Breakfast was abnormally early this morning because we had a long journey ahead. I’ve mentioned how harsh these long drives can be, but this one was set to be between 10-12 hours.
Gruelling…
After spending so much time doing next to nothing, even the smallest movement feels monumental or like an inconvenience. I just sit there… idle… in a state of pure laziness… and it gets to the point where I don’t really want to do anything at all.
This trip was wearing me down.
To prepare for the long haul, I stocked up on some distractions… a packed lunch, my book, some blog writing I needed to finish and a Netflix series to watch. I was ready for the road. Ready for the mile-munching.
While I was eating my breakfast, Kind Brian walked into the restaurant. He approached me right away and knelt down beside my chair. The expression on his face told me he had something important to say. Something shitty to say…
That night, I’d dreamt he was leaving the tour. It was just a dream, though… an absurd, nonsensical dream.
Not true.
Not real.
Or was it?
“I’m leaving the tour today,” he calmly told me. I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t messing around. This was real.
No. No. No. No.
Nooooo….
This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t leave the tour. He couldn’t leave me with these people. He was my wing man in a world of nut balls.
No way.
Brian was one of the last good ones. He was one of the decent and tolerable ones. What was I supposed to do without him? What was happening?
As it turns out, he’s decided to leave and follow the Dakar Rally which was running from January 3rd-17th.
I had to look it up…
“The Dakar Rally is a gruelling race across Saudi Arabia’s breathtaking landscapes, testing the endurance of over 800 competitors in cars, motorcycles, trucks and quads as they push through 7,700 kilometers of rally-raid hell.”
Sounds fun… and actually right up his alley… but still. Brian had finally had enough of the toxic dynamics, the drab group activities, the endless truck rides, the weirdos… all of it.
And that was that.
He was leaving.
Today.
And…
… Denise had decided to go with him…
Yes, I knew Brian had been searching for an excuse to get out. I had been too. Same with Denise. We were all unhappy. Yes, I knew this all might happen. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. It was happening… right now… and I still couldn’t quite believe it.
Brian and Denise helped pack up the luggage, waved off the truck as we drove away… and then they both disappeared.
Gone.
Gone from our lives.
I got myself on the truck…. found myself a place to sit down… and started to cry. I cried not just because I’m sensitive and can be emotional during moments like this… but because it felt a bit like sheer abandonment. I was stuck… and the truth is, despite my efforts to remain positive… I was becoming more and more miserable each day.
Everyone lovely was gone… Judy, Jeff, Caroline, Brian… even Denise… they’d all left. Now… it was just me and the chaos brigade. Me and the rolling bus of torment. I didn’t know what to do. How could I make it through another three weeks? Financially, it wasn’t a brilliant idea to leave the tour… but staying felt near impossible.
I was quiet all day… lost in thought. Who’s next to leave?
Me???
Oh well…
Onwards and upwards.
Mickey made it back from Dubai in one piece… and let me tell you… we were all still very much in the dark as to why she went. Sue tried to casually ask her at breakfast, but got no further than I had. According to Mickey, here are her reasons for spending seven hours… yes… seven hours… in Dubai…
SEVEN hours.
To withdraw cash from the bank.
To pick up cigars.
To have a few pints.
To take a break from the. group.
Ok… SaudI Arabia has some of the most advanced banking systems in the region. Cigars? If that’s the reason, then that’s gross and a frightful waste of money considering they’re available here. A few pints? If she desperately needed alcohol so badly, why not stay the night?
And why come to the driest part of the Middle East at all????
Now… number 4 might have been somewhat believable if she ever spent ANY time with the group in the first place. She doesn’t. Ever. Mickey always gets her own room… and once we arrive at any hotel, she doesn’t leave.
It’s very rare…
I recently asked Warren why she’s even here. Why bother shelling out an absurd amount of money for a months-long tour through Asia and the Middle East, only to do absolutely nothing? She claims to work out a lot, but come on… you can do that at home. The clincher? She had originally only signed up for certain section of the trip. When that portion had ended, she flew back to England… and then CAME BACK!!!!
What Warren said confirmed all my suspicions.
“She came back for Rosanna.”
This tour was getting weirder and weirder.
I’ve asked her twice why she returned to the tour… and I got two answers:
She wanted to see if being a guide was really what she wanted to do with her life.
She loves traveling more than anything and thinks being with Madventures is the best thing ever.
The true answer?
Rosanna.
She is definitely not guide material… and anyone that thinks Madventures is the best thing ever, obviously has not spent much time traveling at all.
Ok… let’s backtrack, because we all know by now that Mickey is obsessed with Rosanna. BUT… from the very beginning, I’ve suspected that Martin (our driver) and Rosanna were a couple. Perhaps “couple” is the wrong word. Let’s go with “colleagues with benefits.” They always share a room at hotels and they always share a tiny tent at campsites… which they place as far away from the rest of us as possible. In any overland tours I’ve done, the guides normally stay nearby in case something happens. They usually want to be as close to the truck as possible. Not Rosanna and Martin.
