Darkfairyadventures's Blog
Life outside the comfort zoneMountain of Myths
As a traveller-tourist you are quite likely to visit sights that have become a tourist cliché; millions have gone before you and if judgement day is not due tomorrow millions will follow. Mount Sinai is one of those tourist cliché and I like to believe for good reasons. The mountain is considered holy and whatever your faith or creed you just want to check it out, if only it was to see what all the fuss is about. Supposedly on these holy grounds one of the great prophets witnessed and conversed with God through a burning bush and received the moral code for his people which still forms the moral and religious foundation for the beliefs of around 2 billion people today. It was a(n almost) full moon the night we entered the Protectorate to hike to the summit via the Camel Trail, with some shortcuts here and there, which was an enjoyable, moderately intensive two hour workout. The Trail ends 300m from the summit where the journey upwards is completed by ascending via some rocky steps which are well taxing to climb. It took me an eternity to reach the summit, which I would describe as a multi layered plateau. Our guide directed us to a good spot to lay down the mattresses we rented together with blankets just below the summit, from which we could witness the dawn of a new day. I was wearing fifty thousand layers of clothes but the icy wind still made it too cold to sleep during the remaining few hours until sunrise. I wasn’t that impressed with the sunrise. I expected a multi- coloured spectacle in the sky, one you can imagine with a beautiful sunset. I don’t know if it had to do with that particular day or that sunrises on Mount Sinai are just not that impressive. The real treat was yet to come though; descending via the Steps of Repentance. The Steps look like a natural staircase, which have been carved out by a monk according to mythology. The views on the way down are absolutely stunning and the journey demands a fair amount of concentration not to misplace one’s feet especially since I’ve barely slept and felt quite light-headed. Descending down the Steps you have a good view of St Catherine’s Monastery at which we arrived just after nine o’clock and where a small crowd was making its way to the entrance. Only a small part of the Monastery is open to the public. The little church is very impressive and the small museum is set up very well with an interesting collection of religious art, antique bibles, chalices, crosses and the like. And then there is the burning bush. Apparently it is the original bush that has been transplanted from a location within the Monastery and one has build a chapel on the place where the bush had originally grown. The bush looked pretty normal to me and in darn good shape for a specimen that’s more than 3000 years old, but then this bush is holy. When we made our way to the exit, which was the entrance at the same time, we had difficulties getting out as crowds of people made an attempt to find their way through the very narrow entrance/exit and the crowds kept on coming when we made our way towards our mini bus. On the journey back to Dahab I caught glimpses of the Sinai landscape before falling into a coma and thinking what a beautiful creation this part of the world is.
Return to the Sinai
When you travel to foreign places it happens that if you like where you are, you intend on coming back. This intention is seldom made reality because there are so many other places to see and a lot of travellers prefer visiting new places to returning to already familiar locations. Egypt in this case is different for me. I was here in 2008 for a month, very much enjoyed my stay and knew I would be here the following year. After our mid year exams last week we have been given a long weekend. An ideal opportunity to escape Alexandria’s ’winter’ weather and return to the Golden Chill for more summery temperatures and the beauty of the Sinai. This time I didn’t sleep too well on the bus. It was freezing cold. Not because the airco was turned on too high but the bus lacked any heating! In Dahab all seems the same. The place is still chilled, quiet, warm, sunny and the surroundings still stunning. This time I am in smaller and completely different company and the main reason for my return was to climb what the locals call Mozes’s Mountain: Mount Sinai. Instead of being in a group of ten very cool, entertaining, intelligent, kind individuals who love sun, chill and a bit of action I am now part of an eclectic group of five of which I am the only one who has been here before. During my first visit besides having a sense of chill and cool I shared the love for kif with quite a few members of the group with the result that I enjoyed some good and entertaining smoking sessions. This time I was the only one who wasn’t to fussed about lying on the beach while the others were very keen on obtaining a tan. Two girls from our company, one I know from Marleybone uni both studying at uni in Alex, disappeared after the first day to spend the rest of their stay within the four walls of one of the resorts in Dahab city to chill at the pool. One of those things I never really got: why o why would you ‘chill’ around a pool while there is a gorgeous blue sea a few metres further along? Why would you prefer chloride and all sorts of stuff, that is bad for your skin and you health in general, to a beautiful salty see full of reef to explore and fish to discover? But each their own. Then there is my flaky friend Michau who dragged his friend Stelios along who is in Dahab for sunbathing and partying. Dahab is not really a party place but Stelios is half Polish and is therefore very capable of making a party out of nothing. And then there is me who wants to climb Mount Sinai, hang out with my laptop at my favourite chillery and consume some kif. So I have been hanging out with Brahim who we befriended during our last visit and who has been living in Dahab for years doing some jobs here and there. He is a very kind, very non-threatening guy who has helped me to great kif. I chilled at my favourite chilleries, did some studying and indeed climbed mount Sinai.
