Giftun and the Coral Reefs
Snorkeling among the coral reefs around Giftun Island, I discovered an enchanting underwater world filled with colorful fish and vibrant living corals. Relaxing on the idyllic Orange Bay shoreline felt like stepping into a fairytale—the hues of the sea, the sand, and the carefully designed surroundings exuded perfect harmony. Although the journey came with minor challenges, the sunset by the sea and these extraordinary experiences made everything worthwhile.
07:04
My old downtown apartment in Budapest once had a hopelessly flawed bathroom, with water leaking unexpectedly from somewhere all the time. I solved the issue by buying a wooden grid flooring meant for outdoor patios, allowing water to flow underneath without me having to mop it up constantly. Well, this bathroom could use something similar—some wooden slats to keep feet dry, because the bath mats here never dry out.
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07:21
Murdered, attacked, run over, executed—just the usual morning news on the radio. Honestly, ignorant people are much happier. I’d be better off not following the news.
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08:03
We got back from the Cairo tour after 11 p.m. last night, and I’m not exactly well-rested. But I’ve signed up for a snorkeling trip today—something I’ve never tried before.
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08:40
I can’t say I feel particularly safe in this car. A guy who knows my name and phone number picked me up. I hope we’re heading to a boat.
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08:42
They’ve taken me to the same harbor by the Russian hotel where the Cairo tour group dropped us off yesterday, even though I booked today’s trip with a different company.
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08:51
For now, I’m sitting on a yacht at the edge of a beach, staring at oil slicks in the water—what a disappointing sight.
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09:00
Finally, we’re setting sail. Giftun Island runs parallel to the city; from Hurghada’s beaches, it sits on the horizon in a way that enhances rather than detracts from the view. Giftun looks like a giant sandbar in the water, with its southern tip hosting a beach called Orange Bay. The area between Giftun and Hurghada is a snorkeling paradise—practically anywhere you look below the water, you’ll find coral reefs.
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09:15
I really need to focus on what the crew is saying. My English is still far from perfect, but I’m starting to understand. I notice it’s similar to my previous French sailing company: there’s a captain responsible for the ship and safety, and a director in charge of entertaining the guests.
This isn’t the first time I’ve sensed a French influence. Considering the French once colonized all of North Africa, it’s not surprising. What I still don’t understand is why Turkish has so many French-sounding words, given that it’s not even a Latin-based language.
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09:45
Our guide for the day is Mustafa. I suspect this guy might be on something—his eyes are half-closed, and it’s barely morning.
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09:55
Mustafa puts on some good music, instantly lifting the spirits of the young crowd on board. It’s catchy and perfect for dancing. Honestly, any music can put me in a good mood.
10:30
Can something be both boring and enjoyable at the same time? Perhaps this is what we call “familiar.” If that’s the case, I find immense comfort in this kind of happiness. It’s no secret that I love the sea, and I spend at least one weekend a month by the shore.
The “silver bridge over a blue carpet” is an image I know well, and it’s just as stunning today. This time, the backdrop includes minarets and hotel skylines.
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10:35
From this angle, Hurghada looks like a really cool place—one that costs a fraction of a French seaside vacation while offering both indulgent service and breathtaking views. Still, I think every sunbathing guest should be taken on a tour of a nearby slum to truly understand that the cost of this luxury isn’t being borne by them.
Most tourists arrive at resorts and never see the other side of life here.
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10:40
The coral reefs are where the water darkens. The captain clearly remembers the spots he visited yesterday. When you see a cluster of boats in the open water, you can bet there’s something remarkable below the surface.
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10:45
I imagined snorkeling would be more complicated. I’m given a basic diving mask to see underwater, a snorkel to breathe without lifting my head, and optional flippers. The task is simple: lie face down on the water’s surface. The saltwater’s buoyancy, combined with the life vest, keeps me afloat. With my head submerged, I can observe fish I never realized were swimming right beneath our feet.
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11:00
Since I can’t take a camera underwater, here’s a quick list from memory:
- A fish eating just a meter away from me.
- An extra-long, slim fish.
- A multicolored fish.
- A rainbow fish.
- A yellow one.
- A chubby one.
- A light-brown, pencil-shaped fish.
