February 26, 2008...7:19 pm
Less than 20 meters under the sea
Last week I took advantage of my location to engage in an activity that few people would associate with Egypt: Scuba Diving. After a two long days of classroom instruction and a lengthy pool dive in a typically Egyptian-only pool (connections are everything), 15 AUC students, 4 professional divers and one nameless bespecled boy loaded into a van to strike out across the Sinai.
Going across the desert, I found myself incapable of engaging in too much conversation, instead enraptured by my first glimpses of the endless stretch of sand bathed in moonlight. Outlandish whims surfaced out of the calm, like wanting to experience Bedouin life in the desert or learn the geophysical history of the location, all so that I could more intimately connect with my surroundings.
Beyond that, I couldn’t help but play Six-Degrees to the Sinai Peninsula while bumping down the highway. Two major wars with Israel, the Suez Canal. This land’s significance goes back to Moses traipsing through it and then showing the Red Sea who’s boss. Beauty and blood are intimately related here.
At 40 LE per night, Dahab’s lodgings were by far the least expensive when compared with Haragada or Sharm al-Sheikh. Apparently the diving conditions were “very bad”, so said my dive instructor, but to the uninitiated, it was paradise. With the Sinai mountains at our back and facing Saudi Arabia across the Gulf of Aqaba, it was hard not to feel empowered and alive. I took responsibility for my safety, and that of others, all the while exploring a ecosystem in which I’d only waded and splashed during my childhood.
Linguistically, I prefer Dahab’s relaxed speech compared to Cairo’s verbal barrage, and heard phonemes characteristically associated with Classical Arabic or other dialects emerge throughout my brief conversations. Very interesting especially when conversing with the notable presence of Russian tourists and scuba divers, muddling along in their Arabic the same as us but with heavy accents and more inclination toward vodka. (You really shouldn’t drink and dive. Seriously. It could lead to Nitrogen Narcosis.) One of the bizarre highlights was an Egyptian family posing for a picture with my friend and I in our bathing suits as Russians laughed at us. That and the clumsy stealth of 3 youths taking turns snapping photos of themselves lounging in front of me and my same friend. Boys will be boys.
Diving itself felt natural. Beyond the whole “breathing under water” deal, maintaining neutral buoyancy at a significant depth while keeping one’s speed in check is a very relaxing way to spend an hour. Though I’ll admit when my low-pressure hose refused to connect and function on my 3rd dive, mortal peril was a topic I contemplated at 16 meters under the sea. So many things can go wrong! But, thanks to some prudence and fortitude, I came out better for having scuba’d.
When we clambered back into the bus after our 4th and final dive, I started right in on my Arabic homework, something that never happens on any kind of trip. Never underestimate the powers of a fulfilling vacation.
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