Our two guides set up camp deep in the White Desert and we were surrounded by particularly beautiful sand-sculptures. The sun was setting and the desert changed colors every minute, from white to beige to pink and finally purple. I quickly fell asleep on a mat - I really needed a break after the activities of the past 24 hours, activities that could last anyone a week. The others wandered off and I was happy to be alone with the guides. They worked preparing dinner while I slept peacefully. I awoke to the group returning and the smell of roasting chicken.

The meal was awesome. And I'm aware that food tastes better outside because I do a lot of camping in America, however this food was really great while simple: BBQ chicken, rice, and a mixture of cooked tomatoes and potatoes. I was disappointed that the guides only served us but would not eat with us. There was certainly a communication barrier, but there was also an artificial divide that I couldn't understand. Maybe because these men do this everyday and tourists are always coming and going out of their lives - why try to communicate with us in particular?

After the meal, the guides took us to one of the many campfires dotting the landscape. This camp was particularly lively with a drumming circle and the Bedouins singing loudly into the night. They urged us to dance and everyone refused but me. I never pass up a chance to dance and I also understand that there is an entertainment exchange in these situations. When I camped with Berbers in the Sahara Desert of Morocco it was similar: they drum and you dance for them. I danced and convinced some of the others to dance too. It was wonderful.

I was disturbed by one conversation exchange between two of the other Americans. They assumed the Bedouins were making fun of us in their singing. I was not only sad that their thoughts were consumed with such negativity, but I was also sad at their projecting a bitter attitude onto the guides that seemed very kind to me. I refrained from pointing out their illogical conclusions and instead stared at the stars.

I really wished that I knew the stars better. I could pick out the constellations Scorpio, the Little Dipper, Orion, and that's it! What makes my limited knowledge particularly depressing is that I took Astronomy in college and worked as a lab aide on the telescope excursions! But, I could explain to the group was a shooting star and a binary star were. We saw many shooting stars, satellites, and constellations real and imaginary. The moon did not rise on the eastern sky until early morning, so the stars were even brighter. I fell asleep in the silence of the night with the comfort of the universe and the sand underneath my body.