I have returned from two fabulous weeks in Sharm El Sheikh, on the Red Sea, in the South Sinai area. We had intended it to be two weeks lying in the sun, but it turned out to be a very enjoyable and memorable holiday. Over the next few days and weeks I will publish a day-by-day account, but just for now I shall tell you about what was ultimately one of the more trivial incidents of the holiday.
We were on an aeroplane flying back from a day trip to Cairo. It had been a long day: we had got up some fifteen hours ago and we were tired. Although the plane was full, mainly with Russians, there was just a small party from our, and associated, travel company: two Austrians, two Dutch, and nine Brits. We had agreed that we would not dawdle when the plane landed, so we could return to our hotels pronto.
The seat belt sign went out and I felt I could relax and wait for the trolley to come round with cartons of fruit juice (there was less than half an hour between ending the ascent and starting the descent). I did feel they were a bit slow getting the service started. I then noticed two burly blokes from the front row getting up and engaging the cabin crew in conversation. They were obviously security - one had quasi-military stripes, and the other just looked like security. The steward walked hurriedly up the aisle with a look of consternation. The stewardess went into the cockpit and when she came out she spoke to the security guy in the leather jacket. Cabin crew are supposed to wear fixed smiles: she looked as gloomy as gloomy can be. I was starting to get a little edgy. I exchanged glances with Jimmy - he was clearly thinking something was up. I looked around me - the body language of our Dutch man and the Russian in front of me was nervous.
At one point the security guy patted the inside of his leather jacket - checking for his gun. At that point the seatbelt sign came on and my bowels nearly turned to liquid. I was relieved when the stewardess said "We are now beginning our descent into Sharm El Sheikh."
But I still felt uneasy. Very uneasy. The second the plane stopped on the runway, half of the passengers leapt up, almost as if choreographed. The stewardess shouted sternly - harshly - into the PA "Sit down". That scared me. The two security guards went to the front, by the exit doors and stood there, like bouncers. The lights went out in the cabin, and we sat there. I was absolutely terrified. The split second the seatbelt sign went out every single person on the plane leapt to their feet. Even though we knew it would take an age for the stairs to be attached.
People started moving into the aisle, including those of our party who were in the aisle seats, including Alex, a nine-year old girl. Suddenly her mother Margaret shouted at this middle-aged Russian woman, "Will you not hit my daughter. She's a child" The woman, far from desisting, carried on pushing, shoulder-barging Alex, with an ugly look of sheer determination on her face. Margaret shouted at her again, "She's a little girl. Haven't you any manners?" The woman forced herself into the aisle in front of Alex, and Margaret said something along the lines of "What is your problem. You hit my daughter. That's child abuse." The woman's husband started on Margaret, and Paul, Alex's father. The woman looked at them with total contempt, as if they were something she would wipe off her shoe. The man called them "Western Bandits" and "Peasants".
Ironically, our little minibus was speeding down the Airport Road whilst they were still Rushin' Pushin' to get onto their coaches, even though half of us had needed what the Austrian chap said "Smoke smoke smoke smoke". Afterwards, Jimmy and I were discussing it and we realised that the Rushin' Pushin' Russians were even more nervous than we were, were presumably thinking Chechnya, and just wanted to get the f**k off the plane. But that's no excuse for attacking a child.
And we saw a similar thing whilst waiting to check in yesterday. The airport is too small for the resort and there were six plane loads of people all trying to manoeuvre to the right places. Some Russian woman was trying to wheel her case through the Gatwick queue, and a British man was trying to help but she was snatching viciously violently, trying to get this case through, not caring about who she stood on or hit. She hit an eight year old girl as she swung her suitcase round.
I know it's very wrong to make generalisations about people based on their nationality, and dangerous to do it based on their behaviour on holiday. It is even more dangerous when they come from a country like Russia, where the vast majority of the population are struggling to feed themselves and heat their homes, and could never dream of travelling abroad for a holiday. But I did not meet one person who had a good thing to say about the Russians.
I was talking with a woman in the toilet queue. Well, I say queue - there were two cubicles and the Brits and Italians were waiting patiently to take their turn as Russians barged to the front (and failed to flush the loos). This woman was saying that a man in a shop was saying that the Egyptians don't like the Russians, except for the fact that they can name silly prices and they'll pay them - ten times what other nations will pay. They treat the Egyptians with utter contempt. Indeed, the toilet attendant turned to me and this woman and said "English?" We said yes. she smiled. There again, we had paid the customary 1 Egyptian pound (15 pence sterling, 20 US/Euro cents) for toilet paper. Basically, the Russians we encountered were those who have got very rich by corruption, bullying and riding roughshod over everyone else - the Mafia, in other words.
However, I only got home at half eleven last night. My suitcase is still packed, I have loads of washing to do about over 300 photos to upload and edit. The Victoria Line was shut this morning, adding half an hour to my journey to work. Word crashed on the computer and I lost half an hour's work. On the bright side I did a complete briefing for my manager - which feels good - and managed to make a phonecall I had been dreading making, with a reasonably satisfactory outcome.
Laters!