Dahab has entered the (short) list of holiday destinations I will keep returning to, insha allah. In different times, in different company.
It’s their party (and they whine if they want to)
Visiting a country as a tourist -or a traveller if you’ve got too much edge to call yourself a tourist- is most definitely a very different experience than residing in one. Aspects like cuisine, music, way of interacting and all that jazz concerning culture, which seem cute and exotic when you’re visiting can be quite annoying when you’re in the place on a more permanent basis. I always wondered why expats often tend to stick to their own little community and are trying as much as possible to make a duplicate of home away from home. They don’t learn the language, send their kids to ‘expat schools’ and many interact with the natives as little as possible. What then is the point of living abroad? In the city’s neighbourhood of Kafr Abdu, which is an affluent part of Alex with a fair amount of leafy trees, consulates and foreigners, is a club frequented by expats. We used to go fairly often in the first few weeks. The location is pleasant; it has a nice courtyard and the actual building is a colonial style construction with several spacious rooms. The vibe however can be quite depressing because what many expats are very good at is whining. Whining about the country and its people and that they don’t sell they’re favourite beer at Carrefour. It seems contagious this vibe. Being rather appalled by the negative attitude of these expat-losers at first it looks like that we have been here long enough to suffer from it too. And I’m not liking it. Since last week I feel I’ve been emerged in this vibe of whining people who can’t stop talking about that their fed up with being stared at, harassed or just made uncomfortable. I understand why one may be fed up with all these nuisances, I really do. I don’t understand why people don’t get a grip and just get over it. That really annoys me, probably even more than the nuisances themselves. I find the whining so self-centred; they’re the only ones who are experiencing these nuisances and if not their suffering is the greatest of all. They’re annoyed by a native’s action -or inaction- but don’t have the balls to say something about it to that particular person. I’d like to say that every woman in this country is suffering from harassment. Not only them. I’d like to say that as a dark fairy when you’re not in a big city-and sometimes even if you are- you get stared at all the time almost everywhere in the world. I would like to say that they should make an effort to learn Masree so they can say something back instead of muttering under their breath and let me pick up the bad vibe. I would like to say that the sun is shinning, that life is a lot cheaper than at home, that we lead a good life and are surrounded by good people while some people in the same country don’t have access to clean drinking water and others elsewhere die of hunger.
But why would I, it’s a free world. If people want to whine they’re very free to do so. I just shouldn’t make to it my problem. If they want to give themselves a hard time that’s their prerogative. It doesn’t have to effect me, especially if I don’t want it to. I’m here to take the very best out of the experience and let other people’s vibe not effect me. I guess whining can be nice. It’s a way of letting off steam ’cause one can’t always be positive and upbeat about the expat experience. But it is what we make of it and my choice is to make it good. And let nobody give me no bad vibes.
