Best Laid Plans of a Slomad
Spanish Tapas, Bilbo Baggins, Camels and Japanese
Where in the World has OzzyHopper Hopped to Now?
I started teasing everyone on the 1st of February this year – exactly 3 years to the day when I arrived back in Tangier. But it was time for me to move on. I have discovered that I am a slomad. I roam without plans. I stay until I’m ready to leave, whether a few days, or a few years.
When I arrived back in Tangier on the 1st of February 2021, I expected I’d be there for just a couple of months while I sorted the details of a job in China.
I was wrong.
I should have known better. I mean, when I left Australia in 2019, 5 years ago, I was actually aiming for Kazakhstan.
I missed.
And ended up in northern Africa. So I really should not have been surprised. Nevertheless, I laid out my plans for leaving Morocco (as it happens, on the 1st of February, 2024), teasing everyone, making a guessing game out of where I was going.
As it turns out, I didn’t know myself. I just didn’t know that I didn’t know. And every time I made a new plan, it changed!
Gambas Pil Pil - perhaps my favourite tapa of all
So where did OzzyHopper hop?
Spain. Via 2 weeks in Cairo.
Wrong again.
I got to Spain. But that was it. 2 days later when I went to the airport ready for my trip to Cairo – We have your name, but no booking for you.
I wrangled, begged, cajoled, did kangaroo impressions, and eventually even tried tears (by then, not much trying was needed). There were still seats available on the flight, but nothing I tried worked. I tried bank cards, credit cards, debit cards, sweet-smelling perfumed cards, promises on their great grandmother’s gravesite, even ring-a-friend.
It seems I was simply not meant to go to Cairo that day. The universe had other plans for me. When my best option was a flight nearly a week later that went from Malaga to Madrid, London, Amsterdam, Istanbul, and only then to Cairo, I gave up.
So Spain it was. All my teasing about where I might end up had suddenly gone very flat.
Not to worry – I’d just get into my Spanish plan sooner. Almost 3 months of Schengen visa, hoping to get a bit of work or something with a visa to stretch it to a year, make my ‘not-quite’ Spanish into something usable, to get my final edit finished and my book – The Lost Labyrinth of Egypt - onto a publisher, and the next part of my plan moving forwards.
My friend Bilbo
I spent my mornings in a wonderful movie pub in the centre of Malaga. I had my second breakfasts and third coffees with Bilbo Baggins while discussing my story scenario. I sipped my sangria with Superman and Charlie Chaplin while talking about how to save the world. I savoured some wine with Sherlock while trying to solve my problems, or a beer with Humphrey Bogart while sharing some anecdotes, memories and music.
Play it again, Sam.
Maxwell Smart, watching my back, right next to the stairs to Gotham City
I got through the first three parts of 8 in my story for a third time. This time I was not going to stop until I was done. I had worked everything out.
But… an unexpected crisis, and I was suddenly in Spain with just 6 days of money left.
Where was OzzyHopper to hop from Spain?
I needed somewhere very, very cheap, and very, very fast. So I jumped on a plane to Cairo, as my flatmate from Tangier had been telling me to since the day we’d left.
Magical view from the plane of the Giza pyramids
The first trip to Cairo – On Kissing and Lying in Cairo, The Quest, and remember the Missing Member? – was quite different to this one. Of course a mandatory visit to my favourite café, Horreya, which sells only beers – a lovely half litre bottle of Stella or few, and old friends, but just a few days and a bus across the Sinai.
This is the cheapest way to the east Sinai, but it is not just an 8-hour overnight bus trip.
The Sinai is a special region of Egypt, with extra security. It’s not even a part of Africa!
Fun Fact: The Sinai is technically in Asia. Just like Turkey, Russia and Kazakhstan, Egypt is also split across 2 continents.
So all traffic is stopped at several checkpoints. Normally you are likely to have 5 passport checks, plus 3 baggage inspections. That means, unload all your gear from the bus, take it over to the tables, open them, then repack them, and the bus.
All through the middle of the night.
And a small extra – I was moving. And one of my bags was broken. (by a taxi driver in another country, a whole other story). I wasn’t just backpacking. I was moving house.
You see, as a digital nomad, the golden rule is, keep to one bag for cargo (or less – I’ve met them). And keep the weight down. I left Australia with a 20kg backpack and a 12kg cabin bag. 32kg is way too much. It is too heavy to carry around.
I trimmed that down to 20kg in total. I know how much ‘20kg’ is – it’s about as much as I can comfortably carry.
But then, I stopped for 3 years.
Over time I started to expand on the 2 skirts I had in my wardrobe, acquired some scarves and hats. I found a couple of beautiful Moroccan bed coverings. I bought 2 of the magnificent pottery bowls for my noodles. And a few more books, and…. Well, you get the picture.
