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I don’t know why this memory has suddenly begun to resurface and has got me thinking about a guy I had met when I was in University. Perhaps the young woman I was back then, at one time had a clearer view of the person she wanted to be, and how she expected to be treated by a guy, but somewhere at some point in time during the relationship, she lost sight of that. The reason for sharing the experience now after so many years, is to let other women of different ages know, that these situations happen to all of us, they are not alone and that they can move on from them when they end.
This is my story;
Some friends from University and I went out one evening and one of the guys suggested that we swing by and pick up a buddy of theirs. I had no idea, who this guy was, I had never met him before and I wasn’t very impressed when I did.
He came across as moody and unfriendly. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he wasn’t interested in contributing and didn’t speak much. I gave up trying to make him feel welcome in the gathering after that.
Months passed and I didn’t see him again until one summer. The night was very warm and my friends and I were out at a popular club on a Friday night. We were busting out moves on the dance floor, when I noticed a face in the crowd, looking at me and smiling. He walked over to me and in Arabic said, “Do you remember me? I’m Z’s friend”. I told him “Yeah. I remember you, you’re the one we picked up and wouldn’t talk all night. I thought you were miserable and unfriendly”. As you can tell, I rarely held back and told people exactly what I thought.
He laughed and apologized for his behavior, he said he has been stressed out studying for mid-term finals.
“Let’s start again, My name is Irish. It’s nice to meet you.”
with a big grin, he took my hand in his to shake it and said “My name is X. It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to dance?”
We danced for some time. He wasn’t very good at it, but he clearly wanted to make a better impression this time round. After a while he asked if we could get off the dance floor and stand under a fan to cool off a bit. We talked for the rest of the night. He was quite a popular guy, many people came up to him to say hello and he introduced me to them. When I was leaving he took my number.
When summer came to an end and everyone closed up their summer residents to move back to reality and their homes in the city and the sand and surf became a distant memory. Mr. X called me up and asked to take me out. I agreed. We went to a cafe first and we talked. Well, in all honesty, I probably interrogated him about his likes, dislikes, his plans for his future and secretly hoping I might possibly be included in it.
* Important note* I think this was probably the first time, I had caught myself fantasizing about being courted by a suitor, which would end in matrimony. I had never, thought about it before… it was… new to me. My focus before that was, finishing University and building a legacy of some kind.
When we left the cafe, there was still some time before I was expected home, so we went for a drive that resulted in us going to a popular beach resort within the city. It was once the former Monarch’s summer retreat, with a grand palace, huge garden to take long strolls in and his own private beach. The place now is open to the public to visit with a small entrance fee to be paid at the gate.
We parked and got out of the car for a walk, being there brought back some memories of the summer of 96, when I had met my first love, but that’s a story for another time.
We walked and saw the shore line twinkling with city lights around the bay and down part of the city coast line. The autumn breeze gently nudged us and the waves hit the rocks and sand as they played their eternal and never-ending song. He held my hand as he led me across the sand in my high-wedge sneakers to prevent me from sinking and then pulled me close to him when we had reached the lifeguard chair and tried to make out with me. Without a second thought, I impulsively put him into a choke hold. (Yes, I am dead serious, I had him in a head lock). He was startled and confused by my reaction as he tried to pry my arm away from his neck.
“You brought me here to make out with me and you thought I would be okay with it” I remember exclaiming at him. “Look, you aren’t the first guy to attempt this with me. I know many guys think that just because my mother is a foreigner that I am easy and that I’m okay with things like this, but I’m not”, I went on to say. “Would you be okay with a guy treating your sister this way?” “No” came a forced reply from the captive. “Then you need to stop thinking of me as a foreigner and treat me with respect, like you would any of the girls here. After all, I am Egyptian too.” I demanded. “If I release you, will you promise not to try anything?” With a nod of agreement and a confirmed “I promise”, I let go. “Take me home please.” I ordered
We left and for most of the drive we were quiet. When we got closer to my house, he asked me if I really wanted to go home. “It’s not a question of, if I want to or not. I have a curfew and ?I need to respect that.” “Rules are made to be broken Irish, why don’t you just come with me to Far n’ Away, I’m meeting up with some friends and we can hang out more. (By this time, I thought the guy had little to no respect for me). I told him that I couldn’t and I wouldn’t, because I didn’t want to have to endure the dread shib-shib (it’s the Arabic word for slipper, a tool that many parents use to beat sense back into their children and other people). “Come on, what’s the worst that can happen to you? They shout at you and send you to your room?”
“The consequences of the action is not what is worrying me, it’s losing my parents trust and disrespecting them. As long as I live with them, I live by their rules. If you don’t like that, then I’m sorry, but that just shows, you have little respect for families.”