First row in el-Azhar; let religion be religion
Last weekend Anna, Raisa, Mubarak and I went to Cairo. I wanted a weekend of culture, party, nice food and shopping all in the name of my ‘16th’ birthday and Anna and Mubarak were happy to join me. Raisa never says no whenever there is fun to be had but her main reason for joining us to Cairo was to catch a plane to Damascus the next day where she wants to to her internship. While Raisa left us after breakfast on Friday to go to the airport, Anna and I and our flaky friend Michau went to Cairo Tower to enjoy a nice view over the city for way too much money. Since it was Friday Mubarak went to the mosque for Jum’a (Friday prayer). After performing his religious obligation we met him at el-Azhar mosque, which is quite an institution in the world of islamic faith and culture. Mubarak, who is a highly excitable Pakistani Jordie with matching accent, was behaving like he had seen his biggest idol in the flesh. Since Anna hadn’t seen el-Azhar mosque yet, which is a beautiful building and an oasis of calm in the otherwise chaotic world of Islamic Cairo, we went in which very much pleased Mubarak . Having Jum’a in El-Azhar is a big thing and he proudly told us to all our endearment that he had been praying in fourth row (from the imam). One of the things I like about Mubarak is that I can ask him as a pious muslim anything about religion. He knows who he is and what his faith means to him and is (therefor) comfortable being with people who might have different believes so he has female friends and doesn’t mind anyone drinking alcohol in his vicinity as long as he doesn’t have to touch it. There are muslim ‘brothers’ who are giving him grieve because of this. They tell him he is not a good muslim and that he should not befriend women or people who drink. He and our friend Jameela are the most pious and at the same time most open-minded, kind and compassionate people I know. Is that not what religion is about? When and how does faith, which in my opinion should be a personal matter between the person and God, become a controlling and scary matter, an issue to fear? An awful lot of people have a vision of islam as a suppressing faith in which people kill each other by blowing themselves up, were a(n) (perceived) attack on the teachings results in riots and death threats. A believe, in which women have no rights, are not worthy of any respect and are forced to dress in a large, shapeless, all covering piece of cloth. Does it go wrong when faith becomes political? When it’s seen as a mean to cure most-if not all ills? I do believe that (almost) everything in life is political. From how you deal with your, parents, your partner, your house mates to your interaction with your co-workers, your boss, your friends or the guy or gail at your corner shop and how all these people relate to others. That game is called politics. Politics might be very present in the world of religion, but I believe their should be no room for religion in the world of politics. I’m not sure about my exact argument against this issue. Perhaps I believe politics should be based on reason and not on spiritual believes. Values like compassion and doing good to others form the basis of most if not all religious believes but they are human values first and foremost. Besides that I find religion and spirituality a completely private matter I am probably against religion entering politics because there are too many examples of how horribly wrong that can go (Iran, Afghanistan, (Bush in) Iraq, the ‘Troubles’ in Northern Ireland. Perhaps we humans should protect ourselves against ourselves and just keep religion out of the political arena. Pray on your own first row and mind your own business.
Coming of (yet another) age in Montazah
I am one of those fairies who likes to mark her birthday. Some people don’t care about their birthday for several reasons. They believe it’s just another day and nothing special. I think birthdays are special and you don’t necessarily have to celebrated them in big style, at least not every year, but they should be marked one way or another. A few months ago I had the desire to celebrate my ‘16th’ birthday in a city in the Levant, but the payment schedule of the Student Loan Company made me alter my plans and they turned out pretty good, these altered plans. Me and Raisa, one of the Bremen lot who, after venturing in the Sudan and Ethiopia on her own for Christmas and New Year returned to Alex briefly before going to Syria this week, went to a bar which carries the subtitle ‘touristic cafe’ (sic); Every expat in the city knows this place, which is kitsch looking in a charming way and where they serve a pretty good rosé. I invited some people to join us for a drink. We came across a young man called Alex who I met a few months ago here in el-Iskandereeya when he was on a day trip from Cairo with his flatmates one of which is Chloe who happened to study with us at Marleybone uni but left us after a year to study in Devon and is currently on her year abroad in Cairo (I’m not jealous, I am certainly not). Alex, charming, sweet, very cute, oh-if I-were only-really-16 again, recognized me and invited us to his table where he was sitting with his international posse of pretty cool people all studying Arabic. After being sang to in four languages at midnight we (Raisa and I, the rest drank beer or random mixers) downed another bottle of rose and called it a night at around 2.
