Hurghada - First Day Back

Hurghada - Goats Running Amok

For once, I slept pretty well on my sofa in the lounge with the air conditioning on. I guess I was tired after the travelling. However, I was shocked at how hot it was. I’m not sure if this was just a symptom of “first day back” or whether it really was particularly hot that day; subsequent days felt pleasanter.

I had a busy schedule for my first day as I needed to pick up documentation from my lawyer that confirmed my right to ownership of the flat and then I needed to do some food shopping. I’d made the lawyer’s appointment before I left, thinking it would be good to get everything done as soon as I got back, but in reality I wished for a day of peace before getting into anything too complicated. Live and learn

In addition, Esmat hadn’t picked me up from the airport because his brother-in-law had been in a car accident, so I felt a bit bad asking him to take me the following morning. Moreover, it wasn’t easy to contact him because I didn’t have a mobile phone (I can feel another mobile phone rant coming in a subsequent blog) and my internet connection to ask Esmat for the taxi via facebook was very slow. Again, I wasn’t sure if this slow connection was just for that particular day or whether it’s always that slow. At the moment I have a conspiracy theory in my head that they’ve slowed down the internet here to try to sell you the upgrade to the faster speed, which they seem to be plugging at the moment.

Anyway, I digress. As you can see, things aren’t always easy to do over here. Or maybe it’s just me. Another complication, which wasn’t really a complication, was that my lawyer wasn’t in town so I was going to see someone called “Sharon” instead. The English in the emails was perfect, so I assumed that he’d hired a British assistant. It wasn’t really a problem.

Esmat’s uncle, who’d picked me up from the airport, arrived on time. As we drove along, I recalled the first time I went to see my lawyer, expecting some kind of fancy financial district. This time, I knew the street it was in (or thought I did, but I was confusing Sheraton Street [sometimes called Road] with Sherry Street, I think; the directions were Sheraton Street and I was expecting Sherry Street but it turned out to be Sheraton Road. Am I the only person who finds this confusing?).

What I hadn’t realised was that the term “Wahib Building” wasn’t the name of the building but was a way of saying “the block of flats above the Wahib shop”. As I’ve said before, you don’t really have proper addresses in Egypt. There are two Wahib shops on Sheraton Road, which is a bit confusing, but fortunately only one had five floors above it, so we managed to fathom it out. Well, I say “we”, but I really mean Esmat’s uncle managed to fathom it out.

I felt quite brave going into the cranky lift on my own (last time the lawyer was with me) as the street outside was just sand and I wasn’t too sure how reliable the lift was. I was also unreasonably proud of myself for managing to find the correct flat once I arrived on the fifth floor. To my surprise, when I rang, an Egyptian guy opened the door to welcome me. I felt quite perplexed. In my head I was meeting a British woman called Sharon but maybe the “Sharon” was a surname, like Ariel Sharon?

An older European-looking guy was there as well, who was either a client or there as a male back-up to ensure nothing untoward went on between me and the other guy (Safi says that often you will have two men with a woman for that reason, to demonstrate that everything was above board) but it was definitely the right place and the Egyptian man handed me the contract, got me to sign confirmation that I’d received it, and checked my passport. He informed me that Sharon would be emailing me sometime soon about other matters, so I was back to hypothesising that Sharon was British and female.

I’d asked Esmat’s uncle to wait. He’d looked a bit sceptical (as was I, to be honest) when I said I would be only 10 minutes, but actually that’s all it took. He dropped me off at Senzo Mall. I popped in for a KFC, but they had a power cut just as I ordered. It seemed that I was being granted the full Egyptian experience on my return.

As so often happens, the conversation at KFC went: “Do you want spicy or normal chicken?”; me: “Normal”. They nod and say normal; I nod my head to confirm. They turn to get the chicken, turn round and say “You wanted spicy chicken?” “No,” I say, “normal”. I’m not quite sure what’s going on there as they don’t seem to be wanting to plug the spicy chicken particularly, which is the only reason I can think for this bizarre dialogue. The Egyptians usually have amazing memories. Maybe it’s a joke? In which case, I need to get more culturally aligned!

I’d lost my bearings a bit in Senzo Mall and it took me a few minutes before I could find my way to Spinneys. I was surprised to see that they had no cans of diet coke or diet pepsi; I’d forgotten that you can’t always get what you want on the day you want.

Esmat picked me up once I’d finished and we caught up on our news on the way back. His brother-in-law was OK, but there’d been another accident at the same spot that morning as well – it’s sand by the road that looks as if it’s OK, but actually slides right down a steep bank. I read that a bus overturned the other day too near Senzo mall – not sure if it’s the same spot again, but if so, they need to do something about it.

Anyway, that was my first day back. It was like having the whole Egyptian experience squashed into one day. No gentle homecoming for me!

Away - More Swiss Admin

Zurich, photo (c) Geraldine Thompson

My past came back to haunt me while I was away.