Thankfully he listened and dropped me off on time for me to not get in trouble. I thanked him for the evening (out of politeness) and went up to the house. I thought I would never hear from ‘X’ again after putting him in a strong hold and not bending to his ways, but surprisingly he called back and asked me out again. A romance bloomed and we dated for quite some time after that.
* That girl you read about had spunk and knew exactly how she wanted to be treated, with respect. She didn’t ask or assume it would be given, she demanded it and wouldn’t except being seen like an object to be used for recreational use. That’s the kind of girl/woman we should all attempt to be. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be doormats, that are walked over and used, by men or anyone else for that matter.
In the months leading up to the summer, I remember a shift in my inner balance. I had never been religious and began exploring it again after over a decade of pushing it away. A result of something that happened in my childhood. The reason for my new-found curiosity of my faith was Mr. X. He was not an angel, but his family were modest and some what conservative people and ‘I’ wanted to know more about their train of thought, beliefs and be a good candidate for their son, ‘if’ things continued on the path we were on. The more I learned the more consumed I became. I began to pray regularly, fast, stop wearing certain clothes that I felt were not appropriate and became more selective of whom I hung out with. I stopped greeting my guy friends as warmly as I once hand and going to places, that I felt were full of sin.
As I look back now, I can distinctly remember, feeling distanced, self alienated, sad, miserable and negative. It puzzled me how, I could feel such darkness, from something that should be giving me peace and light. I know the answer now, but I didn’t know it then. My reasons for my quest were not pure, they were selfish. I had given up a part of my true self, so that another or others would like me more. I had unknowingly turned myself into the dread doormat.
Like most relationships, there were rough patches. We broke up when he went abroad for a few months to get some experience in his field. I told him, I would wait for him and he asked me not to, so we broke up.
My religious phase continued for a short time afterwards, as I subconsciously held on to the hope, that X would return and come back to me. The spell ended up being broken during the summer, when less and less of my old friends wanted to hang out with me. I no longer wanted to go to the beach to swim, go to pool parties or out at night. I was alone and discontent. My mother, sister and dear friends voiced their concerns and pleaded with me to go out. I was resistant at first. However, something that had been dormant, awakened inside me and eventually persuaded me out of the house and I drove to the location of one of the big summer parties held at the American compound, which was allegedly hosted by MTV The Grind. Up until I stood at the gates of where the party was being hosted, I was still debating with myself as to why I should turn back and how this was wrong, but my feet had a different agenda. I walked across the threshold of the gates, my ears guided my feet by following the sound of music being played. I stood taking in the scene of people laughing, dancing, singing along to the music, splashing around in the pool and swimming. I remember, one of my thoughts, ” I have been missing out on so much! What had I done?” My friends saw me and watched intently, waiting to see what I would do. My arms worked fast, taking off the shorts and t-shirt while my mind was still processing everything it was seeing and dove in to the pool. My friends cheered and hooted “She’s back!”
We later got back together some time after he returned. He pursued me and after numerous attempts, I caved. Not long after getting back together he became distant. I thought I had done something wrong and tried to talk to him, but he never flat-out told me what happened. Until one fateful day, I found out that he had gotten engaged to another girl.
Needless to say, I was stunned by the news. It takes a lot for me to be speechless and this was one of those moments. I was hurt, I couldn’t believe that he didn’t have the nerve to break up with me face to face or tell me he had found someone-else and that he was getting engaged. I wasn’t as angry with him as I was with myself for forgetting who I was and my self worth.
In time I got over the experience and put it all behind me. I wish I could tell you that I learned the lesson and it never happened again, but that would be a lie. It took a few more experiences until I realized, what I had been doing and put a stop to it. I am not happy with how things ended between us, but I’m glad that I wasn’t the one who married him, I may have been lost forever. The amusing thing is, to this very day, when our paths cross, he still can’t look me in the eye or be in the same vicinity as me for more than a few minutes.
I have learned that every experience has a lesson. This experience taught me something very valuable, never, ever, try to be something I am not for someone else’s approval, because you can very easily lose yourself and forget who you truly are. Never be a chameleon, like the character Julia Roberts played in the film ‘Runaway Bride’. Always be true to yourself and who you are and if someone truly cares about you, they will be honest.
Sunday 27th July
Sundays are days off at the retreat! I was very grateful to have a sleep in for a change. Since the end of the Academic year, I’ve been on the go, and a slower pace, even just for a day was nice.
What would I do with myself for a whole day in a place where I can’t speak the language? sleep? naaa! The sun is shining and the air is clean! I should fill my lungs up with as much of it as possible while I have the chance. But before I decide, first order of business is; breakfast!! I dressed hastily, made sure I had everything I needed in my hand bag and my camera, so that I wouldn’t have to come back to the room if I decided to head straight out.