The next day I had a simple but tasty breakfast on my balcony in the sun and after having gathered the troops, Raisa, Jameela and Michau, we left for Montazah. I’d heard stories about Montazah but I hadn’t been yet. Now I’ve finally seen that the ‘Pearl of the Mediterranean’ can really look like a pearl. Montazah, at the Eastern edge of the city, houses a large walled park, Montazah gardens which contains lush palm grooves and can be considered a urban oasis. There are several beautiful buildings including a palace that used to belong to King Farouk and is now Mubarak’s summer residence. We gatecrashed a private beach, which belongs to the upmarket Palestine hotel. This time of year the beach is completely empty. The sand is clean and soft, the water clear and the view picturesque. Michau had brought some honey wine from his native Poland. While Jameela had a soft drink the rest if us, later joined by native Alexandrian Ahmed, enjoyed some wine and kif in a rather discreet fashion as these means of intoxication are not allowed or at least not approved of on many private beaches. Although the beach was empty with the exception of a man dressed in sports gear who was walking back and forth along a small stretch of beach which looked rather peculiar and a woman fishing clad in a colourful hijab, which I found a wonderful image ,there were security guards, but because we’re foreigners they allowed us on their sand. When the sun was setting, it was getting a bit chilly and Jameela wanted to pray so we left the beach and went to the mosque opposite the hotel which is a small, beautiful building with atmospheric outdoor lighting. After Jameela returned from her session with God we walked until we were outside the garden walls to catch a taxi. Michau went home to be a lazy, boring bastard, Jameela went home to have her private class which she always has on (most) Sundays and Raisa, Achmed and I went to the bar of the Cecil Hotel. If you want an alcoholic drink in Alex it’s easy to end up in hotel bars since qahwas (coffee houses), basic places where men (only) talk rubbish and smoke sheesha and cafeterias, which are Starbucks-like establishments where one also serves food, are dry. The Cecil Hotel is a bit of an institution established in the late 1920’s were literary and political legends like Noel Coward and Winston Churchill once resided. The lobby and the bar on the first floor ooze past glory but it still has its charm. As has turning 16 again and celebrating a birthday in January in sunny spring-like weather with friends, food and drinks set in chilled places. The Birthday Fairy felt very blessed.
Time is on my side (yes it is)
This morning I felt caught in the claws of an irrational fear. Irrational because I wasn’t quite sure what I was so afraid of. When I thought about it came to me that this fear might have had to do with the notion of ’time slipping away’. I remember my dear mother telling me when I was in my early teens or so that time tends to go faster the older you get. I found it a rather peculiar statement at the time. I mean, time is time is time. Now, two decades and a bit later I realize my memories are accumulating -I probably disposed of a fair amount of them or altered them, I mean, life would probably be a far more painful experience if I didn’t- and my childhood and adolescent life seem to move further and further away like a ship leaving shore at a very slow speed. Time is not just what it is, it’s how we perceive it and what we make of it. Time becomes more precious because we think we’ve got less of it. But considering the average life span of a woman in the Western world and assuming I’m just another statistic I still got half a century to go. That’s a sh*t load amount of time I would say. So again, why the fear?
Perhaps it’s the notion that we’re already a week and a bit into the new year and all those delicious plans and goals I have seem to take more time than I calculated and expected. A lot more. And that freaks me out. Why? Why am scared of not reaching goals I set myself? I can move the goal posts. Why am I scared of failing? I can try again. Maybe I am suffering from delusions of grandeur and I don’t want to discover that I’m actually not superwoman, that my parents are really my biological parents, that I am not adopted and actually a princess from a far away land taken away from my royal king-father and queen-mother.
