I’M IN A BLOGGING MOOD.
No really, this is uncalled for. Four posts in two days?! This is like eating macaroni and cheese for four days straight. You are bound to get sick of me (I mean my posts) and secretly want to throw up at my face (I mean my blog).
Or maybe that’s just me.
Anyway, I figure I’ll continue with my amazing Hajj adventure, and cut the story short.
Because I think I’ve been typing nonsense in those last four—or was it three, or five? Uhh—posts.
(I’m a math genius, and a splendid memorizer, but my brain decided to rebel out of a sudden)
(yes you shall be sick of my ever-so-often self-praising)
(okay maybe I should cut down the self-praising as well)
(and the blabber)
(which reminds me, I should stop writing in these brackets)
ANYWAY.
I SAW THE BREAD OF ARAB!
There’s nothing to be excited about really, since I practically eat it everyday, but something about discovering edible breakfast made my heart leaps with joy.
Not that biscuits aren’t edible, but given my history with recent biscuits puking…not in the mood AT ALL.
So we quickly grabbed the bread, (because everyone was like, took a bite and left the leftover there, yes yes quite disgusting) and was about to grab the curry, when we noticed that it was all gone.
Except for those leftovers, where people took a bite of the bread, dipped it into the curry, and left it there. On the table. Leftovers. Definitely.
My reaction at the time was…
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
Not verbally, of course.
And I was so looking forward to that curry, because it smelled oh so yummy.
That, and it was one of the edible breakfast.
Such a waste, but nothing could be done, except for inhaling the delicious aroma of the curry…that came from the leftovers.
In fact, the aroma tempted me so much that I was even contemplating on grabbing the leftovers. No one could tell. It’ll be just one of my secrets. And my sister’s. And those people who passed by and saw my uncouth manners. Not like they cared.
But nah, it didn’t worth the effort.
After several minutes idling in the canteen, waiting for the staff to restock the curry, only to be disappointed that it won’t happen, we decided to grab some cheese and what looked to be fresh olives and several jams and headed back to our camp.
There, everyone hadn’t taken their breakfast yet, only their morning coffees, so having the mighty bread, we shared it with them, since it was fairly large.
And bland.
Good thing we managed to snatch some cheese and strawberry jams. Oh, and honey as well. And I nearly forgot the milk! Yes, milk. So I took a sip of the milk, and thought, hmm…
Well, bear in mind, living in KSA has spoiled my taste buds. I think the foods here are supremely delish. Very fresh, very concentrated, and in fact, everyday, I drank fresh milk, fresh yogurt, 100% strawberry juice, and several other awesome beverages.
Told you about spoiled taste buds.
So then, I sipped the milk, and thought…
OH NO POWDER MILK ALERT.
I’m not a big milk-drinker. One of the reasons was that milk tasted so awful, like those powder mixed with water.
Which is basically it.
Therefore, you should know that drinking fresh milk is definitive heavenly—the taste is like a concentrated milky substance—okay, I suppose it tastes like milk.
But the powder milk doesn't taste like milk!
Despite having 'milk' in its name.
Anyway, I tried to force it down, but by the time I reached a quarter of it, I gave up.
My mother was obviously very mad at me. At rejecting a substance that will give me stamina and energy of course. Not because of the wastage. Because if you can't shove it down, don't force it! Unless you want to burst it up.
But anyway, I countered, “I don’t want to puke again!”
Which is quite true, by the way.
Upon hearing my reply, my mother didn’t say a thing, continuing with her tea, while my sister kept on nibbling those cheeses. Lots of my camp companions decided to take a shower (which, at the time, I discovered that we did have shower after all, wherever that is) and my mother urged me to have one as well, but the long line of humans sent shivers down my spine, so I said, “Umm…I think I will sleep first.”
My mother gave me the green light, and off I went to the land of dreams.
And dreamed of…
Hey! This is one of the most interesting things that happened during my Hajj trip. I don’t think I dreamed at all when sleeping in Mina.
And seriously, sleeping in Mina is extremely comforting (despite sleeping on a short sofabed, and I have quite long legs…to the point that I was often the one in charge of switching the lights, because the location of the switch was very, very hard to reach). Never had I feel so relaxed and rejuvenated!
Truly a precious memory.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, I will end this post.
Because…
Well I guess this post is kind of crazy.
I will write better next time. Perhaps more seriously? Yes. :D
Well, until then. XD
P/S: Oh so this the fifth Hajj post! Noticed that while typing the title heh XD
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