Sharm El Sheikh, Red Sea Resort

Sharm el Sheikh, sandwiched between the desert of the Sinai Peninsula and the Red Sea is my second visit to Egypt (flying in via Cairo). But now I'm in Asian Egypt.

Sharm (as it's known) was historically a fishing town and naval base, but was developed into a commercial and tourist-centric city, in 1968, by the Israelis, who had first captured Sinai during the Suez Crisis of 1956. It was returned to Egypt in 1957, but policed by a United Nations peacekeeping force, until 1967, when it was ordered to leave by Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, That precipitated the Six-Day War, during which it was reoccupied by Israel. Sharm El Sheikh remained under Israeli control from 1967, until the Sinai Peninsula was returned to Egypt in 1982, after the signing of the Camp David Accords. Egypt continued and expanded the development, promoting Sharm El Sheikh as a major international resort city.

Naama Bay, is beyond touristy, with its all inclusive hotels, palm tree-lined promenade, shisha bars and kebab restaurants. Camel rides, quad bikes and desert adventures galore. But I've come for the snorkelling. Ras Muhammad National Park delivers here - these are amongst the most famous reefs in the world. We take out a boat, (and see dolphins) but there is really excellent snorkelling, just off the beach. There's a huge drop off at El Fanar (Lighthouse) Beach, though, sadly you have to walk over the coral to get to it. The water is surprisingly chilly, though it is February.

And a day trip revisiting Luxor too.

Journey to Hurghada - and a Scam

On my third visit to Egypt I'm back to the Red Sea again. Today, I have a minibus, driver and guide, all to myself, as we navigate the agricultural road, from Luxor, north alongside the Nile and then turn off across the Eastern Desert to Hurghada. More flat and rubbly terrain followed by ochre hills and then stark and pointy mountains, to the Red Sea.

It’s my turn to be scammed. We stop at a roadside café which already feels quite hassly. Pushy clothes vendors and 150 Egyptian pounds for a coca cola (same as the Valley of the Kings), when you can buy one for 15 pounds from the small shops in town. Then a guy asks me to give him a ten pound note in exchange for ten pound coins. He gives me some garbled story about acquiring them from a family, which doesn’t make sense at all. But the currency looks genuine and I agree to help. He lines up 10 coins on the counter top and I hand over my note. He now demands that I change 30, but I decline and he pouts and sulks. Something doesn’t feel right to me, but I’m unsure what.

Another man approaches, offering me ten single USD bills, making the same request. This seems odder and is refused more firmly. The bank will take single notes. Only then do I check my purse. There are only 8 pound coins in it. The wily so and so has slipped two off the back, as he slid them into my purse. He must be doing pretty well if he carries out that trick several times a day. Fortunately, the guide goes and demands my two pounds back and all is well.

Hurghada, Red Sea Resort

Hurghada reminds me of Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. It evolved from a fishing village, and  has no real centre. Forty  odd kilometres  of resorts lining the coast, all divided from each other, and with private beaches. The Marriott beach is compact, to say the least. The swimming pool is large, the sea is sapphire, prettily broken up with sandbanks and there are maybe 50 motor yachts moored up, just off shore. These are mainly live-aboards for diving trips. I’m told there are about 200 of those operating out of Hurghada. The other ships are for day trips, or smaller vessels towing shrieking thrill-seeking tourists, precariously balanced on banana boats and tyres.

But there’s no reef just off the beach here, as at Sharm. I charter a boat with a captain and snorkel guide. for a couple of hours. They’re superbly attentive (notwithstanding the prominently placed tips box). The captain even folds the heels of my fins down, so that they will slip on easily. Some unexciting glass bottom viewing and a wade on the sand banks. But the reef, as you would expect, is worth seeing.

After catapulting in (the early May water still chilly, until I start moving), we kick slowly  all down the shallow side, admiring plenty of living and brightly lush coral. Shoals of fluorescent  small fish contrast nicely with the coral branches, hiding under the fans and shooting off in all directions, as we approach. The odd diminutive but vibrant clam. Nothing large but plenty to admire. It’s so nice I book the boat again for tomorrow. A different reef, with a 20 metre drop off, the coral a little more damaged, but more varieties of luminescent fish tootling about. Grouper, parrot fish, tans, puffer fish and three wriggling baby rays.

My room has a lovely sea view and it’s all very pleasant, except for the bills which feature service charge and a space for a tip too. One of the waiters at the poolside bar refuses to serve me anything to eat. He says he hasn’t got any help and he’s hidden the food menu. I apply pressure and it appears. But this is not the way to earn those additional tips. No-one comes out of this situation feeling happy. Unless maybe you’re American.

I’m eschewing the beach, despite the nice views. Far too many sunbeds crammed onto the sand. So, it’s mostly by the swimming pool. There’s only one yelling baby. On Day Two I venture out, over the bridge, from the main beach to another small sandy area and café with patio. It’s a mistake. This is entertainment team HQ and they’re soon encouraging sweaty sunbathers to participate in a dance class. Back to the pool.

Hurghada Airport

Time to depart my third visit to Egypt. It's not one of Egypt's finest times. This only five years old airport seems designed for maximum frustration. Queue to enter airport and show ticket. Queue to have baggage screened and body searched. Queue to drop bags. Queue at passport control. Queue to have carry-on scanned (again) and be body searched (again). Get to front of queue to be told that this line is for men only and have to go right back to end of adjacent female queue, as none of the women will let me in front of them. Queue for refreshment and am served ridiculously sweet mousse. Have to wait on EasyJet plane, whilst ill passenger is disembarked and his luggage found. At least it makes me happier to be going home.

And read more about Egypt, the country today and its history and mythology here.