Hurghada, Egypt

February 6-12, we fly from Athens to Cairo to Hurghada on the west coast of the Red Sea, heading to the all-inclusive resort-land for a holiday within our holiday, so we don't have to navigate, shop for groceries, cook or sightsee, where we can be pampered and waited on hand and foot, read in hammocks, eat our heads off, and generally get used to the idea of somewhat independently navigating Egypt, it's culture and custom.

Steigenburger el Dau, you were good to us, after 3 days we were bored! Ha! The winter winds are almost hurricane force on some days, the staff are top-notch, Mosun at the front desk arranges our public transit from here to Luxor, even going tomthenroadto now on his morning off to purchase the bus tickets for us, his wife Sarah works for 2 days to enable Marc to watch the SuperBowl at 2 am Egyptian time, his team, the Denver Broncoes win! 

The lobby's Coffee cart introduces me to Egyptian coffee, I watch this groundskeeper weed one bed for an entire day, remembering with fondness how much I have loved entire days on my stepstool, weeding my own gardens over the last 30 years, hoping he's enjoyed it as much as I. Classical pianist every night in the lobby, man was she good, and Egyptians on holiday stay up until the wee hours of the morning, small children included, socializing in the lobby.

Venturing into the town of Hurghada on our third afternoon, we take the hotel shuttle in as a drop off and pick up, to test the waters of Egyptian street life, re-invigorating our skills at keeping hawkers at bay. We are rushed immediately upon the shuttle's leaving, push vendors away. "La-la-la" means "no-no-NO!" We walk the main drag filled with crumbling tourist shops, gaudy Chinese goods stores, adventure trek businesses, and finally find the side-street that will take us to the Port. Definitely a theme on this trip, our love of Ports, one that we didn't deliberately plan, but has been a happy byproduct of the destinations we've chosen.

 Hurghada was originally a small fishing village until it was developed by the large hotel resort chains, and it is now solely (really) reliant on tourism. We could have chosen it's sister resort complex a little further north at Sharm el Sheik, which we understand is less-developed, the town's charm still evident, but with the Russian plane disaster a few weeks before our booking, we decided on 

Hurghada.

It's mosque in the centre of town is beautiful,  the port is small and active with local fishermen and it's daily market, the family shops around here full of color and squalor. 

We experience the best sunrises from our balcony, it takes minutes to rise over the Red Sea horizon, and every morning the sun's pinks , oranges and reds greeted us and  the early start to our days here. We watch many boats come and go in and out of the harbours that dot the coast.

We book a snorkelling adventure, this really has me stepping out of my comfort zone. I am a textbook case for why your children should be put into some kind, any kind, of sporting activity when they are young. My athletic career consists of making the Grade 6 volleyball team. Once. And a brief running stint in Grade 9. Oh, and my cross-country ski ventures in Chelsea - the longest time I stuck with anything athletic and almost enjoyed it, and I actually learned to ski down the bunny hill at Jay Peak and Hansen at Tremblant, embarrassing my daughter to death when the chair lift knocked me flat on my face.  Other than that, my nose was always in books, my eyes set on a piano score. I do not  have very much physical confidence, so snorkelling in open water has me up most of the night before, anxiety squeezing my bowels, talking through with Marc exactly what's going to happen. He's by my side, is so familiar with this side of me, he knows what it will take to get me to jump. I'm good! 

We saw coral just like in the movies, with little colourful fishes within arms' reach. A kind, kind crew and lunch served in the galley, it was a beautiful day on the water.  We were joined by a couple from England doing their last day of scuba certification. Great conversations and laughs together.

No photo evidence of me in a wet suit, but I was! And we passed by this stark outpost on the far shore with its Hollywood sign of PARADISE. It looked abandoned and made us laugh.

We spend our remaining days - 2 too many - lounging on the beach, Marc finds his hammock, watching the various female Burkini's that Egyptian women wear to swim. We witnessed robed swimming 26 years ago at a beach in Morocco and we're happy to see that functional design has somewhat evolved. Of course Marc ventures outside the buoy line for a Red Sea swim, the water is warm and salty. I enjoyed a Spa day to restore my body from 2 months of travel, a traditional Egyptian Hammam, exquisite. 

By the end of our 6 nights here, we're ready to be somewhat independent in Egypt, and leave mid-day for the bus station to catch our coach to Luxor, on the Nile, and 2 hours further south.