Just before I left, I was getting together all the cash and credit cards I would need when I realised that, although I had plenty of money in my Swiss bank account, I no longer had a Swiss cash card because it was stolen shortly before I left Switzerland (see blog from 28 September 2013 "And More!"). I didn’t replace the card, because I wouldn't need it in Egypt anyway. There didn’t seem to be much point. Until now, when I was visiting and needed to get cash out. I guess forward planning isn’t my strong point.

I took out some GBP from a UK cash machine in my stopover at Gatwick and changed it into CHF when I arrived at Zurich. For some completely inexplicable reason, I forgot I could use my UK cash card in Switzerland. I do wonder if my brain has deteriorated over the last 9 months. However, to my credit, I had planned the finances for my trip based on my Swiss bank account covering the Zurich part and my UK bank account covering the UK part, and I wasn’t too sure whether my UK finances could stomach the Swiss expenses as an addition. Consequently, I was nervous about using my UK bank account to finance my Swiss trip in case I ran out of money altogether. Switzerland isn’t exactly cheap.

It was frustrating knowing that I had money in the bank in Switzerland but wasn’t able to access it. I made it as far as the UBS in Zurich Bahnhofstrasse to ask if I could somehow get money out without a card, but I dreaded having to explain that I’d moved country, hadn’t replaced my cash card, hadn’t been paying the overseas fee for maintenance of bank account etc (see blog 17 July 2014, "Admin"). In the end I bottled out. I find that inaction often works surprisingly well.

I thought I could get by on my credit card, but I used it three times and got my PIN code wrong three times, so now that seems to be blocked. I then remembered that the replacement credit card (the original was stolen before I left Switzerland) had come with a new PIN that I’d forgotten I had.

Fortunately, Hye-Youn saved me by lending me some money. But this hassle just illustrates how one small act of theft can totally screw up your life for months. I had no cash card, I had no credit card, I was in fear of bank officials (OK, maybe that last one is partly my own fault).

Incidentally, I’m still waiting for my deposit back on my rental flat in Switzerland (see blog 17 July 2014, "Admin"). The rental agent’s office apparently had only one guy authorised to co-sign the form I'd sent that the bank needed in order to hand back my deposit and, yes, that's right, that guy’d just gone off on vacation for three weeks. So, I couldn't close my bank account when in Switzerland.

When I returned home, I then received an email from the rental agency informing me that the bank had subsequently refused the authorisation form because it was only a scanned copy; they needed my original signature before they would release the money. Who says that banks aren't regulated enough?

I am now faced with an unknown period of delay while I wait to see when or if the Egyptian post will finally deliver the form with my original signature to Switzerland. If only I could have known that while I was in Switzerland and done it there and then. But life was never intended to be easy.

Also, after having signed the documentation to confirm that the Swiss tax office had calculated everything correctly for my tax return (again, see "Admin" blog), I received another letter from them while in Switzerland informing me that actually they’d overcharged me by 1k CHF. Was this all some kind of test? Again, oh, the irony!

Anyway, I had a great time in Switzerland and will use this opportunity to apologise to all those there and nearby who I didn’t see – including the marketing folk at Novo Nordisk, Sheila, Holger, Emil, Idette... I will have to try to plan a more all-encompassing trip next time! But thanks to all those who I did see for making my trip so worthwhile.

Finally, I had to leave Switzerland to embark on the UK part of my trip. Even though I hate getting up early, I took the earlier rather than the later train to the airport. It turned out that this was a wise decision. I went to passport control, the guy studied my passport carefully and informed me that there was a note by my name and that I should wait to one side for the police to arrive. So that was me, a hunted criminal.

A policewoman came along and took me to a little room behind passport control. She handed me a letter explaining that I had to pay a fine and admin costs for dumping my electrical items in the recycling area (see blog  from 25 Sept 2013 "What Else?"). I had ten days to appeal and thirty days to pay; I was requested to sign the form that I had read and understood the conditions. Fortunately, I didn’t have to pay straight away as I didn’t have the money on me, but I still feel it is very unjust as I had been trying to do the right thing.

On my return to Egypt, I emailed them a complaint about the fine, but I’ve paid up rather than facing any further fines. Since any appeal had to be within 10 days and handwritten, I doubt my complaint will be worth anything, other than for venting my feeling of righteousness; nevertheless it was actually quite satisfying to write. Maybe Egypt, which would never be so organised nor so particular, is more my kind of place!

El Andalous - Away and Back

"Hey, dudes, it's time to put your sunglasses back on!"

Hello everyone, I’m back in El Andalous and I’m around half a stone heavier (c. 3kg) than when I left. I’m not worrying as this still puts me considerably lighter than when I first arrived over here and serves to confirm that I did indeed enjoy my time away and that I wasn’t losing weight previously due to a horrible wasting disease of some kind (I had wondered). So, all is good.

I had mixed feelings before going away. I’d got myself into a pleasant routine over here and was a bit reluctant to have it disrupted. Did I really want not to swim in the sea for 18 days? What was so appealing about grey skies and greater expense?

On the other hand, temperatures in Egypt were getting hotter and by the time I went to sleep each night, I started to look forward to a cooler climate where I wouldn’t wake up periodically due to the heat or having to move my sheets from my bedroom to the lounge in the middle of the night just to get some sleep (the air conditioning in my bedroom was broken).

