Waking up at 2:00 am, feeling excitement and anticipation, my group and me left our hostel at St. Catherine and headed to the foot of Mt. Sinai to experience the sunrise from the biblical mountain. Wasting no time, I boastingly told my then travel buddy that I might have to go ahead of her at some point during the climb, probably with a little smirk, as I wanted to get the best view of the sunrise. I hurriedly trekked the rocky mountain, smoothly passing the camels, locals and other travelers, with an imposing “you’re too slow, so I’m cutting you” bravado.
Thinking that nothing could stop me, as things were going my way, I was then surprised when one of the camel guides shouted “shiwaya-shiwaya”, bit-by-bit in Arabic. I halted, looked back, felt slightly embarassed, and smiled to thank him. There I was, almost at the top of the mountain, trying to recall and regain the journey of climbing up. I then slowed down and took the time to see, to feel and to know that I will be at the right place, at the right time. I was basking from it all.
At the top of Mt. Sinai, exhausted but ecstatic, I sat on the dirt and waited patiently.
Ever constant, ever timeless; my adventure partner started to rise, shiwaya-shiwaya.
Ever constant, ever timeless; my adventure partner started to rise, shiwaya-shiwaya.