Nope.
They clearly don’t want to be around us and that’s been evident from the very beginning. If it’s not a requirement, they barely interact with the group at all.
Only Mickey.
Rosanna seems to have all the time in the world for Mickey. And Mickey? She’s completely smitten by Rosanna.
I told you this was a bizarre trip.
So… back to my assumption about Rosanna and Martin being together. Remember the intense, whispery conversation in the Nizwa taxi? From what I could hear, it was all about Martin. Then the other day, Karen made an offhand remarks that they put their tent so far away so they could be “intimate.”
Ok...
But if Rosanna and Martin are a thing, why did Mickey come back after leaving the tour?
Because she’s in love with Rosanna.
There it is.
There we have it.
Ok…
Maybe?
Now that we’ve established that we can’t figure out this tangled mess, only one big question remains… Why the hell did Mickey go to Dubai for seven hours?
Errrrr…
“As the world turns…”
Perhaps I’ll never know.
We drove and drove and drove and drove…
Karen had been making her rounds on the truck, trying to get rid of the leftover Christmas chocolates and candies. Each time she brought out the bowl, everyone would politely take one or two… but when she got to the Geisha, he would shove his grubby hands right in and grab an entire handful. Sometimes two handfuls. For someone who doesn’t “celebrate” and never contributes financially to anything… he certainly has no problem helping himself to whatever he wants. It’s unbearable.
Why couldn’t he be the one to leave?
Karma kicked my ass for thinking those thoughts though… and on one of Karen’s candy rounds, I grabbed a fruit leather treat without thinking… and it turned out to be mango. Mango and I do not get along… and I definitely paid the price. After setting up my tent, I called it an early night, retreating to my nylon home to deal with my excruciating stomach cramps in solitude.
That’s when I made a crucial decision… it’s time to start my own version of intermittent fasting on this tour. All this sitting around all day, zero exercise and excessive eating is wearing me down and significantly draining my energy. I’m commiting to three weeks… if I can. That will take me to the END of the tour.
Phewf…
The end is near.
The next day wasn’t quite as long as the previous day, but it was still a slog. The drive was actually pretty fascinating. The landscape was mostly barren and quite monotonous… but then, out of nowhere, there’d be clusters of enormous rounded pebble-ish formations - like piles of big bubble rocks - and also massive stone structures, as if giant boulders had fallen from the sky.
Inside the bus, the cracks in everyone’s patience are starting to show. Common kindness is wearing thin and true colors are beginning to shine through.
The windows are a constant battleground. Some people complain if they’re down because it’s too windy. Some people complain if they’re up because it’s too hot. Mr. Bean, in particular, hates too much wind and he’ll either start yelling and huffing and pointing… or he’ll move to other seats to escape the breeze… or (my favourite)… he’ll sit with his arms crossed, muttering furiously to himself in German, his enormous lips a’flappin’… blaming whoever it was for “making it windy.”
Despite our numbers dropping from 22 passengers to 15, and plenty of empty seats to spread out, certain people still refuse to budge. Lutz sits in the same spot every single day… and so does Mr. Meat. The front seats are always occupied by the same three… completely oblivious to the fact that some of the rest of us might want to sit there. Those culprits are Stormin’ - who always has to be first off the bus, Mickey - who has to be as close to the guides as possible… and Graham. I have no idea why Graham won’t rotate through the bus… but then again, he’s 80… so we’ll let him sit wherever he wants. Like Lutz.
Lutz is always either passed out, fiddling with his tongue or glued to cartoons on his iPad. The birders are busy birding, and the Lonely Planet readers always have their noses buried in their travel guides.
And me? I just sit here…
Marianna rumbles on as we stare out the window, watching the desert landscapes of Saudi Arabia roll by.
The journey continues…
We stopped at Al Yanfa to explore an archaeological village there, but like so many places, it was eerily deserted. From what I’ve heard… and u could be very wrong… the government relocated the residents from there in order to transform it into a tourist destination.
The problem? There were no tourists.
A rare few.
We wandered through the village, snapping photos, dodging dog shit and occasionally resting on the
brand-new benches scattered around… benches that still had their (very weathered, dirty and ripped) plastic wrapping on.
Closed.
Empty.
We were used to it all by now.
Later, we made a brief stop to take in the supposedly stunning views from Mount Soudah. Unfortunately, the thick clouds had moved in, leaving us with nothing to see… but clouds.
The real highlight of the day? The baboons. They lined the highway, nonchalantly watching us as we passed.
We arrived in Abha, the capital of Aseer Province in southwest Saudi Arabia, near the Red Sea.
