Sidi

In true tradition of my egyptian family, we managed to cram small civilisations and way too much food into my newly acquired car for a trip down the coast to our favourite sea-side resort, called Sidi Abdel Rahman.
Traditions were keenly observed in my father's choice of Opera music (the only music he can stand- and not exactly what us passengers wanted to hear first thing in the morning) and in us discovering once the police officer had pulled us over, that we weren't actually supposed to drive our car without the right papers (we only have a commercial licence so far) AND even better my father found out that his driver's licence had expired a WHOLE YEAR AGO and he hadnt even noticed, much to his shame and humiliation in front of seven grinning females.
How he managed to drive shitty for a year without being caught is beyound me, but then again he is a bit scary, especially in his 1982 Chevvy (a pimp ride that would make Xhibit cry for joy)...

Finally arrived at the hotel after two and a half hours of dissecting Glamour magazine with Amina and Sara and trying to block out Pavarotti by gossiping real loud. The beauty of the place is that it hasn't changed one bit, with its winding corridors and mud-brown tiles, stained windows and lush white sand.
We got a three-bedroom villa right at the end of the bay near the sanddunes that we used to roll down as kids, with two bathrooms (really useful when you're dealing with seven women) and a terrace right onto the beach. Niiiiiiiiiiiiice.

Sadly, very windy day which got even windier, and sea was a bit rough and cold, which resulted in Sara, Amina and me yelping as we tried to get into the water.

Sunbathing was more like torture than fun when sandstorm began and sandgrains hit our butts with the fervor of gunshots. I gave up after a while, and dozed on couch, watching that scene in "At First Sight" where George Clooney takes his shirt off. Mmm.
Only then did I discover a stinging sensation on my arm, and found a Mothahuge scar, probably a jellyfish or just a really pissed off fish.
See, this has always been the case with me, i only discover my scars after they happen, comes from a childhood of treeclimbing and dogchasing.

At night, Sara had her hourly phonecall with Sherif, whom she insists she does not want and yet she shuts herself into our bedroom to laugh over the phone, and i think "Denial is not just a river that runs through Egypt". Amina was interestingly unglued to her phone and when i asked her where her fiance was, she said she couldnt care less. it's a relief to know that they have fights every now and then, and that she's still very insecure about the whole thing; sometimes they're just a leeetle too loveydovey perfect for me; and i don't blame her for having doubts- he was her first boyfriend, so how does she know he's as good as it gets?

Once the phonecall was over, we walked over to the playground, and played Who-Can-Go-Higher on the swings, but noone came with me on the slide because they insisted that slides were just too childish for 22year olds. I ignored them and went Weeeeeeeeeeee! a couple of times, before the supermarket boys came out to leer at us so we walked away.

Decided to karaoke all the way down the beach, making sure that every single hotel room and villa heard our acappella version of "Like A Prayer" and "Baby Got Back" (which would have had Sir Mixalot in tears) as well as songs from The Little Mermaid, Sound of the Music and Mary Poppins (which incude a re-enactment of that Singing in the Rain dance around the lampost).
Then sat on sand, and still unsatisfied with the chaos we had wrecked, decided to work the Jungle Song, where my sister and her friends joined in, and our "Awembuwa Awembuwa" rendition echoed off the sand hills and sent bats scuttling back into their holes.

Then played cards with sister's friends, and ego somewhat bloated after previous winnings in Basata, boasted that i would kick their asses at Cheating, and over the next hour, proceeded to get my ass cheerfully kicked.
Tiptoed into bed (couch cushions on floor) with tail between legs.

In the morning we climbed up the sanddunes and ran down into the water. We would have rolled down but we've grown up and yesterday's bullet sandgrains remain firmly printed in our buttcheeks, so we did it the ladylike way.
Now two days later, realise that i didnt even take any photos or bring my journal.
Must start writing again.