I love the Moroccan pottery - I had to make these ones gift…
And halve it as I might, I still had way too much. Now I had a nice, thick Moroccan djellaba I’d sewn myself. I had a Jordanian Fah’wa which is like a fleecy blanket with sleeves. I lived in it in the winter, but it fills my backpack in one go. I’d collected some Palestinian table covers, my statue of the Egyptian god, Men, a painting from my friend and a poster of another…
All jammed into too many bags, one of which burst every time I moved it. Oh, and did I mention the 6kg of Spanish cheeses and pork sausage meat, plus 4 bottles of duty-free whisky (1 litre bottles!) promised to my friend? (At least the alcohol wasn’t smashed or poured down the sink as happened to another friend coming and bearing similar gifts!)
This was not hopping. This was a tortoise with way too much baggage! An elephant squeezing into a tortoise’s house. The whole of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld in one go!
So after a 12 hour overnight desert bus trip - yes, 12, not 8 - with 3 baggage stops and 5 passport checks… I arrived back in Dahab.
Laguna Beach at Dahab
I am warning you now. Dahab is not a place you go to visit once. It is a vortex. You either come and go – many, many times, or come and stay. There simply is no other sort. It is already my second time.
So why? What’s so special about Dahab.
It is a remnant of the hippy world. These days so few are left, all gentrified and taken over by money making projects. Sharm El-Sheikh used to be a hippy town, but it is now all resorts, smoothed over to the generic.
I love places which are gritty, still got that earthy feel, and not too pretty.
I love Dahab!
Nuweiba, another oasis an hour north of Dahab - the ferry stop to head to Aqaba in Jordan. As you see, the desert comes all the way to the sea itself.
Dahab is an oasis on the coast, with desert running all the way to the water. The main part of Dahab is one street all along the water, and half another one. (Yes, there is some more – the shopping centre called Asala – that’s arse-allah – where the locals and wannabe-locals shop - I mean, yes - those who came for 2 weeks, 4 years ago. Now have their pad, at least one dog, maybe cats...)
The main street, starting from the area called Lighthouse, is shops on one side, and cafés on the other – cafés hanging over the water.
My perfect work station.
So many to choose from.
Coffee. Work. Swim. Repeat.
Until it’s time to change the coffee to beer. Drop the work and swim bit. Options can then include one of the bars with music, a backstreet game of backgammon with Egyptian rules and a glass of milky hot sah’lab loaded with sultanas and nuts, or perhaps watching the moonrise over the sea, the Gulf of Aqaba just above the Red Sea, looking across to the hills of Saudi Arabia.
Backgammon with Sah’lab - warm thickened milk with raisins, nuts and coconut…
It’s another part of the world.
For dinner we special order home cooked vine leaves from a lovely lady. Another night we go to the fish shop in Asala, pick our fish and tell them how to cook it. Yet another is your basic Egyptian fare at Abu Mahmoud, with humus and foul (Egypt’s classic fava bean and garlic mash) and half a BBQ’d chicken flavoured with Egyptian spices, the chicken soup and potato dishes with salad…
One of the fish-to-order, with humus, babaganoush, salad… Or stuffed pigeon and vines leaves…
Followed by a quiet sit with some sweet tea, an early evening nap, then visit the Furry Cup…
Yes. The Furry Cup.
And no – not what you’re thinking. Well, actually it is. The Furry Cup is one of our favourite spots to hang out, a pub started by – an Aussie – about 20 years ago, who in a moment of inspiration called it….
The Furry Cup.
Otherwise known in more polite society as the map of Tasmania. Ok. So, polite is not a word that applies much to Aussies.
So, not a slang preference for lesbians, but one of our favourite watering holes… music, occasional DJ, karaoke, and of course, drinks
Or, of course, if you prefer you can dance to some techno next to the waves at Blue Beach. Or go to Coral Coast where you can lounge back with your feet in the sand and waves at your elbows after trivia night, sit at a bar on the rooftop balcony above Red Sea Relax resort, or catch some live music at Every Day across the footbridge.
Still The Furry Cup
If you want to keep going into the night, check out some dancing, salsa even, and watch the moon set over the rail above the water at Jackie’s.
I think you get the picture now – Dahab is a place to chill. Add in the swimming, and the fact that it’s one of the top scuba diving spots in the world, with a renowned Blue Hole amongst its treasures – a circular hole in the coral that drops for hundreds of metres in a cylinder of coral wonder.
The water is unbelievably clear, and always inviting - even mid-winter
Dahab’s Blue Hole is Egypt’s trophy diving spot, 130 metres, and amongst the best diving spots in the world. And don’t forget the night diving!