By now, I knew what the nutritionist had planned for my breakfast off by heart; a glass of fresh juice, a slice of toast, cottage cheese, a slice of Emmantal cheese, 2 small 50 gm triangles of processed cheese, 2 boiled eggs, yogurt and a bowl of oats. Meh! is right! It is quite bland to the palette and doesn’t sound or look anywhere near as appetizing as the croissants, slices of tea cake, fresh pineapple, scrambled or boiled eggs, BUT I am here for the purpose to drop my weight and to clean my insides of a decade worth of poisonous crap that I had consumed, so I will suck it up! It’s amazing how a little dash of pepper and salt can change how food tastes!
Just before I was done Rana walked into the restaurant with her father. I went up to greet them both, she was very surprised to receive the little box of chocolates that I had left, “shoo hay, wahdi be wahdi’ , she said in her strong Lebanese accent, s “what’s this? one for one.” I told her it was a simple thank you gesture for giving me something I loved so much. “I want to see you in Beirut next time. I’ll send you my contacts so you can call me next time you come.” I promised the next time, I was there I would most certainly contact her. I wished her and her father both safe travels in case I didn’t see them before they both left.
After breakfast I went in search of the small travel agency (again), that organizes short trips to neighboring cities both in Slovakia and countries close to its borders. I followed my mother’s description to the letter and I couldn’t find it. I was slightly perplexed about it but I decided to continue on with my stroll and worry about it later. As I walked the island and saw the other hotels that shared the area, It was without a shadow of a doubt that I had booked into the jackpot! The other hotels were of modern architecture and from what I could see they didn’t give off as bright and relaxing ambiance com as Thermia Palace. I’m sure the service is good, there too, but I like the places I stay in to look cheerful both inside and out. I snapped a few pictures along my walk and kept a look out for where I might be able to rent a bike for the hour or for the day.
The thought of riding a bike was exciting as well as Terrifying! Since moving to Egypt in the early 1990’s I haven’t ridden one. I was genuinely worried that I had forgotten how to and that I would fall and that would be the end of my holiday and I’d spend the rest of it all bandaged up like a mummy! When I last rode a bike the world wasn’t as safety conscious either, I didn’t want to violate any rules or collide into another biker, pedestrian or car. So, I also took a mental note of where the bike lanes were, so if I ever did find a bike to rent, I had some idea of where I could ride.
I had no such luck, so I went back to the hotel after a lengthy walk and decided to check in with my family. As I was about to go up to my room, I bumped into Rana again. I stood chatting with her and her father, and was then introduced to 3 more Lebanese gents who live and own a travel agency here. Rana introduced me to Farag and said, ‘This is Nadia, she’s a lovely girl, please keep an eye on her. Nadia, Farag is a very old and good friend of mine, if you need anything please don’t hesitate to ask him.” It’s moments like these when you see the true spirit of the people from the Middle East, hospitable, helpful and generous. The media has plagued their image with false assumptions that we are all blood thirsty born killers, who have only thoughts of terrorism on our mind. It was very nice to see abroad as well as back in the region. Once they left and we said our final goodbyes, I went up to my room and sent my mom pictures of the area she had described and asked her to pin point exactly where the travel agent was supposed to be. After a lengthy discussion it turned out I had walked by the place quite a few times! So, once we had ended the conversation I headed back downstairs to check it out.
I headed down stairs and went directly to the place, my mother had described only, only to find a tiny note pad size piece of paper stuck to the window, that said they had relocated. I took a picture of the new address and asked the reception at the hotel. They informed me that it was on the bridge to the left of the hotel but would be closed on a Sunday. I asked if they knew of anywhere else I could rent a bicycle and I was told the hotel Balnea Esplenada rents them. They called the hotel for me and made sure that they had bikes available for me.
I walk to the hotel and went to the reception. I thought I had been transported back to Cairo and began to panic. The place reminded me a lot of the Intercontinental- Semiramis Hotel, near Tahrir Square. It was a modern architectural structure, with black tiled floors, tan colored leathers seats in the reception area and full of Gulfies.
(Yeah, I’m definitely staying at the classiest joint on the island! Phew!)
At the reception I gave my name, and the room key card holder with the details of how long I’m staying at Thermia Palace and room number. To rent the bike, it’s 5 Euros for 4 hours. Once all the details were taken and I paid cash, rather than have it charged to my room, I was taken a long, a long corridor to where the bikes are kept. I chose one, adjusted the seat, took the key for the bike lock and went on my merry way.
At first, I had forgotten, how one should actually start to peddle. So, I had one foot on a peddle and the other was pushing along the ground, like you would a scooter. Eventually, I got both feet up on to the peddles and I started to move forward, holding on to the handle bars for dear life, as I wobbled from side to side, like a drunk! I eventually found my equilibrium and was riding the bike! I rode along the bikers path along the river banks, the more I rode the more confident I became. By lunch time my thighs, abs and my butt cheeks were in agony. In addition to that I was famished. I headed back to the hotel, parked the bike outside, inhaled my lunch and was soon out again.
