American Expat Ethos

gouna egypt

The thinking American expat no longer cares about any particular country; he cares only that the country he is currently in is a safe haven.

The thinking American expat know that America’s economic and political system is nothing more than Capitalism on crank, a mortal addiction for which there is no effective 12 step program.

The thinking American expat laughs at his countrymen’s unending obsession with national leaders, fascist or otherwise, fairly elected, or not.

The thinking American expat knows that many Americans will stop at nothing to get money, sex, and power, and so chooses to avoid most, for he detests primitivist alpha whatever vulgarity.

gouna egypt

The thinking American expat knows that America has been massively enfeebled if not mortally wounded by the Nov ’16 election, but that playing chamber music on the deck of the Titanic is a stupid option: let someone else be the sacrificial martyr on the altar of presumed freedom; it’s all a fool’s game anyway.

The thinking American expat knows that around 40 per cent of the American population are ignorant, dangerous boors.  He can choose to fight them by any means necessary (yawn), or simply move somewhere else where he does not have to interact with such rubes.

gouna egypt

The thinking American expat puts family and clan above all else. It is the Bedouin ethos; nothing else matters.

The thinking American expat knows all naked ambition is meaningless, full of sound and fury, and signifying nothing.

gouna egypt

The thinking American expat knows that fantasies about a Scarface or Quaddafi type of conclusion to the current state of affairs is a lamentable waste of time; enjoying beautiful sunsets in places as far away from America as possible is the smart move, any day of the week.

leaving america



The band’s visit


the band's visit poster

So why are the Egyptian guys all the way in the back on some dusty wind-swept dune?

I’m writing this on a beautiful Sunday morning, while listening to Gouna radio. This is a really chill station, with eclectic, pleasantly relaxing music  that suits the ambiance of El Gouna to a tee. You can turn it on low, and just groove to it in the background as you go about your business, which of course is living life as it should be lived.

Okay, so the main point of today’s post is to show my finicky wife more pics of the new villa I am renting. To cut to the chase, I would sum up by saying this villa is quite airy inside, with significantly better views from the bedrooms and the ample living room and MUCH larger dining room windows than the previous one.  There is a sense of space here, and the smell of the plants that waft in from the impressive garden are marvelous.

But first, some preliminaries for those of you who may be new to this blog.

I am an American expat who has spent the last six and a half months in Egypt (after a few days in Nice, France).  I have been in El Gouna since the middle of September, so I’ve been here 6 months, give or take.  I plan to remain in Egypt another 30 days, and will return to NYC — insha’Allah! – on April 17th, which is when my visa expires.

I left the United States in 2017 because, as an Arab-American, I could not tolerate living under the thumb of the grotesquely obscene Trump presidency. Nothing since then has changed my mind.

With each passing day, the level of corruption and venality and sordidness of the retrograde regime currently in the White House (and the submissives in Congress who have bent over and parted their lily-white cheeks for The Donald) further reveals itself.

You know what, at age 66, I don’t need this crap.

Alas, I return in about 4 weeks to America.

But where the heart matters, I shall spend time in Westchester with my mother, who will be recovering from surgery.

Perhaps during that time, I may be able to catch The Band’s Visit, which I loved as a movie, and yearn to see on Broadway. Most importantly, I hope that Mum recovers smartly from her ordeal, and that all will be fine again.

Following that, I shall return to the tedium that is Florida and be with my wife — who is the only other reason of the heart why I can tolerate it there — for the summer.

She has decisions to make, if we’re to discontinue this ersatz bi-country phase of our long marriage.

Does she want to keep her store going?  Could she live in Gouna for 9 months, starting in October, in this new villa I have rented, without getting really bored?

Is this the right place for us?  Does it have the correct mix of quiet, yet proximity to things (I just discovered the Sea Cineman is a five minute walk away!), provide an agreeable living space, and, most importantly to me, an affordable, direct view of the sea, something I have longed for since 2001?

So far, almost everything about this new place has turned out as hoped.