When finally prodded to grab a snorkel and see for myself, I was blown away. Not Blue Hole, which is 8 km north of Dahab, but just in front of the cafes in Dahab, in the Lighthouse area. I swam along the edge of the coral reef in absolute awe. Everything was spectacular, a superb 3D-kaleidoscope of fish and colours and definition.
If you ever have the chance to snorkel, it is a must do in life! It is an easy-do. You just move around on the surface of the water – the Red Sea and at Dahab it is relatively enclosed. Hence it is very salty and easy to float.
With goggles and snorkel to breathe, just look, and wow! Be a voyeur. Spy on a single fish and see what it does. Check out his family and his secret guilts.
In another dimension, there is also night snorkeling and diving…
Each day, I head out. The morning smell of coffee riding on the sea salt. The divers already pulling the trolleys loaded with air tanks to their designated sea-school, the sleepy faces of the Egyptians on the few clothing shops starting to open, most still closed.
It’s April, and already it’s feeling warm at 9 or 10 when I make my way down to a café to work – Nirvana perhaps, or will I try Fresh Fish today?
And yet, the bizarre can happen. I feel that Dahab is a remote part of Egypt. An Italian I’ve just met wants to be clever.
“Arigato”, she says.
Wait! What??!!!
“Nihongo wakaru?” She looks at me with as much shock as me her. An Italian speaking Japanese in this remote part of Egypt! Turns out that she’s lived in Japan on and off for many years.
Then there’s the Egyptian from Cairo who’s never been there, but can hold a conversation in Japanese.
Another diving customer at Fresh Fish is now staring at me. Something about our conversation has him interested.
I smile at him. He says the last thing I expect.
“Do you want some work?”
His Japanese is better even than mine!
Turns out he has been living in Japan for many years. He is an events manager and in need of help from somebody who speaks Japanese and knows the culture!
I have a great imagination. But so many times – and this is another – it simply doesn’t stretch to the truth. If I tried to write in a character with details such as this – or for that matter, describe many of the people I have met – my stories would be criticized for being absurd and unrealistic.
But, next thing I know I am writing emails to people like ex-members of One Direction to see if they're available on certain dates.
Ok. So I’m writing to their managers. But for the sake of a bit of gloating, we’ll skip past that little bit. Details, schmeetails. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story!!!
It is surprisingly hard work, in that I must concentrate on new learning tasks. At the end of the day, weary, still in my swimmers and flip flops and watching the wind surfers just beyond the break, I am thinking of a beer and some chilling at Nirvana or The Furry Cup. My new boss says:
“Hey, we’re going for a sweat in the desert. Do you want to come?”
I have no idea what he means by sweating in the desert, but with the promise of food and a personal habit of saying yes to everything, half an hour later I find myself at Wadi Gnai on the edge of Dahab. I am nose to nose with a camel, still in my swimmers and flip flops.
Wadi Gnai, Dahab
Next thing I know, I am riding a camel barefoot through a desert canyon next to the sea.
Riding a camel is no big deal, sitting on the back of a camel while it gets itself from sitting to standing is a whole other story!
The camel is a remarkably well-designed beast for its purpose. The hump is fat deposits, so that the camel can last for extremely long periods of time without food. It can also manage for a very long time without water. It will drink huge amounts, and absorb this into its bloodstream so it can keep on going through the harsh desert terrain.
They can carry big loads and walk for great distances.
But one thing they were not designed for is getting up and down.
So, if you get onto a camel, hang on!!!
First it will stand up by its hind legs, throwing you forward and potentially head over toes. Then it will get onto its front legs, throwing you backwards and A over T if you don’t hold on.
From an afternoon working on my laptop by the beach and sending messages to rich and famous singing icons, I now find myself riding a camel barefoot through some incredible desert gorges at sunset.
The gorge is spectacular, but taking a photo is out of the question. While I am fine gripping the saddle with 2 hands, taking off even one to try to turn on my phone makes a potholed road seem like a smooth drive.
And as for the sweating in the desert bit?
I find myself in a Bedouin camp with a sauna created by a woman from Mexico.
Because that’s how a hard day at the office on a laptop normally goes. Right?
After a lengthy sit in this wonderful sauna, and a dunk in the icy pool, it is an amazing meal of meat, rice, humus and vegetables, then sweet tea, followed by a Bedouin campfire and desert music – music of the beautiful, haunting kind.
Bedouin campfire at Wadi Gnai
Some acapella singing. Some Mongolian throat singing. Some Bedouin desert music. Some people producing and playing harmonic instruments I’ve never seen before, and producing the most extraordinary and meditatively beautiful sounds and singing I’ve ever heard...
The Bedouin adventure in the gorge over, (well, not exactly, since my flatmate and friend is also Bedouin) but hardly less spectacular, I am back in Dahab at a café in the sand, to while away the rest of the evening with friends, a quiet Stella beer, and the most magnificent moonrise across the gulf and over the Saudi Hills.