To achieve and not be scared is a combination of pursuing and letting go. The question is: where is the balance? Where in this all will I trust time, trust myself, let go of my fears and know if I take one step at the time and keep on walking I’ll get there eventually. If I would go too fast I probably wouldn’t have time to enjoy the view. Now, that would be a real waste. Something to be very scared of indeed.
Nights over Egypt
Blessings. 2010 is our year
On the last day of the year I fled the relative boredom of Alex and went to Cairo to spend New Year’s Eve with my friend Moina and her friends. Now, I like Cairo. I am very fond of Cairo. This mad, dusty, dirty, exciting, way- too- big-a-town was my first meeting with Egypt and it was love at first sight. There is proper night life, proper culture, tourist attractions, proper shopping from upmarket malls and the shops in Zamalek and Heliopolis to the souk (market) of Khan el-Khalili with its junk and its gems in islamic Cairo and then there are people from all over the world; Europe, the States, the East, Sub-Saharan Africa, the South Pole… Like with most capital cities Cairo is not Egypt, it’s a world of its own. I expected Alex to be like Cairo, only smaller and at the sea and therefore a bit funkier. But I’ve been rather disappointed. Alex is the second city of the country. Officially the city counts around 4 million inhabitants but Alexandrians speak of twice as much. Despite half of Cairo and the Gulf fleeing to Alex in summer and despite its size I find Alex very provincial. Alex might be the summer breath of fresh air to many Cairenes Cairo is the exciting breath of social and cultural fresh air to me. When Moina and I entered the streets to do some shopping no one bat an eye lid or shouted a word. We were just two chicks minding our business and preparing for an eve of celebrations No one was overly keen to try their English on us or was horribly surprised that we spoke Arabic. We went to a New Year’s Eve Party at the Swiss Club, which is a social club of which there are many in Egypt. I hadn’t seen such an international and multiracial crowd since I left London. Foreigners and Egyptians alike, black, white, Arab, muslim,christian, spiritualist, atheist. It was one nation under a Cairenian groove. In Cairo you stumble on Egyptians who are interesting, educated, well travelled and not that impressed by you being foreign in comparison to Alex where they seem to be a rare species and once you find them you treasure them like they’ve been the best thing since sliced bread.
I told Moina that I didn’t want to go back to Alex. That I wanted to stay and live an expat life as I imagined it to be. Exciting, interesting. Socializing with Egyptians on a inter-personal level rather than a foreigner/expat one. A life in which you don’t have to keep up appearance because they know you do things slightly different and that’s okay. But I did board a train travelling to el-Iskandereeya and I am back at our mansion and I guess that’s all good. After all I have met some really nice people in this ‘Pearl of the Province’ and the distances are not that big and the air far less polluted. I would only be distracted or horrible frustrated if I would be studying in Cairo. Distracted by all the cultural and social events and there would be no time left for studying or frustrated because there are so many things to do and I wouldn’t have time for them because I had to study. Now, if I choose to indulge in some escapism, want to be inspired or just want to have fun big-city style I can catch a train and within 3 hours I am in the city of cities.
Alex is loved by many and I do understand why. It could be that funky smaller version of Cairo at the sea. A true Pearl of the Mediterranean. I would say give it some time but perhaps those who love Alex have different ideas about what makes a pearl a pearl. It’s a free world. Each their own…
That was the year that (almost) was
Dear year 2009
I just wanted to say that I thought you were pretty good. You started out well with an unexpectedly entertaining New Year’s Eve/Night with my evil-little-genius friend Lou in Covent Garden. A week or so later I celebrated my ‘15th’ birthday in style with family and friends from the Lowlands and from around the corner. The month that followed was tough. I felt I had no motivation, energy or discipline so I didn’t accomplish an awful lot. Another month past and the academic teaching-year already came to an end. Then, a stressful time with exams and a lot of work followed by a very joyous trip to Morocco. Then came summer which was the quickest summer in (my) living memory, absolutely disgusting how quickly that went. After that I left for Alex and three months later we can (almost) call it a year. I would like to thank you for a good year in which I made new friends, learnt some new things and continued to be happy being me. Could you please ask your successor to make the year just as good and even better with lots of wisdom, love, health and sunshine?