The north winds keep the bugs away, and the type of people who live on this cove are far more upscale than the loud weekenders who often ruined my three-month stay in the area known as West Golf. It is quite private here.

There is no constant sound of rumbling buses, due to a magnificent front garden that reminds me of Tozeur, in Tunisia, and the smell of the sea air is exhilarating. The gardeners have been told not to come on the grounds after 10am, and that is being respected.  There’s no pool, so no pool man to worry about constantly showing up unexpectedly; and swimming in the lagoon is quite grand.

I have slept like a baby since coming here (once I got rid of two or three skeeters:  I have become a rather expert mosquito hunter in Gouna), with a fresh pleasant breeze coming in through the screened bedroom windows at night.

So here, finally, is the newest gallery of  pics to show my wife what this place is like.  Ordinarily I would not post this many — it’s a time-consuming pain in the butt to resize and compress 35 photographs!

(If we do return to Gouna in October, I am most definitely getting a better camera that will allow me to take hi-def snaps of the wildlife and the moon hovering over the lagoon, and all the other points of interest that I have yet to photograph:  I want to upload the sort of extraordinary pics one can take here, as well as the more unspoiled of vistas further South.)

But we have to decide within 10 days or so, in other to ensure the place will be available commencing October, so this rather extensive tour of the place should give Zouz (my wife) a good idea as to what to expect. By the way, there is a barky dog nearby, so I don’t think Sandy would have grooved here; she is fine where she is, with plenty of food and water. in her rightful placey.

Okay, so without further ado…

washing machine

The washing machine is in the kitchen! No separate laundry room; or dryer for that matter, or even pegs and a drying rack

staircase to the sunroof and master bedroom on 3rd floor

bags unpacked!

bags still packed

6am this morning, the view from my villa of the Red Sea

dining room: 12’W x 14’L

downstairs (foyer) bathroom

guest bathroom

guest bedroom: 12’W x 14’L

living room: 12’W x 20’L (plus cathedral ceiling, as is the case in almost every room)

gouna egypt

master bedroom: 12’W x 17’L — the faux leopard skin couch is nothing if not campy Phyllis Dillerish

spare room with xtra TV and mozinet

master bathroom

sunroof terrace

modern micro and oven

I am going to buy oranges and sqeeze my own fresh OJ!

sideways view of fridge

the kitchen: 8’W x 12’L

Nice, huh? Who knows, maybe some of my old band mates who live part-time in Gouna will drop by before I leave. Then again, I’m not holding my breath.

leaving america


37 Days

gouna pool

The annoying Talayna in the villa next door have ruined the first nice weekend warm enough to swim in the pool: this is the Gouna two-step, at the first sign of good weather, the place becomes infested with loud people, who invariably travel in packs

I am returning to America in a little over a month, and am dreading it — although it shall be lovely to see me Mum in New York again, and of course my wife in Florida.

The idea of being in the same country as the toxic Orange Pig — who now seems to be gearing up to meet Kim Jong Un, yet another bizaroid lunatic, as some sort of pointless, empty suit macho political posturing event, prior to launching a possible nuclear conflict in NK (and, later, Iran) to save his lamentable presidency — is intolerable.

Everyone is waiting for Mueller to drop the hammer. How Trump reacts when Mueller nails him could very well lead to civil war — unless the Russian stooge continues with ever more outrageous circus acts simply to delay the inevitable. Imposing martial law is not out of the question, if millions begin to descend on Washington to remove this madman from the WH, and the Ar-15 crowd shows up to teach those libtard antifa traitors who’s who and what’s what.  This is where this is all heading; from my admittedly distant vantage point in Gouna, it is rather obvious.

In the meantime, the idea that America could be so easily brought to her knees like a cheap slut giving a blowjob to some diseased whoremonger lays to rest any notion of the supposed greatness of that country.

I can only imagine what my grandson will one day think, once his generation has to start paying off the trillions of debt that this calamity of a president and his corrupt, racist party has saddled them with.

