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| Sahl Hasheesh - Horse Jumping Competition |
The first day after I arrived, the beach was empty at El Andalous and, as I walked up to the Piazza (it’s so beautiful!), the beaches of the Premier Romance, Le Clessidre, and Il Gusto were also all only sparsely populated after the recent alleged bombing of the plane from Sharm El Sheikh. The weather was perfect, as it always is – blue skies, sunshine - and the mountains on that day were sharply defined.
I was headed towards the horse jumping competition just behind the Premier Romance hotel, near the Piazza. Horse riding competitions aren’t something I’d normally associate with Egypt, and Egyptians who do horse riding must be very much the wealthier elite.
There seemed to be three paddocks – one for waiting, one for practicing, and then one for the competition. The horses were beautiful and the riders were dressed in full riding attire even in the sun. A few competitors wore what looked like captain’s or military suits adorned with golden epaulettes and shiny buttons. To my surprise, young children appeared to be competing alongside the adults, also all in the proper clothing.
Large white bean bags were dotted along the fences for people to sit on and there was one section with white folding seats. Trainers would yell at the riders (I got to learn how to say “hold her back!” in Arabic, but I’m not sure it’s going to help me very much) from the sidelines. The atmosphere was relaxed and convivial; there were quite a lot of Egyptians, cheering on their competing relatives, no doubt, and some tourists also watching on.
I’ve only ever seen these competitions on television before, so I was surprised at how small the course looked (it looks larger on TV). The first two riders I watched jumped clear rounds, so I initially thought that it was an easy course. I had to rethink that when each subsequent competitor gained faults.
The event was well organized. The next horse would enter the ring before the previous horse had finished, so no time was lost. I practiced my understanding of Arabic as I listened to the achieved times being announced over the loud speakers. Il Gusto had set up a satellite café/restaurant so that people could have a snack without having to walk down to the sea front. It’s not often that you see things so well planned in the Red Sea area.
Large white bean bags were dotted along the fences for people to sit on and there was one section with white folding seats. Trainers would yell at the riders (I got to learn how to say “hold her back!” in Arabic, but I’m not sure it’s going to help me very much) from the sidelines. The atmosphere was relaxed and convivial; there were quite a lot of Egyptians, cheering on their competing relatives, no doubt, and some tourists also watching on.
I’ve only ever seen these competitions on television before, so I was surprised at how small the course looked (it looks larger on TV). The first two riders I watched jumped clear rounds, so I initially thought that it was an easy course. I had to rethink that when each subsequent competitor gained faults.
The event was well organized. The next horse would enter the ring before the previous horse had finished, so no time was lost. I practiced my understanding of Arabic as I listened to the achieved times being announced over the loud speakers. Il Gusto had set up a satellite café/restaurant so that people could have a snack without having to walk down to the sea front. It’s not often that you see things so well planned in the Red Sea area.
I was gratified to see commercial use being made of the otherwise empty land and rumour has it that international competitions will be held here in the future. It was fun to watch and all very casual.
But, predictably, swimming was my major anticipated highlight on returning to El Andalous. The water was colder than in Zurich or Turkey previously and on my first few days on the beach I’d even wonder for a moment if I really wanted to go in (but, of course, I did). However, once I got going, the sea was really quite warm (around 22 degrees?). I didn’t even feel cold on coming out of the water, so once I’d plucked up the courage to get in, I was fine.
I’d recently bought myself a Suunto Ambit3 Sport watch (inspired by someone from my swimming holiday). It has GPS and can map out where you’ve swum, how far, with which stroke, how fast you swam, how many strokes you use per metre, etc. I’m learning the crawl, so I wanted it to inspire me to achieve longer and longer distances.
However, although they advertised the product as waterproof to a certain depth, their adverts failed to explain that the GPS wouldn’t work under water and therefore would not be able to record breast stroke. These sporty types always assume that front crawl is the only stroke available! So, I spent a lot of my holiday playing around with getting the watch to function properly for alternating breast stroke and crawl.
After trying multiple ways of wearing the watch, I ended up attaching it to the back of my goggles. The distances seemed to be more realistic than when I wore it on my wrist or on the shoulder strap of my costume (the watch would slip down), but it can’t detect my stroke (yet). Getting the watch to work to my satisfaction is still a work in progress.
However, swimming every day brought home to me how healthy a lifestyle I lead in Egypt. I feel invigorated and brimming with health after my swim; it’s always that point of the day where I think that this is all I want to do in life. I’d go back to my flat in the evening and eagerly await to see which data my watch gave me for that day’s swim. It was frustrating not being able to stop and say hello to the fish (for fear of further disturbing the GPS reading), but hopefully I have more of my life left to do that again at a later stage. I hope the fish will forgive me.
But, predictably, swimming was my major anticipated highlight on returning to El Andalous. The water was colder than in Zurich or Turkey previously and on my first few days on the beach I’d even wonder for a moment if I really wanted to go in (but, of course, I did). However, once I got going, the sea was really quite warm (around 22 degrees?). I didn’t even feel cold on coming out of the water, so once I’d plucked up the courage to get in, I was fine.
I’d recently bought myself a Suunto Ambit3 Sport watch (inspired by someone from my swimming holiday). It has GPS and can map out where you’ve swum, how far, with which stroke, how fast you swam, how many strokes you use per metre, etc. I’m learning the crawl, so I wanted it to inspire me to achieve longer and longer distances.
However, although they advertised the product as waterproof to a certain depth, their adverts failed to explain that the GPS wouldn’t work under water and therefore would not be able to record breast stroke. These sporty types always assume that front crawl is the only stroke available! So, I spent a lot of my holiday playing around with getting the watch to function properly for alternating breast stroke and crawl.
After trying multiple ways of wearing the watch, I ended up attaching it to the back of my goggles. The distances seemed to be more realistic than when I wore it on my wrist or on the shoulder strap of my costume (the watch would slip down), but it can’t detect my stroke (yet). Getting the watch to work to my satisfaction is still a work in progress.
However, swimming every day brought home to me how healthy a lifestyle I lead in Egypt. I feel invigorated and brimming with health after my swim; it’s always that point of the day where I think that this is all I want to do in life. I’d go back to my flat in the evening and eagerly await to see which data my watch gave me for that day’s swim. It was frustrating not being able to stop and say hello to the fish (for fear of further disturbing the GPS reading), but hopefully I have more of my life left to do that again at a later stage. I hope the fish will forgive me.
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