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LONDON TO EGYPT - HOW NEW PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE DEVELOPED IN THE PANDEMIC

Oliver Rieche (Class Of 2006) writes:

For many, the pandemic had serious consequences in various ways – whether health, career, travel, lockdowns or other restrictions on freedom. Following some initial few hardships, the pandemic turned out to be an incredible opportunity for me – I just had to be courageous and embrace the unknown. I’d therefore like to take you on a journey from my life as a commercial lawyer in London to my new oasis of life, the hippie diving town on the Red Sea in Egypt, Dahab

I still remember exactly how it all began in March 2020. I was sitting at my desk in the London office of my international law firm when suddenly an email from the Office Managing Partner landed in my inbox: New remote working rules with effect of immediately. Not knowing what serious consequences this statement would have, I read on, spellbound. As of tomorrow, the entire London office would be working from home. Contrary to the rather conservative partners, I was very pleased – finally no more micromanagement, finally I could shape my working days more freely while still being productive. I saw the glass half full

In my naive carelessness, of course, I never thought my entire social life would suddenly be affected a few days later by it all, too. While I initially welcomed a forced 'social break' (no more FOMO, yay!), my enthusiasm evaporated a few weeks later, and the situation became simply unbearable after two months. Two holidays were also scrapped. My initial vigour quickly disappeared

On top of it all, shortly before Corona hit world events, I fell in love with Karim on a trip to Egypt in October 2019. Well, sounds all a bit complicated? Indeed. When airports around the world suddenly resembled cemeteries, and there was no prospect of improvement, Arab romanticism quickly turned into frustration: Was it worth holding on to this relationship (which at that time had barely got off the ground)? Or should I rather concentrate on my life as a London lawyer, which I had built up for the past five years? As someone who wears their heart on their sleeve, I chose the former. And with that came a daily waiting and checking of the Egyptian news to look for an end to the no-fly agreements. The frustration increased when new announcements about the lifting of the flight ban were shelved yet again: a game of cat and mouse.

But then, towards the end of June 2020, Egypt finally announced that the country, contrary to all others in the Middle East, would actually open their barriers again to international tourism on 1 July. Egypt depended too heavily on tourism to remain shut. Now or never, I thought, and wrote to my boss whether I could work remotely from Egypt for the time being. London was still 'paralysed', the office only existed on paper in those days, and the time difference between England and Egypt was merely one hour. In addition, my mother had been living in Cairo for 13 years, and I wanted to see her more often. My boss agreed. Nobody (myself included) could have known at the time what impact this decision would have on my life.

Three days later, on 3 July 2021, with 55kg of luggage and a one-way ticket, I sat on one of the first planes from London to Cairo. I did not fully understand what was going on until take-off –what a feeling of freedom! The feeling of being able to travel again, albeit with a mask, was incredible – especially since the vast majority of the world was still at a standstill.

At that time, I didn't know how long I would stay. I assumed I would be back in my London office two months later by September 2020. I would have never dared to believe that the pandemic would continue to this day.

When I landed in Cairo, I moved in with my semi-boyfriend (mind you, we had only seen each other on a handful of short trips prior to the pandemic and had spent a total of perhaps a month 'live' together – although we already got to know both families during this time). It was an experiment: moving in with someone for the first time coupled with a completely different culture (and in a homophobic country). Red flags? Possibly – but, I thought to myself, what’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn't work out, I go back to the British metropolis with another one-way ticket. An optimist by nature, I had nothing to lose.

At first, I had to get used to the intense summer heat. However, I had visited my mother several times in Cairo, so the culture shock in this gigantic city wasn’t as bad. After two weeks, Karim and I moved to his home roots in Alexandria by the Mediterranean coast. We lived in his family's cute holiday apartment; I considered myself the happiest person in the world. I was well aware of how lucky I was compared to my friends in Europe. Anti-Corona measures also applied in Egypt at that time, but they were interpreted rather flexibly. Thus, Corona soon became normal everyday life again with few to no restrictions.

After a month in Egypt, we were looking for something new. Dahab in South Sinai on the Red Sea would become our new home in August 2020. We had already visited it for a week in January 2020 so that Karim could teach me how to dive (he is a scuba diving instructor following a career as an actor/singer/model in LA). We reached the small town in 40 degrees’ summer heat, only to find that we would be spending our first night in a tiny apartment Karim’s cousin owned, with goats and street cats as neighbours, ants as kitchen companions and a non-functioning shower. Enthusiastic faces looked different.

After a few unsuccessful apartment hunting visits, we were on the verge of giving up hope of finding a sensible place to live when we suddenly opened the door to an apartment right on the beach. Master bedroom with a panoramic view of palm trees and the Red Sea and a huge roof terrace with a view of the sea, the nearby Sinai mountains and Saudi Arabia mysteriously lurking behind the Gulf of Aqaba –the decision had been made.

We settled in quickly. Dahab is full of young, dynamic, even spiritual types who either work remotely or have made a conscious decision to take a career break to allow for a recharge or reorientation. Whether scuba or freediving, kitesurfing, windsurfing, mountain hiking, quad biking, desert tours, aerial yoga or breath workshops, Dahab has astonishingly much to offer its 15,000 residents. The indigenous people of South Sinai, the Bedouins, live peacefully alongside Egyptians and foreigners.

