Ya Habibi
The men here are compulsive flirts but their batting of eyelashes and sweet nothings are really just playful, harmless. One of the hotel help, Zahir, ran up to me the first week to ask in French if I would be his “petit ami” and I have since called these gallant Egyptians who shower Bernice, Razinat and me with lavish attention our “little friends”.
This is what Zahir said to me at lunch yesterday: “You like bread and butter, my lady?”
Most of the Egyptian men working here are Christian and tattooed with crosses on the hand as proof. Apparently this resort town boasts its Copt-friendliness because its creator, Onsi Sawiris, is of the faith. Here one does not get woken up by the Muslim call to prayer blasted from an intercom system at 4am. And this is part of what makes the El Gouna experience so totally restful. Are we really in Egypt?
Here’s what Zahir said to me at lunch this afternoon: “How are you today, my love? Hungry?” I promise you he was not getting fresh. He says this to all the women and always sincerely. His mix of sentimentalism and bonhomie puts him in a special category found perhaps only in Egypt: he is a love lamb. The German owner the beauty salon where I went for a pedicure explained that El Gouna is frequented by a certain kind of woman – entre deux ages as the French euphemize — looking for sex partners amongst the resort’s handsome array of Egyptian help. The love lambs, often from far away villages, innocent and virginal (no joke, sex outside of marriage remains strictly taboo here) can find themselves corrupted by these lady sex predators. Might this is the perfect setting for a transposed Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded or even a Moll Flanders rewrite… Ya habibi.