I rode for another hour, until the sky turned a gloomy dark color. I rode the bike back to Esplenada, took it to where I had been told to leave it when I was done and locked it, turned the key into the reception AND the heavens opened with a loud CRACK of thunder and a whip of lightening flashed across the sky!
Monday 28th July
I love walking! I find that I see more and learn more about a place and it’s people, when I’m on foot. On Saturdays, I join a small group of photography enthusiasts who, walk around areas of Cairo to take pictures. I enjoy it a great deal, not only because I take pictures, but I get to walk and see some of my ‘real’ countrymen/women going about their day to day lives.
First on the agenda for today is Nordic Walking.
All I knew is that it involved sticks and walking (obviously)! After a very quick breakfast, I went to the spa building Irma, as it stated on the paper to await the person who would be leading the group of people on the walk. I was greeted by a tall blond, blue eyed, fit young man called Jan (pronounced Yaan). In fairly good English he informed me that he would be leading the walk and it looked like I would be the only one participating. He adjusted the length of the sticks, showed me how to strap them on to my hands. I thought I looked like a marionette or some kind of shadow puppet. which then queued the ‘Pinocchio’ song ‘I’ve got no strings’!
The sticks took some getting used to. Jan told me to have the arm go with the opposite leg and to not focus on it, otherwise I would trip myself up. He was right the less I thought about them the better I was at walking with them. I asked him questions about what life is like living in Slovakia and how he got into fitness to distract my mind from the sticks. We walked a circuit for about 20-30 minutes at a fairly quick pace. It was great cardio and my lungs appreciated inhaling the fresh morning air.
Once done, I ran to my room to get ready for my other sessions… I had a fairly easy day, I only had 4 sessions. An hour after the walk I got into my robe, because second on the agenda was the mud pack. An experience that takes some getting used to at first. I don’t mind having the warm mud slathered on my bare skin and being wrapped up like a shawerma. It’s trying to get the mud off in the shower! No matter how thorough, I try to be, I always end up missing some! The Mud pack was closely followed by my Electro Magnetic treatment for my back , where I was greeted by the ever so lovely and very friendly and kind Elena. A middle aged Slovakian woman, with short hair and kind eyes and face.
My last treatment wasn’t till later in the afternoon, so I went for a long walk around the town, discovering new areas and just taking in the scenery and architecture, stopping every now and then to take pictures with my phone. I also went to the mall to get some long sleaved tops. I had only packed short sleeved t-shirts and if the forecast predicted rain for the week, I would need something warmer to wear. , (Another excuse to shop and spend money! Why not! I’m helping the economy, well at least that’s what I tell myself 😉
I was looking forward to my work out class GG Slim, last time we bounced around and exercised on balls! This time we had a different instructor, who looked a lot like Rhald Dhals character, the Trunchbull from his book ‘Matilda’. A medium height, square looking blond Russian woman, with knee length shorts, socks half way up her calf, white nurse like shoes and her hair tightly tied back. One look at her and I knew this would be one session where my muscles would be so soar by the end of them that if they could scream mercy, they would. Even the Saudi woman taking the class with me, looked as though she was scanning for an escape route. “Laa Laa Laa, mu hathi, Wahda thanya”, which in Gulf Arabic translates to “No, No, No, not this one, another one!”
We both took a deep breath and did as we were instructed. We got our mats, lay them on the floor and did what reminded me of the early 80’s Jane Fonda work out, minus the music! We did all sorts of stretching, lifting of arms and legs and stomach crunches. I could felt my muscles wince in pain, as I pushed myself to the exercises, while reminding myself, this is why I am here, to get fitter, thinner and healthier! Without any pain, there will be no gain!
By the time the session was over, I was exhausted and the Saudi woman was panting and gasping for air. I thanked the woman for the session, took my card and went to my room to change and go for another walk around the premises before dinner.
After dinner I went back up to my room and sat down and began writing part I to my experience at Thermia Palace.
I got so carried away with what I was writing that I lost track of time. I had been asked by one of the Egyptian women, Su, whom I had met on my first night in Piestany and had kept an eye open for me everyday to see how I was getting along asked me earlier on in the day, to make sure that I spent some time with her and her friends later on in the evening. Su and her husband were due to depart the next morning to head home back to Egypt after spending a month at Thermia Palace. I was very fortunate to find them all still sat around the round table that they had reserved for tonight. When I walked in I was greeted warmly by all those who were there. I was invited to sit and take part in the on going discussion. I was the youngest person at the table, sat among two doctors, an ambassador and 3 other highly intellectual individuals of 3 different faiths. It was while we sat and talked and exchanged contact information, I had a ‘moment’… ‘I am sat at a round table, with Christians, Muslims and Jews, there is no conflict or hate, just people.’ How poignant and more symbolic could that moment have been? If only the media, would stop fueling the hate and showing more moments like this.
