Hurghada to Abu Dabbab

23 April

1:11am in the morning, I wake to a knock at the door. I pretend not to hear it. More knocking. My heart races. What if it’s that guy on reception tonight who I declined lunch with?? All I have as a weapon is a water bottle and the only thing that’s a real threat to, is the environment. Think it’s time I got a dive knife… for more than diving.

Midday checkout rolls around. There are no bus/coaches going to Marsa Alam or Abu Dabbab, taxi is expensive, transfer is more expensive again. The non creepy guy at reception provides me with another option; local bus. Off I go to get a taxi to the “local” bus stop, oversized backpack strapped to my body… I have a few thoughts… One, the backpack feels like wearing a full bcd, tank and weight belt. The second thought… imagine if we carried babies on our backs during pregnancy? Real thought provoking walk this one is.

Pushing on, more thoughts and revelations. Right now, I’m searching for a taxi… big picture, I’m searching for something with meaning, something bigger than I am… if there is such a thing… a cause, a crusade… maybe even a companion? :/

My taxi drives to the outskirts of Hurghada. The local bus station looks more like a second hand car meet where cars are parked in dusty concrete cubicles… So, picture what Fast n the Furious 50 years ago would’ve been like… but in India. The local bus appears to be more of a ride share situation. The “bus” is an antique Purgeot Wagon, sporting three bench seats covered in original mustard shag and the ability to reach 80kms an hour if needed (hopefully).

Many road signs are in Arabic. Only trouble is I can’t speak, write, let alone read Arabic… Language barriers, no wifi and no idea exactly where I am. A real Mad Max meets Fear and Loathing vibe driving down the desert highway.

I’m beginning to think I don’t go on holidays… I go on adventures.

One of the men in the second local “bus” tells me to get out after an hour or so ,and instructs me to walk down a dirt road off the highway, to my destination. Alone, at dusk, walking down a road, desert to my left, a mosque and a beach to my right, here I am, stuck in the middle of Abu Dabbab.

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