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El Andalous - A Stressful Day

 

Troubled Waters in Paradise

Sorry about no blog last week. I seem to be getting more and more lethargic. It’s possibly in part due to my horror at the demise of ethics in today’s society as the Geneva Convention, the Nuremberg Code, and Medical Ethics are all completely overturned by world governments and many people aren’t so much as batting an eyelid. But this entry isn’t a blog for all that.

The truth is I lost track of the days and then Monday was incredibly stressful and then I needed a rest and then the week was almost gone. So, I hear you ask, what was so stressful about Monday?

Well, to start with, I was going to the visa office to apply for my next year’s visa. That’s always stressful (and, to be fair, it’s usually stressful whatever country you’re in as an expat). My printer was running out of ink (more stress), but I managed to copy all the documents. Several people said I could use my Sahl Hasheesh annual residence card as proof of residence instead of my 32-page purchase contract, so I took a copy of that as well. I thought I was well prepared.

I got up early in the morning, but got distracted by the fact that Cleo had been sick four times in the night. Two of the patches looked as if she’d just had the food in her mouth and then spat it out (no evidence of chewing, just a wet mess of intact food), so I wasn’t really sure what had happened. But it was clear she hadn’t digested much. I hurriedly scrubbed at the floor. The receptionist rang at my doorbell to say that Tina was waiting for me in the car. I panicked, grabbed my stuff, and dashed for the car.

However, when we arrived at the visa office, I realized I’d left my mask at home. I’d had it ready, but hadn’t brought it with me. Fortunately, they had them for sale. Then, I realized I’d forgotten to bring a pen. What’s happened to me? Last time I was all prepared, but this time I’d made a total hash of it. Tina went off to check with General Islam that our residence cards would be fine; I quickly “stole” her pen and filled out my form and hoped she wouldn’t notice how badly equipped I’d been.

As it turned out, we were in and out within an hour, which is pretty good. We arrived back, I went inside my flat and Cleo didn’t welcome me. Where was she? I hunted about, but couldn’t see her anywhere. I decided she must have slipped out when I was in a rush to get to the car that morning. Never mind, she’d be back for her dinner at 4pm.

I went for a swim, came back. Again, no Cleo. I opened my balcony door and called her. Last time she got lost, she was hiding on my balcony, just waiting for me to be back. No Cleo. Now I got worried. I searched outside. No Cleo.

I heard a meow. I’m sure at one point it was behind my washing machine (which is in my kitchen). But two or three times later, I heard it from behind my shower. Annoyingly, she’d only meow once in a blue moon. Was this because she was weak from hunger/thirst? I looked behind the shower, where she often hides, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t inside the shower. But her meow was quite clear. I decided she must be in the shaft in the Engineering Office which runs behind the shower.

It’s a huge shaft. I wanted to look over the wall to see if she’d somehow fallen. But try as I might, I couldn’t persuade reception to fetch a big ladder for me. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to climb the ladder in the small space. No ladder, no chance of rescue.

Defeated, I went back into my flat. Four hours had passed since I’d come back from my swim. I turned on the TV to distract myself. Then out Cleo came from the bathroom, all casual, as if nothing had happened. She didn’t even meow for food. Well, not immediately. I looked in the bathroom again, but I still have no idea where she could have been. There’s a bit where all the wires are and I think that’s maybe in between the walls of the shower. I can’t see a way in, but that’s the only place I can imagine she could be. It’s a bit worrying (but the shower did work the following day).

I fed Cleo, and she ate about 50% more than she usually eats. Time to relax. Then I heard a strange noise. I looked over at my kitchen and water was gushing out of one of my cupboards! I squealed and ran to reception, arms flapping, shouting “water, water” and then ran back to my flat. Sometimes being a pathetic female is the best plan of action.

The receptionist gawked, but he was brilliant. He turned off the water and replaced the broken pipe immediately. I’ve never been so relieved. Well, apart from when Cleo reappeared earlier that evening. I gave him a good tip (I hope). So, the rest of the evening was spent mopping up all the water. I left putting all the items back in the cupboard to the next day once I realized there were things in there like lentils from 2015 and flour from 2019. My brain wasn’t up to all that. But I survived.

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This is the last blog from this site. I've moved to WordPress. Here's the link and the link in full:

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El Andalous - Another Blog Holiday

 

Cleo May be Relaxed But I'm Not!

