This is a series of self-portraits in Sharm El-Sheikh where I decided to stay for three winter months. This Egyptian resort town was devastated by the bombing of a Russian passenger plane in 2015 causing Russia and Britain to halt all flights with Egypt. Now, Sharm El Sheikh, the pearl of the Red Sea, has become a ghost town.
A month after arriving, there was a man vacuuming the ceiling of the hotel I was staying at. He lost his balance and I ran to catch him which caused me a hernia. At the hospital I was told it would cost $3500, fifty times more expensive that it would cost for an Egyptian. My insurance didn’t cover this and I didn’t have that amount of money. I was forced to do nothing but wait for the return flight to Moscow where I could get medical aid for free.
During this time, I caught a cold that lasted several weeks and my doctor warned me not to cough or lift up weights as it it could make my condition worse. This left me in fear. I kept thinking to myself, “How long can you live in fear for your health”? “How long can you look at fish”? I lost interested in everything that the city of Sharm had once provided. I could no longer call this a vacation as it left me counting down the days to head back home.
This is a story about how I lived in Egypt while counting the days to head back home.