The best coping mechanisms are always the ones that remind you of being a kid, though I quickly realised that re-discovering Famous Five as an adult is a terrible idea and the whole thing was immediately ruined now that I’m old enough to know how sexist and racist they are. Which I knew before but now I really know, you know? I mean dammit, if George wants to sleep in the barn with the boys then you will bloody well let her Julian, you prick.
Basically, I was already spending a lot of time inside my own head and that is really the only reason why I agreed to let a stranger film me getting sweaty and doing uncomfortable and weird things with my body by awkwardly twisting it into unnatural poses. Yoga. It was yoga.
That’s right, somewhere out in the world is a video of me in wobbly tree pose under a real life tree in the desert and sun saluting in a circle by the sea. I think it was for some kind of training or promotional video for Sara Campbell, a local yoga teacher/ famous freediver, but honestly, there was free food, so I didn’t ask.
After it was all done our group jumped back into the taxi’s, which in Dahab means climbing into the back of a pickup truck and holding on for dear life as the wind whips at your hair and face and the ground beneath you shakes and jolts with each slight bump in the road.
Dinner was in a small clearing, the rocky mountains cutting across the jagged sky as it slowly turned from a pale crisp blue to soft pastel pink. We sat on the cushions and rugs that had been laid out over the sand and ate dinner under the stars. Afterwards, we sipped sweet Bedouin tea and while everyone who already knew each other (which was everyone) was chatting, I zoned out a little and stared up into space, watching the shooting stars speed by.
To Be Continued...