I knew it was my turn to share a room with Marilyn. Ugh. I tried to stay positive, but let’s face it… I could barely muster the strength to even pretend I would be ok with it. With Denise gone, the days of an uneven number of girls (and the likelihood of the occasional solo room) were over. That fleeting moment of blissful hope had vanished…
Some people on the tour had formed consistent room-sharing duos:
~ Mr. Meat and Warren
~ Lutz and Mr. Bean
Before Kind Brian’s departure, he and Graham had always shared. Now with Brian gone, Graham was flying solo. Credit where it’s due, for an 80 year old man, he wasn’t giving up…romantically. He approached Sue about them rooming together from now on… disregarding her “my man” boyfriend, their 20-year+ age gap… and his not-so-subtle admiration for her since day one.
Sue declined his charming, yet slightly creepy offer, only to discover that Graham had already pitched the idea to Rosanna. You’ve got to give him points for persistence.
As we pulled in to park at the hotel, Sue started acting strangely. She kept making all these odd, self-important comments like, “I was asked,” and “You’ll see”… and then would proceed to act like she had all this insider knowledge the rest of us didn’t.
Asked what?
She wouldn’t say. Instead, she got even more cryptic… shrugging arrogantly and staring off dramatically with a sly smile on her face, like she was in on some big secret.
Eventually, she dropped the hint that everything would become “clear” when Rosanna announced the rooming list.
It was so weird.
Everything is weird.
For a moment, I wondered if Marilyn had asked to room with Sue to avoid me. That would have been a blessing in disguise. Then I started to get paranoid that something was going on…
Once we disembarked, Rosanna finally read the room assignments. I was placed in an apartment with Karen and Rebekah. Marilyn was with Mickey.
And Sue’s cryptic comments? Still a mystery.
Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Nothing at all.
The accommodations were apartments with two rooms… one with a double bed and one with two twins. Nothing about Sue’s behavior made any sense. I approached Tania, who told me that she and Vic had been asked who they wanted to share with. They’d said they’d prefer to share with me… but Rosanna told them they couldn’t have me because “I wanted my own room.”
Wait… what?
Ok… yes… I would like my own room. Who wouldn’t? But no… that’s not the point! In my text to Rosanna, I’d simply inquired about the possibility of upgrades and the room rotation when we had an uneven number of girls. I’d never outright demanded my own room. As much as I’d love my own room, this whole situation was completely blown out of proportion when it shouldn’t have been.
I approached Rosanna right away… to clear all of this up. I didn’t want to come off as greedy and demanding. She explained that she’d arranged the rooms like this so that I could specifically have the double room for a couple of nights, just because I’d been one of the only ones to come forward.
Ok…
I could take that.
And I would take that.
My own room for two nights?
Bliss…
True bliss…
Karen, Rebekah and I walked into the apartment. As promised, there was one room with a double bed and an ensuite, and another with two twin beds.
The place was massive… easily the best accommodation we’d had so far. Along with the bedrooms, it had a full living room, two bathrooms, an enormous enclosed outdoor patio and a fully equipped kitchen WITH laundry facilities!!!
Yippee!!!!
I stood there… awkwardly hesitating to claim the double bed, even though I’d been explicitly told it was mine. I didn’t want to come across as greedy.
“Why don’t we flip for it?” I suggested, thinking that fair was fair.
Before the words even settled in the air, Karen breezed past me, walked straight into the double room, threw her stuff on the bed, and declared, “I’ll take this room.”
Ok…
Foiled again. Into the twin beds room Rebekah and I went. Rebekah looked at me and said, “Rosanna told me you were to have that room.”
Oh well.
I’ll admit, part of this was my fault. I was the first up the stairs with my luggage, easily beating Karen and her bad hip. But instead of taking full advantage of my head start, I held the door open for her… out of kindness.
Big mistake.
I should’ve known better, considering she’d shown me no kindness when I’d fractured my wrist.
With me holding the door, Karen sauntered in first and made a beeline for the double room. Her lack of awareness for anyone else is staggering. She doesn’t see anything but herself… and she certainly doesn’t care about any of us.
I should’ve shot for the room… but guaranteed, I would’ve heard about it.
The worst part? Karen is addicted to the television. She is one of those people that can lie there and mindlessly watch it all day… on full volume. The apartment had a huge TV in the living room… and when I peeked into her room, I saw she had one in there too.
Perfect.
She could watch TV in her own double room while Rebekah and I enjoyed some peace in our living room.
Nope.
Karen didn’t even turn on the TV in her bedroom. Instead, she parked herself in front of the living room screen, cranked up the volume and stayed there nearly the entire time we were in Abha. Rebekah and I ended up having to escape to our room, trying to drown out the noise and relax on our single beds.
This woman is something else.
Bloody Karen.
And what was all Sue’s cryptic drama all about?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Rosanna had simply asked her to share an apartment with Warren and Mr. Meat. For two nights, Sue got her own room with an ensuite.
That’s what she was “asked.”
That’s it.
Oh, and Mickey?
Still no clue why she went to Dubai.
… and my wrist is almost healed 🩷
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