It was our final day in Sharm, spent primarily by the water. But not before a breakfast at which, though we were only five people, there were 27 threads of conversation and 92 opinions.

In slightly distressing news, I finally ate a bowl of traditional ‘ful mudamas’; cooked fava beans, to which I added tahini, diced tomatoes, onions, and hot peppers, and a bunch of freshly ground spices including (essentially a bag of) cumin. It’s a lot of fava beans. Many fava beans. So much of the fava beans.

Within moments of beginning this fava bean journey, I felt my body slowly start to rise from it’s chair. Still eating, I became suspended above the table. Because fava beans.

So I wouldn’t float away, Heba attached me to her wrist with a string. Should I not post tomorrow, it might be because the string broke and I floated over to other parts unknown.

Did I mention? All the beans.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Knowing that I will not go hungry.
2. Cumin.
3. Strangers who are not shy to engage. Like M, whom we met on our flight home, and who shared with me his own sabbatical experiences, and offered to provide any advice and guidance on any countries I might consider visiting.

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