A trip to the fantasy land of El-Gouna brings Pierre Loza some unexpected challenges The streets of El-Gouna resemble fairytale pathways where hobbits and dwarfs roam and low pink cottages lean gently against burgundy domes. Everything is designed to appeal to the senses in this miniature seaside town, which in itself makes an incredible change from the urban jungle of Cairo. Here palm trees caress innovative architecture, and internet cafés meet desert dunes. Romantic and soothing, it also has that Disney World feeling of meticulous cleanliness, thanks to the alert management and efficient quality control. This week, though, there was an extra dash of excitement mingled with the Red Sea breeze: El-Gouna was playing host to the annual Miss Three Corners Belgian Beauty pageant . For this young reporter, the assignment was an absolute dream. The burden of interviewing 20 beautiful young Belgian misses on the shores of the El-Gouna lagoon sat lightly on my shoulders as I waited for the bus to pick me up from the dirty Cairo streets and whisk me away to paradise. However, as my travels progressed, my much-envied undertaking would give me a bit more to chew on than I had thought. On arriving at the Rehana Hotel in the Four Corners Resort, still stiff from my six-hour bus ride, I was shown immediately to an air- conditioned room with a large comfortable bed. I counted my blessings as I opened my suitcase to take out the friendly laptop that follows me everywhere -- only to find that the friendly laptop had somehow not followed me to El-Gouna. Instead of its familiar forms, I was greeted by the unexpected sight of several kilogrammes of macaroni, a few half-empty water bottles, and a small selection of used socks. What had happened? Had my karma finally caught up with me? Or was I simply a plaything of some ancient gods, to be punished for my hubris? What reporterly sin had I committed, to find myself thus alone, plunged into the midst of the earthly paradise of El-Gouna with no clothes, no lap top, and no friends, with only a few emergency pasta rations to see me through? I was on the brink of shedding a few manly tears for my dear technological companion. But determination and practicality soon took the upper hand, and a call to hotel management followed by a quick trip into Hurghada reunited me with my lap top, and returned the vital macaroni bags to their rightful owner. Before I could get to grips with Belgian beauty, however, another challenge lay in my way. I had intended to switch off my brain for a few days and let my eyes do the investigative journalism. But I reckoned without the complex multi- layered vacation proposition that is El-Gouna. El-Gouna's uniqueness lies not only in the fact that it's a clean, well-organised resort in a stunningly beautiful setting, but also in its constant focus on environmental standards. El-Gouna's mayor, Ali Ibrahim, who prefers to be called " El- Omda ", is dedicated to keeping his miniaturised townlet spotlessly clean and ecologically aware. Fresh from my ordeal with the macaroni, I had gone in search of beauty, when I ran into Ibrahim. He was hosting an environmental awareness-raising event. That's not the kind of occasion that's usually going to be throbbing with energy. But Ibrahim was, throwing kisses to his audience and cracking jokes at will. He is endowed with a positive energy that is rarely found in corporate corridors, and tends to carry all before him on the wave of his enthusiasm. "I once stopped a man in a BMW for throwing a plastic bag," he confided in me, as he swept me up in his passion for a litter-free Gouna. "He was very upset. Then I told him that, if he was in a European country, he would have been fined, and not just warned not to do it again." He smiled, with the certainty of a sheriff who has just taught a hardened cattle-rustler a particularly memorable lesson. It's this lack of awareness that is being addressed by the Green Gouna initiative. Through public events like community plastic bag collections spanning all of El-Gouna's beaches, Ibrahim hopes environmental awareness will become an integral part of El-Gouna's culture. The initiative also includes a focus on coral protection. "There is a lot of debris on the corals," Ibrahim lamented. "Last year, with the help of the divers, we collected 680 plastic bags, which had been left on the Islands." Boasting its own farm and recycling factory, El-Gouna is actively practising what it preaches. After learning about Green Gouna, I couldn't help but feel a little of the utopian spirit filter into my blood. It's not every day you sleep under such vivid stars, or swim among such colourful corals. Nor is it everyday that you go searching for Belgian beauty and find a pageant of environmental awareness in its place. Still, though I like to dream, I remain a true professional at heart. My main mission in life is more earthly than Ibrahim's, more terre � terre. Enough of saving the planet: it was time for me to fulfil my manifest destiny, track down those Belgian beauty queens and pose them a few penetrating and investigative questions. As a direct rival to the Ms Belgium competition, Belgian Beauty