 

 Aaargh. It's already Wednesday, so I've given up hope of posting a blog this week.

All is well. Just been busy with getting my visa, finding a lost cat, and getting a burst water pipe sorted...

(not quite the dream I imagined!)

El Andalous - Cleo or...

 

Cleo on the Watch

Okay, I said this wouldn’t turn into a cat blog, but this is a story that has to be told…

Cleo started to make a big fuss about wanting to go outside. She’s supposed to be an indoor cat, but I felt sympathy for her as she’d stare at me while I sat outside on my balcony. It didn’t seem fair. I let her out. Ironically, the first time I opened the door, she just remained sitting inside, like she was making a fuss just for the sake of it.

Then she wanted to go out in the evening. After she yowled at the balcony door for a long time (I would be rubbish at bringing up children as I’m way too soft), I gave in. Off Cleo went, crouched under the bush opposite and started yowling. Another cat, somewhere up on the roof, yowled back. Oops. The neighbours will hate me. It sounded like mating calls, but I assumed she’d been spayed. Out I rushed and Cleo dashed back indoors. Phew.

The next day, she was desperate to get out again. Again I gave in. Only this time, after five minutes, she disappeared. I searched the gardens and in the storage room beside my flat, but I couldn’t find her. I had to give up. She’d be back in time for dinner.

Sure enough, I came back from my swim, opened my balcony door and called Cleo. She dashed out, looking rather dirty, from under my balcony sofa and zoomed straight inside.

For some reason, I related this to a friend online and she mentioned that Cleo wasn’t spayed. What! Nobody told me that.

I felt Cleo’s behaviour changed after having escaped that one day. She was more antsy and wouldn’t stay still. I looked up how to tell if a cat is pregnant – apparently it can be difficult to tell but by week two or three, their nipples show more. And cats remain fertile all their lives. Each day, I’d stare at Cleo’s belly and as the weeks went past, I became convinced her nipples were becoming more prominent. Apparently, it’s dangerous for old cats to be pregnant as they often don’t survive the birthing.

I had to get her to the vet. To cut a long story short, after five cancellations for a home visit (I couldn’t catch Cleo to get her in the pet carrier), the vet came. I’d never seen Cleo run so fast. She leapt up behind my kitchen taps, she ran up my curtains, she howled. He eventually caught her (after Cleo had broken a few glasses) and then noticed her clipped ear. This meant that she was already spayed apparently. And, therefore, not pregnant. I asked if he could cut her nails, but he refused. He remarked that there was no way that Cleo was twelve years old, and she was extremely healthy, although he didn’t hazard a guess at her age.

This left me with a problem. Maria (RIP) had told me that Cleo was sixteen years old; Cleo was advertised for adoption as being twelve years old. Another friend of Maria’s said that Maria had the cat for twelve years. But if my cat is actually only, say, eight years old, then whose cat do I have?

I recalled seeing the photo of Cleo when they were advertising her for adoption and my memory of the photo is of an older-looking cat, sitting up. Cleo doesn’t sit up that often. She flops on the ground. She’ll only sit up if she’s on the cat tree looking at something outside. Not as a casual sitting position. Again, is the cat I have really Cleo? I asked for the photograph to be sent to me so that I could look but I haven’t heard back.

When I relayed to my friend to say that Cleo was already spayed, she said she was very confused about that information.

So, now, Cleo is a mystery cat! And what happened to the real Cleo?

PS. Advanced warning – I’m planning to move my blog to a new platform as I want to get away from Google. I’ll keep you informed as I'm still working out how to use it at the moment.

El Andalous - Visa Run

ISG Airport Hotel Courtyard

 

Well, I survived the visa run – this is what the expats in Egypt call the short flight there and back to Istanbul in order to get a new entry stamp in your passport so that you can apply for a year’s extension visa in Egypt. We have to leave the country once a year for security reasons. It doesn’t seem very secure in times of a pandemic, but it is what it is.

The first thing was to get a PCR test. For Istanbul, if you time your flights right, a single PCR will see you through for your journey there and back (not needed if you are fully vaccinated, although airline requirements may differ).

I dutifully booked in the PCR test in advance and the doctor checked that he had my phone number. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise he hadn’t confirmed the booking again the day before (as he promised) until it was too late.

