DailySusan Humor Blog

A DESERT WOLF CHILLS OUT

A writer friend of mine just spent several nights camped out in the desert of southern Israel with a group of about 15 strangers from all over the world. The experience thoroughly beats our typical family vacations for multiculturalism and unconventional adventure.

She wrote about eating Shayah, a Bedouin bread mentioned in the Bible as a “cake baked on ashes,” and it was – dough thrown right on the campfire ashes with two handfuls of desert dust tossed on top, then embedded in sticks and brush. I’ve had days like that, when I was pretty . . . burned out . . . on cooking. But, she said, it was amazingly delicious.

A sandstorm forced them to camp in a remote wadi basin deep inside a canyon by a dry riverbed. Let Cindy tell the rest:

A lunch table was spread in the wilderness under an acacia tree.

“After-dinner campfire stories had the effect of weaving our group together in the flicker and flare of lanterns. Amid the jumble of sleeping bags, windbreakers, and layers of clothing . . . we were building new layers of community which would last in our memories years after this blustery beginning. We slept completely enclosed in our downy burrows to fend off the winds whipping around us. The haze cleared to reveal a stellar expanse punctuated by a nearly full moon that danced off the desert terrain. This was the ‘Million Stars Hotel.’

“Stealthy furry raiders pillaged the camp that night and made off with a small backpack containing a jar of peanut butter, honey, M&M’s, and a pair of expensive Maui sunglasses. Gary awoke to a clanging clatter of cookware at 3:30 in the morning and sat bolt upright. Before he could aim a flashlight at the source of the racket, a shadowy blur the size of a German shepherd rocketed over the end of our sleeping bag into the darkness of a nearby ravine. . . .

“Some foxy wolf must be sporting the backpack and the Maui sunglasses among his desert canine crowd.”

Now, that’s a picture, isn’t it? They say the desert attracts real characters. . . .