in the trip Izzat was a little difficult to engage in conversation, but by the time we left Egypt he had warmed up to these two crazy Americans. He never wanted to be in a picture, however, and some of that might be because of his faith. Being Christian in Egypt is not illegal, but it’s also something of a disadvantage.

On our trip to the Mena House, Izzat was polite but distant. We observed the sites on the way out to Giza. Come back next week and I’ll tell you about our new favorite hotel.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, TRAVEL

Pre-Wedding at the Fairmont

September 20, 2017September 20, 2017 Jane Sadek

Travel There: Photos, Metal Detectors and Machine Guns

So it was here, the reason we had come to Egypt. My nephew Bassem is very dear to both of us and his wedding is just about the only thing that could have convinced Bill to go Egypt. On the afternoon of the wedding, we left our room at the appointed hour and headed to the lobby for pictures.

Pictures at Four

Family members were told to be in the lobby at four for pictures, but it quickly became obvious that was 4 PM Egyptian time. The American contingency was dutifully in the lobby by 4:15, but it was a very lonely lobby. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the time I spent visiting with the guys, Bill, Steven and John, but in spite of myself, I was wishing I’d had a little more time to solve the electrical emergency. I had really wanted those tendrils.

About 4:45 the Egyptian contingency wandered into the lobby and we were a good-looking bunch. When everyone was assembled we were marched out onto the lawn to be photographed. There was a certain amount of frisson, but I blamed it on wedding jitters and a ticking clock. What I didn’t know was that the bus to take us to the wedding hadn’t arrived yet and there were serious negotiations going on with the hotel about how many guards with machine guns would escort us to the wedding.

Yes, I Said Machine Guns

There was a certain amount of friction throughout the trip about the status of the people in our party. We were visiting just days after the Palm Sunday bombings, so security was high. Most of the members of the family were Egyptian, in origin if not in passport, but they considered themselves Egyptian. Some of the exceptions were pint-sized kids born in the US to Egyptian parents, but they looked just like any kid born to an Egyptian – olive skin, dark curly hair and big brown eyes. The other exceptions were Steven, John and myself. We looked like tourists, plain and simple, and American tourists at that.

Even though most of the people in our party considered themselves Egyptian, that’s not how the other Egyptians saw us at all. To them we were a bunch of foreigners. The idea of 20 or 30 of theses foreigners traveling by bus from the Fairmont to a Coptic Church created fear and trembling to the hotel’s staff. They intended to keep their name off the evening news by providing us with protection, and that protection was two guys with machine guns.

To my Egyptians, the armed guards seemed like a red neon arrow pointing to us saying, “Blow this bus up!” While the photographer tried to get pictures of the whole crew smiling at once, some very tense conversations were going on behind the scenes. The bus arrived and a compromise was reached. We’d have one armed guard and his machine gun would stay out of sight unless needed.

The machine gun guy did pretty good. He looked just like most of the rest of the guys on the bus – dressed in a suit, headed to a wedding. As we approached the church, he unbuttoned his coat and wrapped his fingers around the gun. I can assure you that did not make me feel more secure.

Entering the church was just like entering a hotel, museum or other area. You either put your purse on the table or cleaned out your pockets. Then you entered the metal detector. On the other side, someone would rifle through your belongings to be sure that tiny beaded bag didn’t have a weapon in it. Perhaps they would frisk you for whatever reason they picked out, be it concern or just a random practice. We stood around on the steps of the church for awhile and then it was showtime.

Come back next week and hear all about it.

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, TRAVEL

My Ahhhhhh Day

September 6, 2017September 6, 2017 Jane Sadek

TRAVEL THERE: TAKING IT EASY

After seeing off the guys, my first stop was the laundry. I was wondering if they’d be able to press my dress and Bill’s suit for the wedding. Nope, they were closed for the holiday. That determined a lot of what I’d be doing for the day.

An Hour at the Spa

The spa was on the other side of the pool. As soon as I exited the building, a nice lady wanted to help me out with my pool arrangements, but I didn’t want a towel, a chair or a cabana. I was just passing through.

If you’re interested, the spa was quite nice. I spent my hour on the treadmill, I actually prefer a recumbent bike to a treadmill, but I wasn’t at home. There was a nice variety of workout machines and stations, but no bikes, so I made do. The gym area was neat, attractive and clean, not the cluttered mess of some hotel’s workout rooms and all the equipment worked! They had bottled water, towels, magazines and other amenities to enjoy. More than once an attendant checked on me to see I had everything I needed. High points for the spa.

Those Semi-Wrinkled Clothes

In spite of folding tissue paper in with our wedding clothes, as my mother had taught me to do, when I pulled them out of the suitcase in the wee hours of Saturday night, they looked like a wadded mess. Late Monday morning all Bill’s suit needed was a little touching up, but my dress was still pretty pathetic looking. The bodice with all the beads were fine, but that full skirt looked pretty bad and the sheer lace over-blouse was still a mess. Since attacking it with an iron almost ensured I’d melt some of the sheer chiffon in the skirt, I tried the old traveler’s trick – a steamy bathroom.

I hung the dress and blouse up over the toilet, glad for the commode’s lid, and took a very long hot shower with the shower door open and the bathroom door closed. By the end of the shower I had a lake on the floor and the room was pretty steamy, but the gown needed more.

I toweled down and put on the fluffy terry robe provided by the hotel. I made the water from the shower even hotter than I could tolerate on my skin, opened up the hot water tap on the sink all the way and escaped from the bathroom, trying to leave as much steam as I could behind. I gave it about 15 minutes and then checked on the progress. The room was all steam, but the dress was still a little wrinkly. I turned off the water, gave my outfit a good shaking out and then left everything in the steamy bathroom.

As the wrinkles melted, I caught up with my travel journal, spent some time on social media, read a little, did some crossword puzzles and entertained myself with various distractions. I’d opened the window to the perfect weather outside and was glad the hotel actually had operable windows. I enjoyed hearing cocks crow throughout the nearby neighborhood and I’m pretty sure I heard a peacock. Some kind of black birds cackles dominated the sound track for a while, but they moved on. I’m sure there were traffic noises, but thankfully, faint enough to ignore. From time to time I’d hear the crash of a metal tray or the sound of something heavy being dropped. It was pleasant.

A return to the bathroom revealed the steam had all dissipated. The dress was fine. The over-blouse still needed some help. The room had a very nice full-sized ironing board with a heavily padded cover which I wished I had at home. The full-sized iron had markings in both English and Arabic. I was in business.

The blouse took no time at all, but the suit actually ended up giving me some challenges. I wished I had put it in the steamy bathroom after all, but now it was too late to start all over. Just about the time I got it and Bill’s white shirt professional laundry perfect, in walked the man himself. He was earlier than I anticipated. Khan-il-Kalilli had been a big disappointment, a dearth of dealers because of the holiday and far too dirty to be enchanting. They’d found a cafe and enjoyed some down time, too.

Now Bill was ready for a nap and it was time to start on my hair and makeup. Comeback next week and see what happened next.

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