Yesterday afternoon Carl & I were hanging out at the Bdoul village sipping our laban ayran and filming the rush hour (pick-up trucks being overtaken by donkeys & camels) when a Bedouin guy named Ghassab walked past in a pink shirt and dreadlocks and kindly invited us to have dinner and spend the night at his cave with his Dutch girlfriend, Ans.
We were ecstatic about this offer, a perfect opportunity to capture their stories on film.
Half an hour drive through beautiful mountains and we arrive at Ghassabs 2,400 year old cave.
After chat and filming and fire-cooked mansaf, we decided to sleep outdoors to give some privacy to Ghassab and Ans and of course to experience the “7 star hotel” that all the Bedouins have mentioned.
The sky was incredible and it was so quiet but after hearing stories about wolves going on a rampage and killing 50 sheep and other horror stories of murderous scorpions we struggled to fall asleep. In the end, it was the frenzy of mosquitos that kept us awake till the break of dawn.
When I woke up I saw Carl’s empty sleeping bag, and his shoes were still in place but there was no sign of Carl anywhere.
After walking around a bit I saw him in this little shaded hut escaping the sun.
He looked like a POW in Yemen.
