Smurfs on holiday

Sinai. 41 degrees. Perfect hold. Three-weather taffeta. That’s exactly what the saying would have been if a sneaky hairdresser hadn’t quietly and secretly given the lady from the 80s advert an overdose of Gard sometime in the 90s. Heat and strong winds greet us on the steps out of the aeroplane in Sharm el Sheikh. I’m beaming in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, when we arrive at our hotel in Nama Bay, this joy has already faded. Just 10 kilometres to the south, it’s absolutely calm. We want to take a quick dip in the sea, but the hotel beaches are closed off and the public guards have a massive objection to night swimming. Three o’clock. Off to bed.

First morning. On the beach, animated people bounce around in the water to loud music. The scene reminds me strikingly of a frightening experience in the Caribbean. Back then, my father scolded me for firing so sarcastically at the poor holidaymakers.

Today he gets out of the sea, looks towards the music, then at the bouncing Smurfs in the water, shakes his head and actually says exactly the same thing as me. I feel vindicated and therefore practise moderation. Instead of a verbal broadside, there’s a little fairy tale today.

Even the Smurfs sometimes go on holiday when Gargamel gets on their nerves too much. Preferably to the seaside, the shady forest just gets on their nerves too much in the long run, just like the Finns. Azrael takes a summer break when the Smurfs are sunbathing in the cat-poor Sinai.

Many creatures like to complain about their cruel fate. As soon as it’s a different one, either everything was better in the past or they simply don’t know what to do with the space they’ve been given because of the lack of suffering. Viennese are of course exempt from this rule :-) As true cheerful characters, Smurfs don’t grumble about how rubbish everything was back home in the forest with Gargamel. But as soon as they arrive at the Red Sea, they hang around worse than the poorest zombie on hypoglycaemia. Free space mutates into empty space.

Then comes the animatronics. Like the meerkats, the Smurfs lift their tired heads out of their beds. Smurfette is here! There’s no gangbang today, but at least there’s a bit of aqua aerobics. “Hey, hey baby. It’s raining man. First was afraid, now I’m petrified. Sing hallelujah!” The Smurfs jump up, run into the water, jump and splash. Life has a meaning. I’m whistling Thriller.

The Red Sea used to be red. Then the Smurfs came, jumped into the water and revealed their colourlessness. All the blue colour washed off their bodies. What remained were white legs and beautiful blue water.