I am most definitely going to book a round trip back to Gouna.  I will start moving my stuff into the new villa next Wednesday (I have the right to stay here in this one till next Thursday, the pool is no longer ice-cold, so I shall enjoy, starting Monday, when the Italian dickwads clear out of here, three days of swimming till then. So, bottom line: a three month rental, culminating in only three days of potential swimming time, unless the weather changes or other neighbors move in next door and have themselves a delirious Gouna party time, three days out of three months to enjoy the unheated pool during that entire time; kind of makes you wonder why you should bother having one, particularly when it gets really hot in a month or so and the pool becomes a magnet for breeding skeeters).

If the new villa is suitable (I like being closer to town for the convenience of it, as well as the proximity to the sea), I shall most likely book it again starting in early October.  I will miss Sandy when I leave here, but will not regret the intolerable skeeter situation in this house.

She just can’t keep her little eyes open for long, despite the charming olive oil dawsha next door

But I am absolutely dreading once again having to being in the skin-crawling presence of right-wing America when I get to FLA.

As it now stands, I will be in my hometown of the mind, NYC — where numerous places are trying to remove the despised Trump name off their buildings — to visit Mum for a brief time, and shall stop by the Egyptian Consulate in Manhattan.

It is now located in the East Village on 7th Street (at 110 2nd Ave Rm 201, to be exact, whereas it used to be uptown on the UES), and apply for a 9 month visa, which is possible to do.  I believe Donald Trump will be removed from office within a year, so that will work just fine.

I plan to spend a few days with Mum, or longer if need be, and plan to troll my old haunts in the East Village and elsewhere.  I look forward to that so much, even though the city I have lived in for 30 years has changed almost beyond recognition.

But it is New York, and now that I’m no longer a fat old Florida fuck, I can walk about just like the old days, no problemo — especially since the toe thingie has healed up nicely, thank you very much.

I do not want to live in America until the Orango Khanzeer is removed from office, but I must also bear in mind the responsibilities I have in the US, and not just think about myself.


Big toe on right foot almost healed!

But I will never waver in my absolute determination to oppose everything that vile disgusting ignorant animal stands for, and am determined to stay away from the US until he is impeached or voted out of office in 2020.

Until then, I will try to live as little as possible in an America that has been infected with acute Trumplandia disease: that is why I am now an expat (for the last 6 months, and counting) — I may not have any power to remove Donald Trump from office, but I can remove myself from directly being subjected to the ubiquitous stench of his malevolent, avaricious presence, him, and all the rest of the Bible-thumping, gun-loving retards who cheer his every despicable move.

In the meantime, there’s Real Madrid vs Elbar to look forward to tomorrow at 2PM.


One of the loutish wops from the next door villa. I tried swimming in the pool at 4:30PM, but then they turned on some blaring radio, so that was that. Nowhere in Gouna is peaceful, when it is nice. Sure enough, when the sun dipped over the mountains around 5:30PM, and the desert cold descended like some ice pick, as the wind ripped up, yup, they all took off for some drunken loud downtown dinner, oblivious at having ruined what could have been a beautiful first day in the pool.

Wonder if the dragos (who are nowhere near retirement age) in the villa next door will suddenly realize that their endless chattering and yammer means absolutely nothing in the scheme of things, that whatever insignificant things they say will be forgotten by morrow, and that it will at last occur to them, once and for all, to shut the fuck up and perhaps admire the mountains and the lagoon instead of coming here for the sole purpose of creating a three or four-day ruckus, every fucking week, probably, now that the weather is pleasant.

It is the endless lament of the solitary expat: do I resent the extroverted happiness of others (who evince no obvious interest in talking with me), or do I simply crave solitude and the deep silence needed to reinvigorate one’s sense of spirituality?

Alas, even in the desert mountains, there would be no relief, for nowhere on this earth are we truly alone, as even the wings of our guardian angels do not flutter noiselessly.

leaving america