Camels in the Distance

Camels and More Camels

So I don't like riding camels but I've ridden them a lot. That's because I like them better than 4WD vehicles!


Kneeling Camel



Camel in Wadi Rum

Old photo of young white camel

My Camel Caveat

There’s one thing I didn’t mention about camels in my previous posts. And that is: I don’t like to ride ‎them! ‎

I got to ride my first camel on an island near the East African mainland. I don’t believe this island had ‎camels until recent history. The long trek up and down gravelly terrain with a camel whose hooves are made for ‎sand was unpleasant. Swaying with a camel that couldn’t easily find its footing through the rocky ‎areas was more than terrifying.

My first camel was a young male that audibly complained without stop all ‎day long. It was the only camel of the tour group of six of us that did this. When we took a mid-day lunch break, it ‎complained even more. I gave the camel to another member of the party and said I’d happily walk. ‎

I next was forced into riding a camel around the Pyramids at Giza. And it was forced. I don’t like the ‎swaying movement but I really wanted to see the Pyramids, not be taken around them like every ‎other tourist. The pyramid security insisted that we arrived too late to walk around even though we ‎saw other walkers and I could have walked faster than the camel who was made to stop by its ‎handlers every ten feet for another picture. We hadn’t requested this photographic service and didn't take any photos. I never got to go inside ‎the pyramids.

So no camel rides for me but I still like camels.

Camel Face Cool

On Lemon

I know a family once attached to American embassies in the Middle East region. They have a great ‎story about what their kids thought about being posted to Yemen just a few decades ago. ‎

Their young son who had trouble pronouncing some letters (like the letter 'y') was overhead speaking excitedly with one ‎of his neighborhood friends while outside in the backyard.‎

Son in a sing-song voice: “I’m going away, ha-ha-ha ha-ha, ha-ha-ha ha-ha.”‎

Neighbor Boy: “Where ya goin’?” ‎

Son: “I’m going to Lemon.”‎

Neighbor: “What’s that?”‎

Son: “I dunno but it’s very far away.”‎

No kidding!‎

Witches and Water

I couldn’t help having visions of bubbling witches’ brew, chanting “double double toil and ‎trouble” as well as Harry Potter and Salem, Massachusetts all dancing in my mind's eye. ‎

Tweet and I had a tame beach visit (no long hikes, major swim workouts), just pure relaxation. The ‎mood fit the hotel’s beach, a well-manicured strip of sand with fairly straight lines bulldozed that ‎morning (and apparently every morning) in the sand. The palm trees were spread out carefully every ‎so many meters. In the distance smallish mountains and sparkling blue water capped the look of a ‎miniature perfect get-away (even with the visible next hotel beach over a fence but not as well sculpted).‎

It was a weekday and no one was out until a young woman dressed in all black of course ‎arrived with her three children. (And yes for those believing folks she styled herself "Ninja Mom.") The youngest boy and girl played right at the shoreline; the oldest, ‎another boy of about ten or so, got to rent and take out the hotel’s jet ski. (I guess the hotel waives age limits for certain families.) He played for about half an hour but wasn’t ‎doing a great job.‎ That jet ski was just not moving very far or even all that fast.

Ninja Mom got up and walked into the water. She didn’t seem to care that her expensive abaya was ‎soaked. She pushed off the boy forcibly from the jet ski. He landed in the water with a stunned look and started to cry. Ninja Mom didn't seem to turn her head a bit at the crying.

Now my attention was really caught.‎

She then got on the jet ski and took off. Her face veil and extra abaya fabric flapped behind her in the ‎wind. Drats! I could have made a fortune selling the photo of a witch on water to Yamaha!‎