Ohmmmm

There is something so delicious about sitting in a weird internet cafe in the late evening, with the hum of cicadas and the crashing of waves outside, writing a blog in the light of severely unflattering strip lighting, while slightly worrying about getting eaten to near-death by mosquitos. I am having flashbacks to India 2006 and it is not remotely unpleasant.

Anyway. Namaste. I am deeply content. The Egyptian experience has, thus far, been entirely devoid of unpleasantness. My Easyjet flight was on time, I was one of the last people to board the plane but managed to sit in the front row on the aisle, the seat I would have chosen if I'd been given an entirely empty aircraft from which to choose. I fell asleep before take-off and awoke twice for a matter of moments before landing. I wafted zenlike into the arrivals hall, filled in a swine flu awareness form as I wandered along, was the first into the empty baggage reclaim, received my luggage quickly, my trolley was uniquely happy to move directly forwards, I found my driver holding my name aloft in a clearly typed font, the transfer to my hotel was smooth and fun, I persuasively argued with my American lift-sharing companion that joining the US military was not perhaps the most constructive method of guaranteeing peace for her compatriots in future, I found my room at the hotel to be clean, I appreciated the towels folded into swan formations on my bed, the air conditioning worked, my tuna salad eaten downstairs under the stars was tasty, my book continued to be gripping and my sleep was easy.

Today made yesterday look like a nightmare, so uninterruptedly perfect was it. I awoke on time and wafted (again) to the yoga room, which is built into a mountain and is therefore cool and quiet. I discovered that I am currently the only person at the hotel booked into the yoga class, so I am having personal, one-on-one classes with the seriously nice Anne for the next few days. I feel a bit like Madonna, although with more pronounced bingo wings. Anne is 37, very pretty, an only child and moved here from Balham, South-East London, about a year ago. On first glance, her lifestyle is faintly intoxicating. After yoga, I breakfasted in the shade on yoghurt and honey, washed down with green tea, and then wafted in the most self-satisfied fashion possible up to my room, feeling a picture of calm. I donned my bikini and my factor 50, and made my way up to the gorgeous pool, deserted for at least the first two hours of my lying around phase today, surrounded by beautiful wooden loungers and comfortable striped cushions. Just in case I wasn't smug enough already, I did 100 lengths, reapplied the Piz Buin, and then arrayed myself horizontally on the pole position lounger, from which I barely moved until late afternoon, sitting up once to eat delicious falafel, and standing once to swim and talk to other friendly guests. At 5pm I was back in the yoga studio for my second class of the day, followed by a shower and aftersun application before walking along the beach to Dahab town centre, which is reminding me of wherever it was that Simon and I stayed in Kerala, and I'd probably be a bit more charmed by it if I hadn't witnessed similar tourist places before. It's about 60% building site, 35% rip-off and 5% genuinely laid-back cool, with some fantastic lounges on the beach, cushions for your ass and bench backs made of felled palm-trees covered in thick rag-rugs. The beer is flowing, the people are friendly, the music is cheesy and all is well. I smirked irritatingly at the newly-constructed house I saw on the walk here, which had a carefully painted sign outside declaring it was 'For Seal'. Nice idea, but I'm not sure he'd want it, given that it was monstrous and, I suspected, unfinished, although it was difficult to be certain. I've had a delicious meal of chicken kebab and rice, and I'm now about to head back to the ranch for urgently needed R'n'R after my panic-filled day. More when anything happens. Apparently it's pouring with rain back home. Gloat.