Hans Offringa  

As mean as a camel

Wherever in the world we travel, I always have to check out the stock in bars of restaurants, airports, hotels and the like. When I encounter a liquor store in a foreign country, I have to pop in to check what whiskies and whiskeys they carry. Call it a mild form of professional deformation if you like. One of my most remarkable "discoveries” occurred a couple of summers ago, when Becky and I were on holiday in Egypt. After an exciting and energy-draining night on the slopes of Mount Sinai (where Moses reportedly received the Stone Tablets and the people of Israel wandered around for 40 years in the eponymous desert), we hired a cab the next day to take us to the old market of Sharm-el-Sheikh. It’s a dusty little town, surrounded by the 5-star resorts that make this part of the Red Sea coast so attractive for tourists. Within the walls of the city one cannot buy any alcoholic drink, but opposite the entrance, just outside the walls, I spotted a little liquor store with a small terrace. After having shopped for an hour in 104 F (and it’s really, really dry out there) we were in dire need of a beer or two. In the shop my eye caught a motley crew of "whiskies.” Apparently Egyptians don’t consider it a crime to falsify the names of the world's best selling blended whiskies. Dewarts, John Waler, Joni Walker Red Table, and more of that sort. Diageo surely cannot appreciate this. The little flask in the Egyptian holder cost 25 euro. A bit too much for the mere fun of it, so we left it where it was. After a couple of beers on the terrace we headed back to our hotel.  In the backseat of the cab I involuntary had to think about our nightly adventure in the desert. The camels you could rent if you were not in the mood for climbing yourself were as mean as John Waler.