Tuesday 29th July
It was another very early start to the day kicking it off with Nordic Walking. I fared much , better today and I was able to keep up more. The time seemed to just fly by. I felt cheated and would have gladly done the circuit once more. Since my arrival, I had been trying to figure out where the gym was. In the end I just asked Jan, where it was, since he was the fitness instructor. He showed me which door I had to go through and which corridor, I needed to walk along. The place is like Hogwarts (less like a gloomy castle thought), more like a maze! There are so many doors and corridors, that it’s easy to lose your way. (Now that I had an idea of where it was, I would definitely make an effort to use it (I hope!).
The rest of the day, was spent between Irma and the Napoleon III and 1B buildings. Bustling about across a courtyard between buildings with a gym bag and flip flops in a robe can be a workout in itself I tell you! It was a busy day, with Electro treatments, Parafango, Water gymnastics, Mirror pool and 20′ Massage.
The water gymnastics was lead by the Trunchbull! It wasn’t the usual red headed lady with a somewhat cheerful air about her. The members of the class looked worried. I related to their fear. There’s one thing to do those exercises on a mat on a floor, but in a pool? I hoped I wouldn’t drown!
The class went pretty well to tell the truth, the water created resistance and I felt like I had worked a lot of my muscles, especially my upper body. From there I showered off, changed into my robe to make my way across the court yard yet again to Irma, to take a much needed 20 minute dip in the warm sulfuric water of the Mirror Pool.
I usually shy away from getting naked. I don’t even like looking at myself with no clothes on. I’m fine when I’m looking at myself from the collarbone up, because when I look below that’s when I see all my faults and areas of imperfection that are so loudly pointed out and dictated to us by the media. So, I was genuinely quite surprised at how well I was adjusting to the numerous of times I had to bare-all and be in the presence of other women too. (I wondered what Freud, would have to say about that?)
In an odd way it was starting to feel more natural. When that thought crossed my mind, I even shocked myself! One of the many outspoken voices in my head, piped up; “More natural! Have you lost your mind girl? Next thing, you’ll be thinking about how cavemen or tribes people in the Rain forests of South America, are more civilized than we are, and we are over complicating life! The sulfur must have gone to your head!” I’m not saying, I’m by any means ready to give up my wardrobe or start vacationing at nude beaches or becoming a nudist. What I am trying to say, that perhaps we have been going about things the wrong way. There is a lot of shame that is brought on to those that don’t have a certain figure or that breaks the mold shall we say. A bodies shouldn’t be ‘a one size suites all’ mentality. If you look at the statues of women from the time of Ancient Greece or Rome or portraits from the Renaissance, women were not stick thin, they were busty, voluptuous and curvy. Why is it in the past few decades that perception of beauty has changed?
Three years ago, I wanted to have a body like Megan Fox. I won’t be hypocrite, I’m not going to lie about it. Having been here less than a week, my perception of beauty is changing. When I’m out walking and riding a bicycle, I see people who are healthy, active and they come in all shapes and sizes. So, my goal now is not to go back to Cairo looking like runway model, but to be a healthier person, who is comfortable in her own skin. I don’t want to get down to a size 4, I’ll be content if I can make it to a healthy 10/12. There’s nothing wrong with that!
Stay tuned for part III
Last Thursday, I was graciously invited among many other Irish nationals living here in Egypt and friends of Ireland to attend the Irish Embassy’s St. Patrick’s Day party at the Le Meridian Pyramids Hotel that has a view of the great pharaonic structures, for the ‘Greening’ of the Pyramids. I sign to symbolize friendship between the two nations.
Along with the invitation was an incredible and very unbelievable rate to stay the night at the hotel and have breakfast included for less that 650LE. (that is a bargain!)
The thought of battling traffic to get there and then having to do it again once the party was over did not appeal to me in the least. I RSVPed that I would be in attendance and I also booked a room, (every girl deserves to be pampered every now and then, especially after having suffered from a week-long of sinusitis. Wouldn’t you agree ;).
Thursday evening I arrive with time to spare, checking in took less than five minutes. I was upgraded to deluxe suit overlooking the pool and Pyramids (not bad)! I had enough time to freshen up and get myself ready for an evening of socializing and culture.
When I left my room to make my way to the reception the usual bustle, friendly hum of conversation was noticeably absent once i reached the lobby. When I walked through the restaurant to the area by the pool where the event was being held. The clinking of silver ware and appetizing aroma of meals being cooked was barely noticeable.
