Just a taste of Egypt

Exiled from Eilat
Trying to find an empty bed in Eilat during an Israeli holiday is not a good idea. The place is packed with teenagers permanently drunk and/or manic because of desperate efforts to get laid before having to go back home again, something which is called 'having fun' in the propaganda of youth subculture.

At the end of the afternoon, getting affordable accomodation looked so hopeless that I hopped across the border to the Egyptian Sinaļ. This pretty piece of moon landscape had been returned by Israel to its rightful owner only a couple of years before, so the tourist business was still embryonic there.
In this curious 'bedouin' village on a beach along the Red Sea you could stay in tiny reed huts without any furniture or floor. As I didn't have a sleeping bag, I spent the night on a papyrus mat wearing most of my clothes and covered by my towel, just barely enough insulation to save me from lying awake all night shivering.
Before that, however, there were the delights of several 'bedouin'-style bars where you would recline on cushions while sipping your drink. The problem was, alcohol is officially forbidden in muslim Egypt. So getting a beer was a quite complicated affair, in which, after various deliberations and negotiations with several persons of unclear status and function, I was urged to drive with the owner in his pick-up truck to some International Hotel in the middle of nowhere to finally procure a crate of the illicit nectar.
The comical inefficiency of the entire tourist-operation there is perhaps best illustrated by how they handled the countless mosquitous that descended on the customers in the open-air bars: waiters walked around with spray-cans of poison with which they chased them between delivering drinks.