Many thanks,
Grateful Dark Fairy
The Times They are a-changing
Everything is possible, always.
The year 2010, it has a magical ring to it. End of a decade or the start of a new one. As I mentioned previously, I’ve got good vibes about the year 2010. Maybe because I want it to be a good year, maybe because my vibes are very much in tune. Maybe it’s a combination of both. The older I get the more time tends to slip away into nothingness so I want to be (even more 
) efficient with my time. When it comes to learning Arabic I didn’t find 2009 and easy year. I reached a level within my studies where the more I (try to) know the more I realize how little I know and how much there is to learn. I hope in 2010 I will indeed (start) crack(ing) the code.
In the next year I want to travel a lot. See the rest of Egypt, the Middle East and perhaps other places if my schedule, my wallet and/or my good fortune allow it. I want to prepare for my life after graduation; more research, graduate fair here, presentation there and by summer/autumn 2010 start applying for those wonderfully competitive graduate schemes. And then, you can prepare and set goals but you never know what’s gonna happen and where you gonna end up. All these so called graduate schemes and placements are developed by mainly large corporations and I’m not really a-large-corporation- kind-of fairy but then again I would love to work for the Beeb (who wouldn’t) and they are pretty massive I would say.
I hope in 2010 I’ll fi-na-lly find the key to unlimited power and energy and will fulfil my heart’s desire.
In 2010 I want to learn, love, have fun and be happy and healthy. Quite a humble wish I would say…
Yule is what you make of it
People who know me wouldn’t say that I am a miserable miser who’s got no friends. They would know that I’m not a big fan of Christmas, though. I absolutely loved it as kid. When I was little it wasn’t that popular in Lowlands Country to celebrate Christmas the way people celebrate it know. The feast of St Nicholas on the eve of 5 December was considered far more important. I think quite a lot as changed since then. Christmas became a bigger and (obviously) far more commercial event, I grew older and experienced more family stress then joy during Christmas and on a spiritual level it seems the meaning of Christmas is completely lost to most people .
It would have been nice to see family and friends and to be able to communicate with people in a culture and language we all understand but for several reasons I decided to stay in Alex and I have to tell you; I like it. Firstly there is the weather. Europe is being plagued by fierce winter weather that brings whole societies to a stand still. It might be windy here in Alex but when the sun is shining one could consider it t-shirt-and-flip-flops weather. Secondly, Christmas doesn’t seem to exist. Egypt has a Christian minority, which does not celebrate Christmas on 24/25 December. With the exception of hotels and bars frequented by expats there are no signs of Christmas. No trees, no decoration, no tv-ads, no mayhem in the shops, no spend-money-you- don’t-have-on-stuff-other people-(don’t) say they-want-why?- because -it’s-Christmas,-innit?, no go-stuff-your-face- like- there- is- no-tomorrow-and-getting-stressed about-preparing- the-supper of-suppers, no be- prepared-for-the-day- that-the-whole-world-comes-to- a stand-still (in London all shops are closed by law and there is no public transport(!)).
On Christmas Eve I will enjoy dinner with some newly made friends which I am very looking forward to. Then I can go about my business. Meet some friends, smoke sheesha, study, watch some films, enjoy the winter sunshine and, maybe most importantly, redefine Christmas. What does it mean to me? A time of contemplation of reflection. A time of looking back and looking ahead. Christmas is the pagan’s Mid Winter Feast, Yule, Feast of Light, Feast of Hope, Feast of Abundance. Christmas is the the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the bringer of peace and justice, salvation and the Kingdom of God. I wish to celebrate this as I please without the social pressures attached to it. I wish this Christmas to be a time of light, of hope, of being grateful, of peace with yourself and others, of warmth, of love, of inspiration of renewed energy, of focus and pleasure. The only way is up, baby. For you and me, now.
Warm Yule Wishes,
