egyptian parrot
Babaghan in colloquial Egyptian Arabic means parrot.

Most people don’t know this, but there is a parrot in El Gouna, Egypt.  He hangs out in the dining room of the villa I’m renting for the next 4 weeks.

Now before I continue, to my wife in America, whose store mascot is in fact a Florida parrot, and who not doubt’ll be reading  this post:  your regular email account is full!

And now back to expat stories of the Red Sea.

So yesterday they displayed on a makeshift stage in Basin 1 of Abu Tig marina the FIFA World Cup trophy.  There was a lot of traffic in the area, and a big line for people wanting to get a chance to view it.

I went down there to get some supplies from Bestway, but stayed in the Basin 2 marina at 7th Star to have a Spaghetti Bolognese. It was not as tasty as I remembered it from months past.

Sitting three tables away by the entrance was a large Egyptian family.

The men of course were  on their smartphones the whole time, while the women — some of whom where in hijab attire — talked and ignored their children running around. Now this was an Egyptian family, and their kids were all speaking to one another in accented English. I mean it sounded like they didn’t even know Arabic. Then a group of young Egyptian girls and their beaux came in and sat down; same deal.

As I left 7th Star, a bunch of older Egyptian bodocious tatas decked out sleek black sleet gowns slinked by, no doubt on their way to some function at one of the dance clubs around here.

I walked back home with a few cans of foul medames, and went to sleep concerned about the search lights up in the sky: that was always a sign of impending trouble when I lived in Abu Tig marina itself.

But nothing happened. There was a fireworks display around 11pm but that piffled out in short order.

I went to sleep with the windows open, giving me a view of the cove in front of the villa that leads to the Red Sea itself.

The night was calm, and a light breeze made the wind chimes on the verandah tinkle as I drifted off to sleep. It’s odd how the sea air in Gouna does not smell of salt.

Soon, I found myself in a dream with the parrot from the living room downstairs.

He told me about this house, and who did the carpentry work, and all about it’s management layer, and those who worked for it who were fired, and much other largely sordid supposedly inside info about what goes on in general with the rental of Gouna homes that only parrots know.

Good thing all is well with America, where it’s normal for the President of the United States to hire Hulk Hogan’s lawyer to represent him in court against a porn star

I woke up around 6am, made Turkish coffee, and gazed out at the pink sunrise over the Red Sea.  No mosquitoes last night, and absolute quiet all night.

I decide to heat up some foul, and turned on Gouna Radio for some eclectic chill music.

This was going to be a good day.

leaving america

 

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