- And one that looked like it had cow patterns.
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11:10
I don’t seem to understand how to use this snorkel, or maybe it’s just a bad one. I assume water keeps getting in because I dip my head too deep. For the afternoon dive, I’ll skip the snorkel—raising my head for a breath every minute is less trouble than emptying the water out of the snorkel.
The flippers help me swim slightly faster, but we’re not allowed to venture far, so they’re unnecessary. Our guide doesn’t let us swim over the corals since this is a protected area. We’re swimming along the edge of the reef, which is still breathtaking.
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11:23
Here’s a rough draft of my thoughts, written while drying off:
“This was amazing. Seeing these fish—those colorful ones, the long one, and the coral—wow. When words fail, this is one of those moments. The tourist magazine was right, but being here is something else entirely. I can’t believe this is real.”
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11:25
I’m definitely buying a diving mask when I get home.
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11:31
Lunch is simple and delightful: rice, salad made with fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers—it’s important that it’s fresh and local because when the ingredients are excellent, it’s hard to make bad food.
There’s also that cylindrical minced meat dish I tried yesterday, seasoned with what feels like the gods’ spices. Grilled to perfection, it’s just as delicious today.
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11:47
As I understand it, charity is one of Islam’s pillars—or so I’ve read. A good example of this is the small boat following behind us. It could just be a friend, but it seems natural here to share what you have. This is something all cultures should adopt.
11:50
I snap a few more photos as we approach Orange Bay beach. I feel like I’m in a movie or a picture-perfect poster. These colors—I’ve never seen anything like them.
The water is a clear blue, reflecting the sky; the boat’s white hull contrasts beautifully, and the horizon showcases the sandy shoreline.
I had no idea this image existed in real life, right here before my eyes.
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11:55
Now I understand why the small boat joined us. The larger boat can’t dock on Giftun Island since it’s a protected area. Anchoring would stir up the water and disturb the beachgoers’ experience.
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12:02
Orange Bay is essentially a 200-meter-long cocktail lounge terrace by the water—something you’d think only existed in dreams or movies.
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12:05
Our boat drops us off at the end of a pier. From there, we walk to a central pavilion surrounded by souvenir shops and food stands. To the right and left, there are shaded terraces with beanbag chairs stretching about a hundred meters each way. During the summer, restaurants operate on the upper levels.
Behind the beach, a 20-meter sand dune rises, marking the edge of the national park. A fence ensures that this area stays protected.
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12:07
What a coincidence—when we enter the central round pavilion, Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” is playing. Some people waltz to this song, and it fits perfectly with the idyllic atmosphere.
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12:15
We’re given 90 minutes and a private section to enjoy the beach. The long cocktail bar terrace is divided into 50-person blocks, with each group getting its own terrace and a corresponding sandy beach area.
I wonder if the staff can maintain this level of attentiveness during peak summer months when the entire beach is full. They adjust beanbags, help elderly guests out of the water, and seem to notice everything. They greet everyone and are always available.
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12:30
There’s a swing in the water that’s nearly impossible to climb onto from the water—but of course, I have to try it.
Someone nearby mentions that this feels like Bora Bora, and I can see why. The sand beneath the water is white, the water is calm and light blue, and the sand dune behind us has a slight orange hue. It’s stunning.
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13:06
The cheapest cocktail here costs €10!
I’m frugal, but I would have indulged in a cocktail or coconut water for the experience. The pricing here seems to assume that everyone who comes can afford it. The problem is, most of us came to Hurghada precisely because we didn’t want to pay French Riviera prices!
Charge a premium, sure, but not this much. When the service level here is comparable to France’s coastline, you’d expect prices to be about double what they are elsewhere in Egypt, not equal to French rates. If tourists feel it’s not worth coming here, locals lose business, too.
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13:15
I hear that there are other private beaches on Giftun Island, but Orange Bay has the best marketing.
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13:41
A final round of photos, and we’re heading back. Part of me wants to stay longer, but I’m also looking forward to another coral-spotting swim.
14:30
Our boat has two levels: the upper deck is a large terrace, with the captain stationed at the helm in the middle.
