A night in the Negev

After hours on the humming, bouncing bus, we arrived at the Bedouin camp. Surrounded by night, the only thing we could see out the windows was a sea of sand undulating alongside our coach bus. But when we finally came to a stop and stumbled down the little stairs, being awake was the easiest thing in the world.

Stars. Never in my life had I even seen so many stars sparkling above my head, seeming inches and yet miles away. It was spectacular. It was hard not to keep glancing up as we made our way to the Bedouin hospitality tent where we sat in a few small circles on little mats that separated us from the cool desert sand. Trays of pita and hummus and olives and chicken and rice made their way to our knee-high tables. The company was so delightful and the food so delicious, we had no qualms about eating to capacity and little past—especially when sticky-sweet baklava and tea came around too.

While we were nearly ready to burst, one of the leaders of the Bedouin camp came and spoke to us about Bedouin traditions and history. He told us about his love-hate relationship with technology, because of its tendency to replace certain Bedouin traditions and yet the convenience it provided. Much to our delight, he also played some music for us on a lyre-like instrument.  When he bade us goodnight, we went outside again and celebrated being in the desert with lots of goofy “birthday” games and haphazard relay races. Naturally, these were followed by songs by the campfire.

That night I fell asleep on my mat contented and exhausted; not wanting the day to end, but knowing that the morning would bring a whole new set of adventures.