We arrived at 10am for our appointment, and the clinic wasn’t open. I phoned after ten minutes and he said he’d arrive in half an hour. Eventually, we got in, but the doctor said he’d lost the record of our appointment and that the PCR person only comes when booked. We had ordered a taxi for 10.30pm for our flight, so we couldn’t postpone for another day.

Fortunately, the doctor discovered that the PCR guy was seeing someone else in Sahl Hasheesh and so could come over and do our tests in half an hour. After ninety minutes, the PCR guy arrived.

I’d been dreading the test, but actually it was fine (I told him to be gentle!) and the stick was thinner than I was expecting. I gave them my number again and asked them twice to check it, but they refused, saying it was fine. They promised we’d get the test results by 10pm at the latest.

Well, ten o’clock fast approached and the tests hadn’t arrived. I phoned the doctor, but he wasn’t answering. The guy in the pharmacy next door said that the doctor had left already. What to do! Our taxi to the airport was arriving in half an hour.

I struck upon the idea of phoning the hospital where the test would be analysed (that’s how desperate I was as I hate the phone). Fortunately, they were able to confirm that the test results were available and had been sent to the doctor (who obviously hadn’t sent them on). They sent the results to me directly when I said I couldn’t contact the doctor. Phew.

After some time working out how to get the pictures from WhatsApp to my laptop so that I could print them out, and after dashing outside to get the taxi to wait, we finally made it to the airport. What a load of stress! I even forked out an extortionate amount for a water to rejuvenate myself a bit. Safi asked the taxi driver to put his foot down (she was saying this to an Egyptian – what was she thinking!), so the drive to the airport was a bit hair raising. I’ll leave that to your imagination.

The flight (at 1.45am) went well. We’d booked an aisle and a window seat and the middle seat remained free (hurrah). I wanted to have a drink and a kit kat during the flight, but the airline’s  machine wouldn’t accept any of our cards (we tried about four different ones). The hostess kindly gave me a kit kat for free and they brought me a water (which I badly needed after sweating so much earlier on!).

We arrived on time and we’d purchased fast-track tickets beforehand from the airport website. This was the best thing ever. Massive queues snaked along for passport control and we walked past them all and went right through. Amazing. I felt like a VIP.

Everything else went smoothly. We’d booked a room at the ISG airport hotel (SAW airport; we flew with Pegasus) and I used the phone provided to call the transfer service. Our room was great (and they didn’t charge for early use of the room), but we had breakfast before crashing. The restaurant didn’t have proper menus (due to covid), so we just said what we wanted and they had most of it, apart from the request for brown sauce which turned up on our table as mustard. I had some lovely scrambled eggs with mushroom and sausage (not pork sausage, but hey ho).

After that, we went to the room to sleep. Then we ate again (mushroom soup and molten chocolate cake and a fresh orange juice), and then slept again. We decided to eat at the airport, although it turned out that all the eateries at the airport served pretty much the same thing (pizza, burgers), although I did manage to get some chicken tenders and French fries. Feeling hungry yet, dear reader?

Again, the flight went smoothly, and we landed without incident. The taxi driver collecting us looked rather tired, but he was there, and that’s the main thing. And that was the dreaded visa run, all done and dusted.

Senzo Mall - Chilli's

 

Part of New Food Court Area

When you read this on Monday, I hope to have just returned from Istanbul and I expect I will be exhausted. I’m on my visa run to Istanbul and back, staying only during the day on Sunday and flying out at night again on early Monday morning, just so that I can get an international visa stamp in my passport which will allow me to apply for a year’s visa in Egypt. I’ll tell you all about it once I’m back.

Anyway, in the mean time, my life has somehow been very busy and it’s often revolved around food, because that’s one of my favorite ways of socializing.

One thing I did was to go to Senzo Mall with Mona (who has a car) so we could try out the new restaurant Chilli’s that’s just opened there. Senzo Mall is developing a whole food court outside – there’s KFC, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Jacob’s café, a sweet shop, Cordoba (restaurant relocated from where it was before), Bianco (another café/restaurant), and Chilli’s. More places are to come.

Whenever I go to Senzo Mall in the morning for my weekly shop, it’s dead. Consequently, going in the evening (we were fairly early, maybe about 7pm), I was shocked. The place was buzzing. The car park was quite full. The restaurants had customers when normally all seats are empty. We got a table outside.