The evening was better than I had expected. I met many interesting people of various occupations, I heard Irish musicians who collaborated and were accompanied by 3 bedouin musicians, Irish tunes filled air with a twist of Middle Eastern beats and rhythms, there was a buffet of Irish cheese along with other delicacies and of course a bar stocked with my favorite rich in iron beverage, Guinness!
The following morning I awoke to a very empty and quiet hotel. The restaurant was only a fraction full with a minimal number of tourists and the usual breakfast rush, clattering of plates, shouts of chefs and waiters running around was absent. The pool on a hot sunny day was not in use, there were no squeals of children splashing around or occupied sunbeds. This was indeed a sad sight, it was heartbreaking to see how badly tourism and hotels are suffering.
You can’t help but wonder, why the leader along with politicians are not trying to make more of an effort to bring back the tourists. Why aren’t they taking a step to trying to make the nation a safer place for foreign nations to give their nationals the green light to come back to see our wonders and treasures.
If we can’t make the tourists come back, what are we going to do?
(Winne the Pooh moment, think, think, think)
Here’s a thought, just off the top of my head, Why don’t WE support our industry?
How many of you can honestly say that you have gone to see the attractions that our great nation has?
We need to support our country and the industry by discovering our country.
With discovering our nation, we might be able to instil pride and patriotism of the highest degree!
So what do you say?
Ready to book a trip?
I am.
Egypt has an abundance of doctors of all specialties! Like Pharmacies you can find a doctor’s clinic almost on every block! They are everywhere!
I always find it amusing how some of my fellow Egyptian’s who live in places like the Emirates, Europe and North America will not have lazic eye surgery or their dental work done until they come to Egypt for an extended visit. It isn’t because the doctors here are any better than the ones abroad, it’s because the amount you would pay for simple surgeries or checkups is cheaper here in Egypt than it is other countries.
However, if MAJOR surgery is needed then those who can afford to go abroad, will pay the hefty bill without hesitation. One of the main reasons is because the aftercare (nursing) here is appalling to say the least. Their skills are lacking in more ways than one and I wouldn’t trust most of them to care of a pet cat.
I have to be totally honest, there are a great number of doctors in this country who are phenomenal and are excellent in their line of work! They are very well-trained and knowledgeable in their field of expertise. Then you have those who aren’t as good as the others and often times misdiagnosed patience.
After returning from my summer vacation I had noticed that I had been getting sharp pains in my right him and my Achilles tendons were causing me pain as well. I went to an Orthopedic Surgeon and gave him all the details I possibly could. He gave be the basic examination and asked me to get an x-ray and a blood test. Neither showed anything serious thank goodness and I was told I only needed to take Vitamin B-12 shots for the hip and for my Achilles he advised me not to walk barefoot anymore and to always wear slippers. So, not having a medical degree myself, I did as I had been advised and the pain in the hip subsided for a while but my Achilles tendons were still hurting.
A month later, the pain came back with a vengeance and that’s when I decided that I would go for a second opinion. The second doctor asked me to get an x-ray, MRI and blood test. I did as I was told and came back with the results to be told that I had ‘Gout’ (high Uric Acid levels). Gout is a strand of arthritis and it’s hereditary. I didn’t think that the diagnosis could be wrong because my mother has it and a cousin has another form of arthritis. I did find it weird that I had it considering I don’t eat or drink most of the food that would cause Uric Acid levels to spike. So, I did my homework and researched how I can improve my way of living and what are all the foods I should avoid eating and what I shouldn’t eat during an attack. I quickly came to terms that I would be living with this for the rest of my life and started to rethink the activities I took part in. I was very upset that I had to pass on trying out and joining the Women’s CaiRoller Derby Team, because it would be too much strain on my joints. It also meant that Operation Megan Fox would have to be put on hold too (my goal to losing the kilos I had piled on to reach my goal weight). I watched what I ate and tried to exercise, but there were times when the pain was excruciating and wished for amputation.
Every Christmas I send a lengthy annual news letter to family and friends abroad filling them in on my news and adventures and my diagnosis was included in it. An old High School friend who has a strong medical background in diseases contacted me and asked me a series of questions about my diagnosis and strongly suggested I go to a Rheumatologist to get a more concrete answer about my Gout Arthritis. I had nothing to lose, so I asked friends to help me find a really good doctor and I have to say that they really came through for me! I somehow got an appointment with one of the TOP Rheumatologists in Egypt/Region, which is almost impossible; the waiting list to get an appointment is usually a few months!
