Tag: poolside

Be silly

I am a 34 year old woman. 

And 3 years ago I got ridiculously excited about finally using a blow up whale in a pool in Alcudia. Mr W and I bought it on our first trip to Spain back in 2014 and like a mini-curse, the heavens opened and he stayed in his box. 

2 years ago, England was navigating its way through a mega heatwave and lockdown measures. We cooked by day and sweat by night. By August 2020, I finally relented and bought a big blow up pool. I bought an electric air pump and some chlorine tablets. This bad boy would make everything more bearable. The day the box landed on our doorstep, the rain came. It brought wind and chilly temperatures and away the box went. 

Last year, the UK had one week of hot weather and the box became dusty in the garden shed. 

Now I remember the joy of being poolside in 2019. I remember the beads of water falling from my hair, down my back, leaving an icy cool path in its wake. I remember blowing up Willy the whale and Mr W laughing at me. I also remember him jumping all over him in the pool. I remember how freeing it was to have fun that many think should stay in childhood. 

Willy is up in the suitcases with the flippers and snorkel gear, just waiting for our next trip poolside. But today, with a free-ish weekend that will see the UK bathing in another heatwave, I have freed the blow up pool from its box, broken the sellotape that sealed it, and set the pump to work. I have prepared a cabana style area at the end of our garden. There are sheets shielding us from pervy eyes and a table to hold our drinks. There is ice in the freezer and gin in the fridge. There is a projector waiting to whirr into life so we can sit in the cool water and watch a Disney film. There are lights that will be turned on when night falls and a smile will remain firmly fixed on my face. 

I am a 34 year old woman. There are more silly times ahead. 

Walk like an Egyptian. To and Fro. To and Fro.

The very first time I paid for someone else to travel was a big birthday celebration. 

My mum was turning 40 and had always wanted to go to Egypt. It was both of our first time in the country and I picked the Sharm El Sheikh Red Sea resort. We spent a week in the intense sun, cooling down in the huge pool and exploring the area. The area was built for tourism, it was not a cultural trip. Therefore we spent all but one day at the hotel. But it is one of my fondest memories. Times were simpler. 

Nowadays I long for the trips where I used to do nothing but people-watch and my movements were based on the sun’s position in the sky. I’m in no way saying I don’t enjoy the travelling I do now. It’s amazing. Just vastly different.

A trip now begins with a plan and long days filled with exploring and discoveries. It’s rewarding and beautiful and I wouldn’t change it. 

Even when Mr W and I have booked the quiet, relaxing holidays, we’ve each felt the ‘itch’ to get up and move around. Is it anxiety fuelled? Is it the need to see the world? I’m no longer sure. 

What I do know is when the time comes to sit still, we’ll be able to do it. 

My first time in Egypt was as unplanned as they come. When booking the trip I was given flight information, but told my hotel would be allocated on arrival. There were two 4 star hotels and one 5 star hotel in the possibilities and I counted my lucky stars that we were given the 5 star choice. I remember it so vaguely, a small all inclusive hotel with two pools. The smaller of the two was heated and therefore drew in my mum like a moth to a flame. She’s not good with cold water and when attempting to get into the bigger, colder pool one day decided slower was better and retreated down the pool stairs one tiny step at a time. I sat hidden by my book, laughing and watching everyone else laugh too. The noises, well shrieks, bounced all the walls of the surrounding accommodation and am sure drowned out the call to prayer that sounded nearby. 

That’s how we spent our days, until the sun fell behind the nearby mountains. When you are that close to the equator you can reach up, block the sun from view behind your thumb and literally trace it moving towards the horizon. It’s incredible. 

A mile from the resort we found the tourist nighttime hotspot. Restaurants, shops and a few clubs. It was the main hub for the entire hotel complex and came alive at night. There was so much going on you could not turn your head fast enough to take it in.  Shisha bars with all types of flavoured tobacco to try. Souvenirs of Egyptian cotton and drawings on papyrus. The locals offer you 12 camels for your hand in marriage. The open air was still warm, the lights glowed orange and allowed the night to darken to their deepest black. We spent hours wandering until it was time to leave. The last stall sold hand painted canvases. Large expanses of bright colours showcasing the wonders of Egypt; sand dunes, pyramids and camels in abundance. We each bought one, which we rolled securely and placed inside a sturdy cardboard tube. They both still hang in our homes.

As we left, waving away the throng of taxi drivers who called to us for ‘cheap taxi, cheap taxi’, we spoke of the lion painting that had caught my mum’s eye. She’d loved it but didn’t know where to hang it at home. We walked the mile back to our hotel, made it all the way back to our room, sat down and she gave me the look. The look that said, ‘I know where I would put the picture’. 10 minutes later we were on our way back to the market. Ignoring the taxi drivers and the calls from the bars to ‘please come in for a drink’, we head back to that last stall. Where she bought the picture and we walked the mile home. 

That picture still hangs in my mum’s home. My childhood home. Every time I see it, I remember the four miles of walking it took to buy it. I remember the laughter. The to and fro and to and fro. 

It’s when these memories pop into my head that my longings for the ‘simple holidays’ return. Sitting still, under the sun’s glare and a simple night-time walk can have even more impact on my life than I’ll understand at the time.