Last time when I returned to Egypt after my UK visit, I’d felt deflated on arriving back, suffering from the impression that Egypt was a place where everything always went wrong; it was the land of constant difficulties.

I was determined that this time it would be very different. I arranged for my flat to be cleaned on the day of my return (it’s very dusty over here and after 18 days my balcony would be like a dusty street) and for various jobs to be done (repair air conditioning, fix drainage problem in bathroom, grout the balcony tiles where it’s come away). Hopefully, this would make me feel good when I got back; it also meant I wouldn’t be sitting around and agonising over whether to give a tip and, if so, how much. They would just give me a bill. A cunning plan, I thought.

Once in Hurghada airport, I felt I’d suddenly been transported back into the hustle and bustle of everyday life after living in a little dream world. The chatter of tourists filled the place, queues were formed everywhere, and I suddenly became aware that it was the holiday season, which had completely passed me by up until now.

Really, in Sahl Hasheesh, I live in a little bubble where time seems not to pass. I struggle to know if it’s winter or summer, a weekday or a weekend, which month it could possibly be. Every day is blue sky and sunshine and I now have my routine. For some this would be dull; for me, it’s how I imagine paradise. Arriving at the airport made me realise that I am still living in the real world and that, somehow, it was already August. How did that happen? I’d last gone to the UK in winter, so my brain was telling me it was probably November. Nothing really matched up.

For some reason, it was only on my return journey that the crowds of people brought home to me just how empty the airports had been when I first arrived in Egypt. I’m not sure I understood this at the time, because I would have thought it was normal, but with the hoards of tourists, I could now see that previously there had been but a trickle of people coming through the airport. In retrospect, it was very sad for Egypt back then with virtually no-one coming in on the planes. At that time, there had been no queues, workers were just hanging about. Now, I was assaulted by loads of tour operators, and this time it was easy to avoid them since there were plenty of tourists flocking in their direction anyway.

I didn’t have to get a visa, so I went straight to the queue for passport control. I always feel a little sceptical that my re-entry visa will work and worry that they will somehow tell me I got the wrong thing and have to pay some enormous fine. Maybe Switzerland gave me that fear.

The passport guy had gone into automatic mode and barely looked at the passports he was stamping, so I also worried that he wouldn’t even look at mine and accidentally stamp it where it shouldn’t be stamped. Obviously, I had nothing better to do while I waited in the queue than to find various things that I could worry about.

Fortunately, he did spot the difference and for a moment he was quite taken aback and started speaking. However, it wasn’t a problem, and it was sufficiently interesting for him to look up at me and see who I was.

Outside, as I searched for Esmat, I spotted a notice saying “Feyona El Andalous Esmat Limos” and from that I knew it was someone that Esmat had sent. I rather liked the Egyptian spelling of my name. I think it quite suits me.

I was welcomed by the security guards as I entered El Andalous and I was shocked to see how clean my flat was when I opened the door. For a moment, I wondered if they’d emptied it, but actually I had tidied a lot away before I left so that they could clean properly. I went into the bedroom, and my air conditioning had been fixed. They’d regrouted not only my balcony but also other places where the tiles were coming unfixed. The only thing not done was the bathroom basin that hadn’t been draining properly, but I decided that they may not have understood what I’d said.

However, this is still Egypt. By the time I wanted to go to bed, the air conditioning had broken again and I had to lug all my sheets back into the lounge (my bedroom was like a furnace). I then noticed that the problem with my wall (it looks like damp, but isn’t) had returned. And I put my washing in my washing machine the next morning and the washing machine broke, so I still have 18 days of clothes to wash. It felt a bit like returning to square one, but maybe I should just see it as Egypt’s way of welcoming me back.

Horsham to Hurghada

Horsham - photo by  Jimmy_ray on flicor.com

Alas, my trip will be over by now after a couple of days in Horsham and I should be on a plane flying back to Hurghada as you read this. I arrive back in the evening. There should be a proper blog on Thursday.

UK - Edinburgh

Gullane Beach in Winter (c) Peter Traynor

Today, I'm meeting up with some parapsychology folk for lunch and a beach walk at Gullane where Deborah has the most beautiful house by the sea.

In the evening, I hope to catch up with Rachel at "He had hairy hands". Don't ask. This play was her idea.

UK - Edinburgh

Edinburgh from Princes Street

I'm in Edinburgh with Geraldine. This will be our first day of five at the Edinburgh Festival. Today, we're seeing Oliver Twisted (theatre), St Mary’s Cathedral Choir, Alleycats (acapella) (all Edinburgh Fringe), and Inala (dance) (Main Festival). This is another "must do" in life!

UK - Bristol

Balloons over Clifton Suspension Bridge

I'm now visiting my friend Julie in Bristol. Today I have an appointment with a hairdresser. Hopefully, it will be a better experience than I had in Egypt. If I'm lucky, I should be able to catch the balloon festival....

Switzerland - Zurich

Zuerisee in the Summer

Today I should be out and about in Zurich and then off to the Orange Cinema in the evening. Everyone should go to the Orange Cinema by Lake Zurich once in their life!