White Desert, North Eastern Sahara
November 26, 2008
White desert, near Farafra oases, photo: ©Lydia/Lydiasplanet
My butt is soar from riding a camel for the last five hours. Last time I was on a camel we rode them Bedouin style on a blanket with our one leg crossed above the hump. This camel has a some what British style saddle that, as the camel sways its way forward, offers a hellish grind to my lady parts. By dusk as we approach the valley for our camp, the size of my - lets call it lady buzzer, is the size of a ping-pong ball. Sounds perhaps like fun, but I assure you that my beautiful jewel (new word, same meaning) the crown of my kingdom (same same) chose exile for a full week.
Our camp is sheltered by the jeep Mr. Farak has been driving before hand with food, sleeping bags, fire wood and more. The night settles, the fire is burning, there is no sound apart from that. Just stillness. The camels are being feed and watered some hundred meters to our left. There is no wind, the temperature is as if we where indoor. It’s a mixture of magical and bizarre.
I move my hand and try to feel the air... if someone would tell me I was on a film set, inside of a large studio, I would believe them – this is how serene it is! I lean back on the rolled up pillow behind me, and try to adjust my eyes to see the stars. The dark sky is vast, horizon to horizon. I think to myself “-I AM on a film set, it IS the Truman Show, and it has moved to Africa”.
A tea pot is boiling on the fire. Next to me the French guy takes a deep draw from the water pipe and it gives away a funny bubbly sound.
Next morning as we wake up to sunrise, the air is cold. There’s is tiny sign of frost on the heavy blanket I have had on top of my sleeping bag. Now as the sun is rising, warmth arrives a new. I indulge in to a chest opening yawn, stretch out and smile to the sun. I have been dreaming of marshmallows, or more precise, of what it would look like if Dali had painted this land.
I feel rejuvenated by its clean palette, clear odourless air and soundless environment. Thought, one smell is slowly reaching my nostrils, the smell of boiling coffee! I jump to my shoes, pull back my hair, put on my sun glasses.
Hello desert life!
/Lydia
©Lydiasplanet