As I fell in love with this place, my boyfriend fulfilled a great dream of his, that of his own diving center. Although he was initially warned he would be at the mercy of many competitors in an already saturated market, he stuck to his dream and opened Sly Dive in February 2021. Within merely six months, his team earned a position among the top five diving centres on Trip Advisor, and is now sitting at #2 (out of over 50); today he can hardly manage all the new enquiries he gets.

While Karim's professional future continued to solidify, by spring of 2021 the anxiety inducing feeling kept creeping in in terms of how long I would be allowed to stay in Egypt. I was always afraid of being ordered back at any moment. The longer the pandemic lasted, I thought, the stronger my case to continue working remotely from Egypt even after the pandemic. Even the conservative world of lawyers had to admit that working online was no longer as utopian as once perceived (and indeed it worked, the partners at my firm admitted that 2020 was the financially most successful year in the history of the firm).

And yet, it happened. In May 2021, I received the message from the Office Managing Partner: COVID-19 rules to allow working from the office again. Boris Johnson had announced that shops could open again from July and corporations could order their employees back into the office. Despite daily mental preparation, I was hugely disappointed. Because one thing was certain for me, I didn't want to return. Not yet.

A few days later, I promptly received the message from our HR department that there was now a new 'post COVID-19' work regulation. From the beginning of September, lawyers would be obliged to come to the office for at least two days a week. However, it was added that in exceptional cases, one could continue to work abroad. This would need to be discussed and approved in individual cases. All was not yet lost.

Shortly after this announcement, my boss asked me how I felt about the announcement and when he could expect me back in the office. My stomach tightened at the question. The idea of turning my back on my newly found paradise, my two dogs, yes, the life I had built for myself in the past year, as if it had never existed, was impossible. I could not imagine returning to my everyday life in London. I wanted to stay at all costs

Even before the conversation with my boss, I had written a two-page essay to make a ‘case’ for my life in Egypt. In the almost hour-long conversation, I explained to him why I wanted to stay. The quality of my life had increased dramatically, yet I remained productive (if not more productive). I could network with new clients, if necessary. Last but not least, I was honest about my relationship, which had intensified, blossomed even, in the last few months. Since my boss showed little enthusiasm for my decision, I suggested a compromise. Instead of two days in the office per week, I proposed one month in Dahab, one month in the London office. In the end, my boss remained diplomatically neutral. He neither wanted to approve nor reject my request and instead agreed to talk to HR and our Head of Department about this.

A week later the bad news landed in my inbox. They had decided against it. I thanked them and showed understanding for their decision. I could imagine how difficult it must have been at the time to want your team physically reunited after such a long time. Nevertheless, my area of law (environment, health, and safety law) was well suited for remote work, because we neither appear in court nor meet clients in person – all our contact was via email and telephone (not even via Zoom)

Suddenly, I faced a big decision. Back to London as if nothing had happened, or stay in Dahab by the Red Sea, not knowing what to do next? I chose the latter. Although I wished I could have combined the two, as I really liked both my firm and the position as co-chair of the firm’s LGBTQ+ committee, my decision was clear. I couldn't go back to my old life anytime soon – even if it meant having to quit my job.

At the end of September 2021, when my colleagues went back to work in the office, I officially submitted my resignation. It was a strange feeling. For the first time, I took a path that seemed completely uncertain to me, but which nevertheless felt perfectly right. Like probably many working professionals, I am someone who usually follows a job offer elsewhere when I quit or at least have an idea of how things could continue professionally.

This time, I didn’t have anything. Neither a job waiting for me nor a concrete idea of what the next one might look like.

Of course, my friends and family were equal measures inspired and equal measures shocked about my decision. Wow, you're giving all of this up for... an unknown future? Well, yes. All I knew was that I had made the right decision. A decision for a new chapter in life in the hippie town of Dahab on the Red Sea alongside with my boyfriend's diving center.

Of course, it would have been 'easier' to go back to London, where a well-paying job and friendly colleagues were waiting for me. But sometimes you just have to do things that are matters of the heart. And with a place like Dahab, this decision was not that difficult. A place set between the desert, Sinai mountains and the sea, an eclectic mix of Bedouins, Egyptians and expats, a place full of sporting and spiritual opportunities, good food and a magical energy you really have to experience for yourself.

Although I made the decision to take a sabbatical in 2022 to wind down a bit, it ended up being typically full of activities and adventures. After time spent as a Global Policy, Diplomacy, and Sustainability Fellow online, I travelled across Turkey and Europe, attended youth leadership conferences in Berlin and Kosovo, and later organised a leadership retreat in Dahab for 18 young leaders from 16 countries who are all part of Sandbox, a global network of young entrepreneurial changemakers addressing the fundamental challenges of our time. Now, I have stepped up as the legal director for the upcoming global gathering of 200+ Sandboxers in Vietnam in February 2024.

In November 2022, I also attended COP27 in Sharm-el-Sheikh (the city next door) as part of the official delegation of a Franco Cameroonian NGO focussing on climate migration. This propelled me to eventually remotely join an environmental startup in my capacity as a lawyer at the beginning of 2023, seeking to fight climate change by revolutionising the carbon credit system and curbing deforestation.

I may not be entirely sure where my career is going to take me, but I do know that I want to give back to society through all the privileges I’ve enjoyed throughout my life. I want to have a positive impact. And for now, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else but Egypt.

If you’d like to discover this region for yourself, please do get in touch with me!

With best wishes from Sinai for 2024, coupled with the hope that we will all go our own ways eventually.

Oliver

Oliver.rieche@gmail.com https://www.linkedin.com/in/ oliverrieche