brings together 20 finalists chosen from among 285 candidates from all over the wonderful northern European country of Belgium. These 20 lucky ladies are then spirited off to El-Gouna to prepare for the finals, by practising their skills in dancing, modelling and public speaking in front of an enthusiastic Egyptian audience. The Miss Three Corners Belgian Beauty competition functions as a practice run just before the final round in October, which is held in the somewhat different conditions of the wintry North Sea resort of Knokke. Still, though it is just a practice round, it is not without its compensations: the young lady who is crowned the queen of the Three Corners wins not only a one-week Nile cruise, but a one-week El-Gouna vacation package to boot. The event's organiser, Ignace Crombe, tells me enthusiastically about how fast his contest had evolved over the last couple of years. "For the first time ever, the actual election of Miss Three Corners will be broadcast live on Belgian television," he said, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. There is also a documentary filming crew running after the contestants in El-Gouna, trying to catch their preparation work. And how refreshing it is to see these assembled Belgian beauties and realise how diverse their cultural backgrounds are. There is no place here for the traditional Eurocentric definition of good looks as essentially dependent on blond hair and blue eyes. As Contestant Christelle Fataki, a Belgian of Congolese descent, puts it: "I think that my presence in this beauty contest can help liberate how people see beauty." In Christelle's own case, the competition has also helped her personally to gain a greater sense of self-confidence, even though she confesses that her fear of appearing in public has not entirely left her. If she wins the Miss Three Corners title, Christelle told me, she will use her celebrity status to help NGOs that work with children. The world of beauty contests isn't all glamour and glitz, however, as I discovered when I saw Nele Blanckart faint in the middle of a dance practice session. Physically exhausted and completely dehydrated, she simply collapsed, bringing forth a frenzy of worried beauty queens to tend their fellow contestant with water, ice and juices. This marketing student from Aust has also worked in a transport company shipping goods from Belgium to England. She hopes that her exposure through Miss Three Corners will help her improve her career prospects in the marketing field. An only child, Nele is very close to her mother and father. "I am very proud that my parents are still together, especially with the huge increase in the number of divorces over the last ten years," she told me. Nele loves El- Gouna, but was slightly disappointed that there was not more emphasis on traditional Egyptian culture, something she is very interested in. Rahma Jiala, whose dark good looks betray her Moroccan roots, comes across as the loose canon of the lot. Dancing by the pool and winking at old men, she is a fun-loving and easy- going 22-year-old from Stembert. While working in a fancy boutique, Rahma learned about the contest through a poster she saw one evening while she was out for dinner. Coming from a Muslim background, her number one priority is "God, then family". "I am a very funny and simple girl, please vote for me," she giggled in her broken English. All she desires in a man is intelligence, honesty and charisma. So it sounds as though happiness for Rahma will not be far off! Evy Van Couwen from the outskirts of Brussels is another lively character. One of the few who were prepared to share the secrets of their personal life, Evy spoke about how her parents' six month separation had taken its toll on her. "After six months of ripping each other apart, they got back together," she revealed with a pearly smile. "That really restored my faith in true love." I had done my duty. I had spurned the superficial attractions of environmental awareness extravaganzas to spend my time on the hard thankless slog of running after Belgian beauties, witnessing the graft and hard toil that make a beauty queen, and almost wearing myself out in the process. So I was exhausted when the moment of truth finally arrived on the last night of my journey. All I could do was slump back in my lounge chair and gaze senselessly into space. A red carpet had been laid along a wooden runway leading to the centre of the pool, and the 20 finalists paraded out along it, strutting their stuff with dance routines and making the short stilted, yet utterly charming speeches that would introduce them to the judges and the audience. Although a little jittery, the Belgian beauties gave a solid performance, managing to look attractive yet sophisticated in everything from swimsuits to evening attire. And it was Rahma Jaila who snatched the title, with her suave dance moves and catchy Arabic phrases that had the judges and the voting audience taken by surprise. The knowledge that I had helped her to memorise the little Arabic interjections in her speech meant I could fall asleep satisfied that my journalistic duty was finally, and fully, done.