I stretch out at the front of the boat to soak up the sun. This feeling—dangling my legs over the edge, staring into the vast blue expanse—is beyond words.
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15:05
Unlike earlier, we’re cruising closer to the coastline this time. It’s becoming clear that the promised second snorkeling session—part of the tour I signed up for—isn’t going to happen.
I could complain, but what’s the point? Instead, I focus on enjoying the scenery, the sunshine, and the views of the coastal resorts.
15:30
Despite my protests, the same driver who picked me up this morning insists on dropping me back where he found me. They’re determined to stick to their plan.
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15:40
I stop at a roadside café that clearly caters to locals rather than tourists. A cup of coffee usually costs no more than 50 Egyptian pounds here. I hand the barista a 100-pound note since I don’t have anything smaller. To my surprise, he boldly asks for another 100.
I’m not a fan of confrontation, but I engage in a brief back-and-forth. “Is this coffee made of gold?!” I mutter. I don’t like to escalate situations because I don’t know where the line is before things might turn physical.
In the end, this four-euro coffee is steep—even by Provence standards. I get that locals often try to overcharge tourists due to the stark difference in living standards, but this guy was downright cheeky!
At least he had the sense to serve the coffee in the nicest cup they had—and it was genuinely delicious.
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15:50
After venting my frustration (and realizing I could have loudly explained that even on the French Riviera, no one charges this much for coffee), I’m ready for my next little adventure: flagging down a rickety minibus and hopping in. For me, this is pure adventure.
16:04
These minibuses are genius. We should adopt this system at home—just flag down a driver, hop in, and pay them the equivalent of a bus fare.
16:05
Here, honking is the universal language:
- It clears traffic.
- It’s a way to greet or chat with other drivers.
- It doubles as a marketing tool (“Standing by the road? Need a ride?”).
- Or, sometimes, they just honk out of habit.
16:07
How does change work in these minibuses? The driver steers with one hand while using the other to take the cash handed forward by passengers in the back. Between honks, they make change and pass it back.
Their right hand is reserved exclusively for honking and handling money. Banknotes are stuffed into gaps between the windshield and the roof lining, sorted by denomination. Coins are tucked into the dashboard crevices.
16:08
I hand the driver a 100-pound note. He doesn’t have enough change on hand—he probably doesn’t even have two euros’ worth in total—so he dashes into a nearby vegetable shop to break it.
In the end, he accepts 10 pounds from me, though locals typically only pay him one pound per ride. For perspective, that’s 20 euro cents, while a single bus ticket in Marseille costs ten times as much.
Sure, the driver likely charged me ten times what a local would pay, but at least he wasn’t rude about it. We both walked away satisfied.
16:09
I’m starting to match the local traffic rhythm:
- I step into the roundabout on foot with confidence.
- At the right exit, I signal with my finger like a blinker and smoothly “merge out” of the flow—just like the cars.
16:30
For my last evening, I decide to indulge in the superficial tourist vibe along the marina promenade.
If I can find a morning snorkeling tour, I’ll book it immediately, but most trips seem to return in the afternoon, which won’t work with my schedule.
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16:40
Okay, this stunning sunset is definitely one of the best views in this city.
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16:58
I’ve got a new idea to try at home: roll a pancake into a cone like a kebab, fill it with chocolate shavings and fruit, and voilà—a Choco Roll!
17:43
It seems that even the “alcoholic” cocktails here are missing the alcohol, though I bet the price includes it anyway. On the bright side, the fruit juices here are outstanding, and four euros for a fresh juice isn’t bad at all.
19:29
Security guards strictly enforce who gets into the Marina area. Locals who don’t work here are turned away.
It’s clear who the tourists are based on clothing and grooming. This is truly a tale of two worlds.
20:18
I’m starting to get the hang of stopping a minibus—since they won’t stop for me unless I signal boldly. I hand over a 20-pound note and even get 13 pounds back.
This driver only needed seven Egyptian pounds to take me 12 kilometers. That’s about 20 euro cents, while in Marseille, the same distance would cost ten times as much.
For instance, even if this driver charged me ten times what a local would pay, he wasn’t outrageous about it. Everyone wins in this case.
Hurghada, January 10, 2025, Friday
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Giftun és a korallok