The day of my appointment I went with all my tests, x-rays and MRIs for him to see and I gave a very detailed history of ailments as well as family history, which was recorded by the assisting doctor. He did a basic examination until the doctor came in. When THE doctor came in, he read over the details and asked for further details. As he read and I spoke you could see his mind at work making a list of possible diagnoses and with the answers you could see him mentally illuminate them too. He then put me through a series of tests and twisted my limbs in all directions making me feel like a human pretzel. Once he had pin pointed where the pain was coming from, he then checked all the x-rays, blood test results and MRI scans I had brought with me. I felt like I was sitting in the presence of the medical version of Sherlock Holmes and his trusty partner Dr. Watson. When he was done, he put my mind at ease and told me that I have nothing serious and that I did NOT have Gout or show any signs of getting it any time soon! (PHEW!!) What I did have was an old untreated injury to the hip and mild tendonitis of the Achilles heels and I needed to take anti inflammatory pills for a month as well as 1 months of physio- therapy and to come back for a checkup in 2 months time.
It took 6 months and 3 doctors to figure out what was wrong with me! I am among the lucky ones, some people don’t find out until years later, or never do. My mother is one of them, for eight years she had been suffering from back pain and was told it was a slipped disc. She wasn’t convinced and went to other doctors and did her own research until she discovered she was suffering from sacroiliac and a hip problem. For 3 years she was told she didn’t need hip replacement until she self diagnosed herself again and insisted on going to another doctor and found out she needed immediate hip replacement because she had not only worn away the ligament but the ball of the joint by 3cm, so she had one leg shorter than the other.
I guess the moral of the story is, sometimes you find the needle in the hay stack and get the correct diagnosis of the bat, other times you have to keep going back for second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth opinions until your instincts tell you not to look any further. It’s a gamble !
Three weeks after visiting the rheumatologist, I can honestly say that I do feel better. I am able to Zumba and Belly dance with little pain. I have been going to physio for just under a month and my Achilles is feeling better, but my hip is still aggrivating me. I am optimistic!
My second or third year in Egypt I can clearly remember answering the phone at home. The person who answered the phone didn’t ask to speak to anyone; they didn’t identify themselves they just started talking in a very serious and angry tone.
“Tell the Doctor, that he better pay what he owes or we are going to take his children.”
(Translated from Arabic)
I remember how scared I was when I heard the threat. I immediately went and relayed what I had heard on the phone to my grandmother and then had to retell it to both my parents. All of whom reassured me that my Dad didn’t owe anyone any money. The thread did seem rather odd because although my family live comfortably we are of no importance in society. Why threaten us? My father wasted no time in going and talking to every shop owner and vendor on both sides of our street from the beginning of the road right to the end, telling them to keep an eye out for his daughters as they walked to and from school every morning and not to allow any stranger to come near us. At that time, there was still a chivalrous code among men, where men would gladly come to the aid of a fellow citizen, neighbor, acquaintance or friend in their hour or moment of need. The code unfortunately seems to have not been taught to the younger generations and will soon be forgotten.
In 1996 Mel Gibson and Rene Russo stared in the thriller ‘Ransom’, where Gibson, a successful business man, his son is kidnapped and held for ransom. I remember watching that movie and thinking how I doubt I could ever be able to understand the terror a kid must go through in a situation like that or the long process of recovery that would follow afterwards. It never occurred to me that the horrors of that movie would become a reality to many affluent families here in Egypt.
I can’t give a comparison of numbers or statistics pre and post revolution of kidnapping threats, kidnapping attempts and actual kidnappings. What I can confirm is that THEY ARE happening.
After the revolution school buses were targeted and attacked by gangs. Going to work became a terrifying experience because you never knew if your bus would be the one that they decided to attack early in the morning as you made your way to school.
Monday, February 18th 2013 two sisters left their house early in the morning in Alexandria to go to school. They are from a well off family but they are not as wealthy as some of the other students they attend school with. They were ambushed by men armed with knives. The men got into the car with them and had the driver drive them to a place in Alexandria where they had another vehicle waiting. The men tried taking both girls, but the eldest sister put up such a resistance that they opted to take the younger one and sped away out of the city, leaving the sister and driver behind.
The kidnappers had the 13-year-old girl call her family to let them know they she was alive and well and gave the ransom demand of two million Egyptian pounds for her safe return.
The horror, worry and powerlessness that this family went through can’t ever be accurately put into words or imagined by another individual who hasn’t experienced the same thing. Every second, minute, hour and day that passed would have had anyone sick with agony. Those who knew the girls or the family in any way, (myself included), were gutted by the news, our hearts ached for the family and our prayers were with all of them, hoping and wishing for her safe return home.
Meanwhile, the police had suspected the driver and he had been taken in for questioning. Needless to say, their tactics whatever they might have been proved successful. He confessed to initiating the kidnapping and gave the police the address of where the young girl was being held captive. At around 9 PM on Wednesday February 20th, the police escorted the young girl back home. When she arrived all the children who knew her were standing outside her building on cars cheering and celebrating her safe return.
