And so begins my second life. The first life ended with the grotesque theater of a disastrous divorce, complete with all the traditional characters: the corrupt professionals, the negligent bureaucrats, the crumbling friendships, and the deteriorating health. The second life, however, began with a new romantic relationship full of expectations and enthusiasm, and the sharing of a new hobby to cultivate together—scuba diving, a dream long postponed in my previous life. Now is the time not to postpone dreams and passions. Now is the time to live this life; so, after completing the formalities, obtaining the necessary certifications, and purchasing the equipment, we treat ourselves. Destination: the Red Sea, Egypt.
From the decision to book the boat, only a few hours, if not minutes, pass. Our choice is quite limited by the availability on our identified departure dates, and it falls on the Blue Horizon, a beautiful ship with sleek lines. The route is thrilling but somewhat intimidating for two inexperienced divers like us: Brothers, Daedalus, Elphinstone—three legendary reefs scattered in the Red Sea, rocky pinnacles emerging vertically from the depths of one of the planet’s deepest seas. BDE, as it is familiarly known among divers, means vertical walls plunging into the abyss, teeming with corals, the possibility of strong currents and rough seas... but most importantly, it means sharks, especially two species: hammerhead sharks, which in many places around the world are a rarity but here are almost guaranteed. So, alongside the excitement of the first exotic diving trip, the first real trial by fire, except for a few extremely safe dives in Italy, there is the reverent fear of the abyssal predators, the hesitation about one's capabilities in the face of so many new challenges. It is an intense emotion, yes, enough to make the heart race at the very thought, but a positive and vital emotion. Then begins the countdown of the weeks that seem never to pass, the evenings spent on YouTube watching that video of the time a diver at Brothers was attacked on the calf by an agitated oceanic whitetip shark, instructional videos on how to handle strong currents. This intense training activity is effective because, by doing so, the weeks actually pass and the time to leave finally arrives.
Leaving the Western world for the first time, after a lifetime devoted to responsibilities and work, chasing deadlines and goals, is like diving into a dream with blurred edges. Always rooted in a reality of certainties and routines, I find myself facing an unexpected disorientation. The solidity of what I knew, the world that had welcomed and shaped me, dissolves at the airport when the plane takes off, and the city lights turn into a trail of luminous dots in the darkness, and the flight hours stretch to the limits of tolerance. Because once we reach the moment of departure, the beginning of the adventure becomes an irresistible necessity, and the flight hiatus, compressed in an airborne cattle car, becomes an odious deferment of the real journey.
Even the stopover in Cairo does not satisfy the ever-growing hunger for Egypt. Cairo. An evocative word. Just reading it on the airport signs should give a jolt; the awareness that out there, a few kilometers away, are the Pyramids should finally unleash the traveler's appetite, allowing oneself to say "we're here, the journey is beginning." But Cairo's airport is a large international hub, bustling with travelers of all nationalities and origins. Despite some idle soldiers in undeniably Arab uniforms and demeanors, there is no real sense of having finally arrived in the Orient, in Egypt, in that land of endless history and immense charm. And so, another leg of the journey begins, postponing once again the climax and the relief of being able to say, "it starts now."
The plane lands in Hurghada when the small town, which generally cannot be described as "frenetic," slumbers in the night. After passing through security checks, ominously focused on the absence of drones in tourists' luggage, we finally reach the exit, where the automatic doors open onto a solid wall of hot, humid air that, with the first breath, fluidly penetrates the lungs, immediately giving a sensation of drowning. There is no time to recover from this unprecedented sensory experience as a welcoming, though not entirely reassuring, taxi driver runs towards us, repeating my last name with a questioning tone. After the pleasantries, the local driver takes charge of our luggage (including the damn, heavy, 24.8 kg Cressi Gorilla full of scuba gear) and leads us through the empty, poorly lit airport parking lots to his car. There is no time to wonder why it was necessary to park in such a distant and secluded place, nor to be apprehensive, as we are accommodated in an old Mercedes with worn seats. The taxi driver sits behind the wheel, looks at me with a wink, and asks almost pleadingly, "Michael Schumacher?" My mimicked reaction must be sufficiently eloquent, because then the trip, despite the previously expressed competitive aspirations, is relatively cautious and safe. Hurghada has a curious appearance; the first thing that catches the eye is the asphalt, the curbs, the smooth sidewalks. One immediately thinks that the constant action of wind and sand ends up smoothing all surfaces exposed to the elements. But then the gaze climbs the buildings to catch many, too many, concrete ruins that, even wrapped in the night, reveal their exposed skeletons of rubble and rusty steel rods. It's hard to tell whether these are ill-conceived construction initiatives prematurely terminated due to lack of funds or unfinished demolitions of buildings that once had a life, but it is evident that the whole town is in the grip of general neglect and widespread idleness. Yet, Hurghada is a city that lives mainly on tourism; it should be a Rimini or a Miami of the Egyptian coast. Is this decay the result of overly optimistic expansion followed by an economic crisis, or is it the proud display of a remarkable charlatanism? My curiosity wanes upon arriving at the hotel, where probably the sixth military vehicle in anti-terrorism gear encountered in our brief journey awaits us. It is no longer the time for philosophical speculations; I have finally had my longed-for first encounter with Arab society, and it is time to sleep because the next day promises to be filled with commitments and emotions: before boarding the Blue Horizon, scheduled for 6 PM, we have two dives near Hurghada with "Steve Scuba," a colossal and jovial Brit who will have the task of introducing us to the joys of scuba diving in the Red Sea.
Notes
To find the cruise, after a simple Google search, we chose the website liveaboard.com. The site is very well done, clearly presenting all available offers with all the necessary information and a series of filters to find exactly what you are looking for (e.g., availability of Nitrox on board, minimum number of dives required, etc.). In some ways, it is a kind of Airbnb for scuba diving; it offers an undeniably useful service to the user, but this service comes at a high cost, so it is worth considering contacting the cruise company directly to bypass the online agency’s intermediation.
Before leaving, you need to obtain an E-Visa at the website Visa2egypt.gov.eg.
As of October 2022, no vaccinations are required.
An almost indispensable accessory for the cruise is large clothes pegs to hang swimsuits, towels, and clothes to dry during navigation. Usually, each cruise has a few available, but the rule of "first come, first served" is practiced by everyone with dedication.
Another highly recommended item is xamamine; it will surely come in handy during the voyage. In general, cruises have an Egyptian equivalent of xamamine, which is even more effective, but it is better to have your own supply rather than sharing the on-board stock with the entire crew.
The main airlines flying from Europe to Hurghada, the main port for cruises to the southern Red Sea, as well as to Sharm El Sheikh, are Egypt Air and Turkish Airlines. But do not forget Neos Air, a low-cost airline that is sometimes absent from aggregators like Skyscanner, but offers excellent service for a low-cost airline.
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