***Asterisks

Succot – October 1995. Egyptian Sinai, the Gulf of Aqaba coast.
Three days with three families (6 adults and 9 children) from Maccabim

There ought to be a warning sign on the Israeli side of the Taba border crossing into Egypt: “Last Sanitary Pit Stop”. Although the bathrooms in the Lagona Village “resort” in Dahab were clean, the toilets barely flushed, and, since the water in the pipes is “salty”, large buckets of “sweet” water in each bathroom are provided for rinsing off after a shower. The first night of our stay we reported to the hotel clerk that we had no hot water; we were told there would be hot water “soon.” When we realized the second night that there simply was no hot water tank for our bathroom, we were moved to a room on the other side of the courtyard, which did have a hot water tank. That tank produced a trickle of warm water, not enough to shampoo our hair, but at least we could stand under the shower head and bathe. Since the running water is not potable, we brushed our teeth using bottled water. Indeed, we carried bottled water wherever we went, and drank lots of Pepsi during our stay. Aside from the one in our hotel room, we would not see a toilet again until we returned to Israel.

Egypt along the Gulf of Aqaba is like Gaza without the congestion or hostility. Like a third-world nation, it lacks an infrastructure and has no public utilities or services. Garbage is strewn everywhere, few roads are paved, street lamps and sidewalks are nonexistent. New apartment blocks look deserted, but hanging laundry indicates life in them. Not one Hebrew word is visible; nothing indicates Israelis ever inhabited this place. Although some buildings are clearly distinguishable as Israeli constructions, and are recognizable by the trees and plants which were planted years ago and still surround them, most have fallen into disrepair and blend colorlessly into the sprawl of Dahab and Neweiba.

The sights and smells were hard on the senses, but worse was the assault on my ears. Wherever we went, music on scratchy cassettes blared from tinny speakers on tape-players. Black rap-music, with a heavy boom beat, seems to be the most popular sound along the Aqaba coast. Sitting at the restaurant in “downtown” Dahab one evening, I discerned at least four different sources sending waves to my brain.

The Egyptians we got to know have all relocated from the main cities in Egypt to serve the tourist trade in Sinai. They all head home during seasonal lulls. Many speak decent English, and some a bit of Hebrew. They run the hotels, restaurants and shops. They are eager to serve and please, but have completely different conceptions of time and amenities. “Soon” means any time in the future, not necessarily within the hour; “toilet” means a hole in a shack out back. They treat our children wonderfully, indifferent to their rowdiness and bickering, fawning over them as a means of flattering us. Wherever we went, Amit drew attention. By the time we left Sinai I figured I could trade her for at least 300 camels.