It takes a while and a few sweaty climbs, past some trees, until I find the spot.
What these trees feed on is beyond me.
Nothing but sand
This is it, this is the place, there is nothing but sand, in all shades of yellow, ochre, mustard, cinnamon, then again reddish. Every sign of life has been lost. No tree, no shrub, no leaf, simply nothing, not even one of those strange nameless survival artists, who sometimes thrive in the middle of a dried-out nothing ...
Lawrence of Arabia 2.0
This is the desert I have in mind, as in Lawrence of Arabia, and I wouldn't be surprised if Peter O'Toole stepped out of the shadow of the nearest dune, wrapped in snow-white Bedouin robes, turban on the head, a double-barreled shotgun in his hand, his eyes full of thirst for adventure, his gaze turned to the distance, to the confrontation with the Turks ...
A few steps up or down the slope, and the phantasmagoria dissolves. Voices get louder, in all languages, a forested hillside on the horizon, houses, roads, the noise of motorcycles. There is nothing about Lawrence, nothing about desert, the Bedouins are Vietnamese guys trying to lure passing tourists into their pub with hectic hand movements, the desert is nothing but a few hectares of dunes, but these are so great that you want to stay under their spell for hours.
An old ladies bike
But the heat boils over, amplified by the radiation from the heated sand, and so Lawrence of Arabia 2.0 retreats to the nearest restaurant in a hurry, today no crossing of the insurmountable Nefud desert, no capture of Akaba, but a beer in the shade, and later, instead of a dignified camel, an old women's bike that makes a screeching noise every few seconds and inexplicably brakes the front wheel. The only way I figured out on the way there is to brake so it doesn't brake anymore.
That's not what the inventor intended, but it does get me forward, somehow, sometimes noisily, especially when all the tricks are no longer of any use and it only screeches and brakes and I swear out loud.
The way back leads me past the sea. It's lunchtime, the fishermen have returned from their journeys.
The basics in life
And then it is time to start packing again, to plan, to reserve the next hotels, to find the best routes, to weigh up the different possibilities. Travel, as I do, is ultimately the concentration on the essentials, on the basics of life, the retreat, so to speak, to the lowest layer of the pyramid of needs. Food, drink, accommodation, health, transport. Everything else is secondary. As long as the basics are secured, there is nothing to worry about.
Planning
And while the plans, possibilities and desires are dancing in my mind, the realization slowly and painfully unfolds that time is running out. I might twist and turn it any way I want - it will be difficult. Tomorrow Saigon, then the Mekong Delta to Ha Tien, finally Cambodia with Kep, Kampot, Phnom Phen and of course Siem Reap with one of the highlights of the trip: Angkor Wat. But what the heck, this is a serious affair, therefore I have to endure some hardships ...
PS Matching film: Lawrence of Arabia (one of my favorite movies ever)
And here the journey continues ...
