Cacti Camels and Cyclones, oh my!

Cacti, Camels and Cyclones

The air was hot and dry, the mighty sand dunes stood arrogantly above all else in view. An oasis emerged beyond the mirage from the direction we arrived. With nothing around but a herd of sheep and camels, and a few tent-like huts this place epitomised the Hollywood director’s vision of a desert. The little less than dreary silence was broken by the sudden exclamatory sigh from my brother. At that moment I realised I was just about to spend one week of my life in the closest thing to hell this world could throw up.          
                                                                                                             
My father, the optimistic buffoon, could not help but point this realisation out to the rest of my family, granted that was not his intentions. He thought it wise to begin to so vividly describe this unholy nightmare of a “holiday”, starting with the scorching heat he believed to be toasty and ending with the unbelievably tiny huts which we would be staying in which he referred to as ‘cute’ and made sure to get every single dreadful aspect in between.          
                                                 
I soon became painfully aware of the sweat patches forming on my baby blue top and could not wait to jump into a shower, so imagine my surprise when I was told by one of the keepers that I’d have to survive a week in this natural sauna without a shower. One week. I was undoubtedly angry about this but I could not help but keep it in while I waited to watch the reaction of my mother when this piece of news had sunk in. I watched as her face went through the stages it normally goes through at moments like this; stage one: The almost complacent look on her face is slowly taken over by a look of confusion as she takes the information in; stage two: involves her head slanting 30 degrees to the right while her eyebrows crunches up to form a mega-brow. The final stage consists of her face twisting into rage and all an observer could do at this point is pray for the fool who irritated her.                              
                                                                                         
After I watched gleefully as my mother ripped the poor keeper a new one I decided to get out of the sun and into a hut for some rest. As I walked into the hut designated for myself and my sister I found myself profoundly confused on the fact that there was only one bed, in fact as I looked around the room I came to the realisation there was only one of everything. Annoyed and hungry I founded easier to discuss this when I had more willpower and some caffeine in my system.
I knew the longer I slept the quicker the week would end, and knowing my own capabilities, I was sure it would end considerably fast. It went pretty much as planned for two days before an unexpected wake up call. I remember peacefully dozing away dreaming of being at the beach when a sudden jolt rocked me off the bed and onto the floor, well onto my sister who was sleeping on the floor beside my bed.

When my eyes finally became steady, I found my eagerly awaiting father ready dressed, smiling down at me with nothing else than what I can describe as the Joker’s smile. Looking at the time I couldn’t believe my eyes. 5.15 AM. I blinked a couple of times to see if it weren’t a trick of the light or if I banged my head harder than I thought when I rolled of bed. It still read 5.15 AM. I was about to begin a long winded rant before my father, the quick thinker, cut me off with the reason why he decided to wake me up this early. We were going quad bike riding on the dunes. I don’t remember if I ever dressed as fast as I did that day, and I’m not sure I will ever be persuaded enough to ever do it again.

I remember getting onto the quad bike, starting up and roaring after my brother ahead of me. The sun had not risen completely and the weather was warm and there was a soft breeze in the air. The clear sky formed an anticyclone which created a perfect weather not natural to the desert. Weary of this but too excited to care, I continued racing up and down dunes circling my brother.

That’s when it struck. All I remember was driving off to discover a bigger dune when the odd weather took a drastic change for the worse. Winds picked up speed and soon I could not see 3 feet in front of me. Scared and unable to breathe, I tried calling out for my father but with the winds and sand made it virtually impossible. Terrified I got off the quad and squatted under it protecting my face from the winds and praying that somebody might find me sooner or later.

My eyes were shut tight for what seemed like minutes before I felt big arms scoop me up and protect my face; the scent was familiar. My father, the hero. It took us about 10 minutes to make it back into one of the huts were I was reunited with the rest of my family and the keepers. The same keeper who found himself at mother’s mercy when we first arrived apologised profusely for giving my father wrong information about the weather. As soon as my mother heard this I saw her go through her three stages of anger and all I could do was laugh about how predictable she was.

My father, the scrooge, demanded a refund for the quad bike rides and got it (only because my mum was standing right beside him) and I remember hearing my father say we will never be returning to this place.
...Thank god.