Basata

4) 29.03.08

A place I always return to when traveling in Egypt is the beachside resort of Basata. 

For a long time, this was the refuge people from my German School sought during holidays they would otherwise have spent looking for a spot to camp or a hotel to book. Over the years, its fame has been spread by travelers who remember this quiet place with its deep blue sea, the untouched coral reefs and total lack of tourist attractions.

Basata means simplicity in Arabic, which is also the motto of this place. When I first came here, five, maybe six years old, the greatest luxury was the sweet water shower you had in the evening to wash out the salty sea water. Now, after twenty years and some evolution, they have stone huts to complement the bamboo huts which form the backbone of the place. A second wash-house has been built. Tours into the mountains are organized, you can hire a bike, a camel, should you want to explore the surrounding area. You can rent a cab if you want to go home. Or you can just lie in the main hut, socializing or reading on you own, with a beautiful view of the sea, should you want to rest your eyes from the people or the letters. 

As I write this, my skin is red from the sun, shocked into remembering that there was a time when its natural colour was not cheesy white and it took the suns' rays with impunity.

The place is successful, in part because, upon arriving, the guests seem to lay aside any worries they might have brought with them from their lives in the city and discard almost any technology. They adopt bermuda shorts and bikinis as morning, afternoon and evening dress. Their insides unwind, brought on by the silence of the mobiles, the lack of email, the absence of traffic or dealers in exotic trinkets. It is as far from the city as you'd like to be.

It is a place to take your tent to, pitch it up on the beach right next to the water, so that the first thing you see in the morning are the various shades of blue that make up the red sea: lighter where there is sand, dark spots signify coral reefs, ever bluer as the water deepens.

The place also prides itself on its cleanliness. The owners explicitly ask you to keep the sand clean, free of cigarette butts and waste. his rule is generally respected by all customers and visitors. 

A friend of mine moved here recently. He works here now, in stead of pushing the night shift in Berlin hotels. It has done him a world of good: He smiles as we share a morning nescafe (disgusting under any other circumstance, here it is the perfect start to your day) and talks to me in rapidly improving Arabic. He looks at ease here and at home. He has been coming here as long as I have, and now he has come here to work for a year.

Another nice tradition is the library, filled with books and magazines accumulated over years of visitors donating or forgetting their beach literature. It also helps the school, where the staffs' children are taught, to find new subject matter for teaching. Beduin children from up to 100 Km away also attend. They receive what may amount to be the best education available in sinai, They learn English and German, Computer science, geography, ecology and the arts all feature on the curriculum. It has to be said that it is unexpected to watch all these beduin children chatter away in fluent German.

The place is almost self sufficient. Independent of the national power grid, they grow their own produce, they raise animals and the sea provides them with ample catches of fish. The only goods that are not local are the luxuries city dwellers like me would complain without: Sodas, chocolate and sweets in general, sugary juices are all kept in an ancient butchers fridge that has been running as long as can remember. 

It is watched over by a multitude of intelligent cats, which are currently using me as a climbing wall. They have over the generations, become as much a part of this place as the bamboo it is made of. Bakiza, one of the smartest cats I have ever met (she only loves you when you have food on you) just had a batch of very cute and playful kittens, thus ensuring that Basata will not be catless for another generation. 

This idyllic location is about fifty kilometres away from Israel and the Gaza Strip and all the problems it might bring with it. Yet here, it is peaceful. One hopes it may remain so.