I am just at the end of my life in Wadi Rum desert. I was living with a big Bedouin family in Rum village, then after a 3 week break I came to live alone in a Bedouin camp. I didn't visit Petra, Jerash, Madaba, Dead Sea, Jordanian river, Mount Nebo or any other sightseeing place in Jordan. Quitting smoking and drinking helped my extremely low budget a lot but I still didn't have enough to travel around nor to pay the expensive entrance tickets of the sites. Fair enough. My intention of travelling was never connected with the unsatiable desire of pining flags labelled "I was here". I wanted to settle down and try living as a local. So what I did.
I don't know what I took, what I gave, how I changed. I still cannot take myself out of it, writing this note leaning back on the rock of the camp's yard. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert is a stunning, soul-moving place, which entered into all my senses and spirit. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert itself couldn't be the place I loved and the place I felt like home without Abdul, Khaled, Salem and Ali, whose generosity, friendship, trust in me and respect provided me all the freedom and tranquility I needed.
11 days to go.
I don't know what I took, what I gave, how I changed. I still cannot take myself out of it, writing this note leaning back on the rock of the camp's yard. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert is a stunning, soul-moving place, which entered into all my senses and spirit. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert itself couldn't be the place I loved and the place I felt like home without Abdul, Khaled, Salem and Ali, whose generosity, friendship, trust in me and respect provided me all the freedom and tranquility I needed.
11 days to go.