I hadn’t realized that Chilli’s was a chain. It’s funny because they are using the Chilli’s branding, which includes big adverts for fresh Margaritas, but actually they have no alcohol (this is Egypt, after all). I remember Theresa posting about that on FaceBook with huge disappointment and Mona (also Egyptian/American) suggested to our waiter that maybe they alter the branding a bit for Egypt. But here they aren’t too bothered about contravening the trades description act (well, I guess it doesn’t exist, so they can’t contravene it).

The food was really good. I had a burger, since I don’t normally eat burgers and it was good to have something different. It was huge – American portions. For a drink, I had freshly squeezed strawberries. I’d definitely go back.

We wanted to go into Senzo Mall afterwards to buy some things (Mona) and get money out (Me). I couldn’t believe how busy it was; hardly anyone was wearing a mask. People have commented on this before, but because I go only in the mornings, it doesn’t bother me (there’s so much empty space and the Mall in any case has open doors at every corner). Now, however, it hit me like a blast of air on my face. I really can’t remember if was always this packed at night and I’ve just become unaccustomed to it, or if it was busier than usual when we went because it was shortly after Eid. In a way, it was nice to see all the life and for everything to look so normal. I wore my mask, because you’re supposed to, but to be honest, as I said to Mona, if anyone did have covid, I was probably stuffed anyway (as the mask doesn’t do that much). Oh well, the place is pretty well ventilated.

I went to get money out, but the area with cash machines, which is enclosed, was crowded with people and long queues. I couldn’t be bothered. I went back to the Pharmacy, where Mona was also in a queue. Apparently, she had Russians in front of her who had a huge list of medications they wanted to buy (you can self-medicate over here). Mona too decided she couldn’t be bothered.

And so we went back to Sahl Hasheesh. It was lovely to eat outside of Sahl Hasheesh for a change. I must do it more often.

If you’re looking for another blog to read, a friend is writing this one: Halfway Over the Hill about life in Italy… I can highly recommend it.

El Andalous - Blog Holiday

 

Unspoiled Sahl Hasheesh

I'm going to take a week off from writing my blog this week, but do not worry, all is well!

Life seems to have been very busy and it's also very hot and I just can't bring myself to write.

Service returns as normal next week. Meanwhile, have a fun week, everyone!

El Andalous - More Boat Trips

 

Busy Sea During Eid

It’s the summer, so it’s getting very hot here and that means… boat trips. They are a relatively safe activity (touch wood) during pandemic times since it’s usually windy and it’s hard to breathe the same air twice.

One boat trip took place on Theresa’s return from Miami, which also marked the end of me having to cat sit. Quite a few people are back in Europe now, so it wasn’t so easy to drum up the numbers; also big Eid (which was this past week) was coming up, meaning that boats were getting booked up.

In the end, I think about eight of us went. As usual, it was a fab day, especially since Theresa had bought some KFC. I couldn’t have wanted for more. There was a slight hiccup at the beginning, because Theresa overslept and we also got a little lost getting there. But all’s well that ends well. I managed to do some swimming as well as snorkeling, although I’m always wary when I swim out in the open sea in case a boat doesn’t see me, so I never swim that far away. And there’s the fact that I’ve been left behind on at least two occasions!

We also had a rooftop buffet for Theresa when she returned – each of us made a separate dish. I cooked some chicken drumsticks, but I forgot that my oven isn’t particularly good (it’s just a small portable thing), so they took ages. And I had to shut Cleo in the bathroom in order to be able to get out of the flat without the drumsticks being attacked by her. At the end of the evening, they weren’t all eaten, so I put the rest in the freezer.

These, I took on another boat trip. This one was with a few friends, and a friend’s family members. We had a glass-bottomed boat to ourselves and stopped off at one deep (well, it really wasn’t that deep, but to the non-swimmers it was deep) place and one shallow place where you could stand.

On both boat trips, we have music with us, so we have a bit of a dance while sailing the waves (and downing the alcohol – although I tend not to drink much these days).

To be sociable, I went afterwards onto our rooftop where people gather most days at around sunset to have a drink and a chat among friends. It’s just a casual thing. Anyway, I hadn’t been for a while and thought it was time to show my face. I brought my drumsticks from the previous group meal we’d had, and that I’d just taken on the trip with me, and they all seemed completely horrified. I did explain that they’d been frozen, but I got the distinct feeling I’d made a faux pas. Oh well, I usually have a strong constitution….