Fortunately for this family the ending to their terrible ordeal was a happy one.
This is just ONE of MANY incidents that are happening here in Egypt and it seems that nine times out of ten that it’s an inside job. A driver, the nanny, hired help or someone who works in the family business. Parents do not know who to trust, because the loyalty that once existed with the hired help is a thing of the past, it has been replaced by greed, resentment and jealousy.
One parent from Alexandria was discussing with me on twitter, if he should consider hiring bodyguards to take his child eight year old son to and from school. I have seen some left no choice but to resort to this because of threats made to take their children. The more I think about the idea of hiring bodyguards the more it feels like we are living the lives of the Columbian drug cartel!
It is VERY disturbing to think that Egypt has fallen so far and so quickly in only two years! One only dreads to think what other dangers will be fall us in the months, years to come.
In the very early hours of Sunday morning my sister and her husband arrived from England for their annual two-week visit to Egypt to visit family and friends. During their stay, I though I would make their lives a little easier by lending them my car to help them get about in Alexandria as well as Cairo rather than relying on people for rides or public transportation. While I was at work they made their way to Alexandria to spend their first week there.
At around 11:30 pm I was awoken from my slumber to the sound of my blackberry ringing and a illuminated screen with a name across the screen. I would usually ignore any calls while I’m getting my rest, but I found it odd that my sister would be ringing at such an hour. When I answered I could sense that she was in no mood for pleasantries and wanted to get straight to the point. “Hi, did you have anything of value in the car?” Having just woken up unexpectedly, my brain got another jolt! (thinking to myself) ‘Why would she be asking me such a question at this time of night???? (brain kicks into gear) unless ‘…) “No, nothing of value, just change in coins and my CDs, WHY?” I ask waiting to her the answer I already knew. “Someone broke into your car by smashing the passenger window and stole both license plates off your car and the car emblems, nothing appears to be stolen from inside, we are on our way to the Police Station to report it now.”
Upon hearing news like this, you would have expected me to have had more of reaction, but I took it really well and had no trouble going back to sleep. When I woke the next morning the memory of the conversation came crashing down on me like a tidal wave! License plates stolen, window broken …WTH!? Thoughts of the pains taking task that lay ahead to get the report stamped with the Egyptian Police seal, to go to the Traffic headquarters to get all the papers needed to replace the stolen plates with new ones and reissue a new car license with the new plate numbers on is worse than registering a newly bought car!! Then thoughts of my sister and her husband came to mind. They hadn’t been in the country 24 hours and this happens to them? Geez! That is not the way to start your vacation.
After work I called my Mom who gave me an update on the situation. She said it took my sister and her hubby a while to file the report and they didn’t get home till after 1am. She and my Dad (God Bless Them) got up at 8am to begin procedures to replace the plates and issue a new car license as well as running other errands in the scortching heat.
It turns out, my sister had arranged to meet a lot of her friends at the Greek Club by the tram in Alexandria the evening of her first day there. She had parked on the tram side of the street next to the club, which is where she has always parked pre and post revolution. While they were inside catching up with their friends the security guard came in and told one of the regulars that there was a space in front of the club for him to move his car too. Jokingly my sister said ‘What it’s not safe to park by the side of the club anymore?’ The security guard and friends said that is wasnt. The guard said he’d go and look and see if there was a place for her to move her car to, not long after going out to check he returned and informed the owner of the restaurant in the club that my car had been targeted. Apparently that area is watched by a gang of window smashing, plate stealing jerks!
Earlier that day, my sister’s friends had gone to Cairo and the very same thing had happened to them. Passenger window broke, plates stolen, but their car was taken, but later found with the wires dangeling down from the dashboard, (it had been hot wired) and quite a few items stolen from inside the car.
The reason the gang choose to smash the passenger window is because many people keep the car license in the car’s glove compartment. The license plates are taken to put on other cars transporting drugs and if caught, the plates won’t be traced back to them but to the owner of the car they stole the plates from! God forbid if the same should ever happen to you, report it immediately because if you don’t you’ll be held liable for any crime the plates have been involved in. Secondly do not leave your car license in your vehicle, because if you do and they take it, well they have evidence of owner ship and could sell it or find some other use for it.
I am very grateful that my sister and brother-in-law were not harmed in any way and that the car wasn’t stolen. I am also very grateful to them and my Dad for taking car of all the legal procedures in my absence and getting it all done.
Let this be a warning to you out there, be careful where you park the car. Try and avoid poorly lit streets.
Since the Revolution the crime rate appears to have risen drastically. Crimes like these occurred during the Mubarak rule, but they wouldn’t be as frequent because thieves knew what the consequences would be if they were ever to get caught. Now, it’s like a popular past time or accepted profession!