It’s weird how strongly I believe in karma now. I feel like the Italian looking out for me and offering me to share his accommodation for free was a moment of karma to exchange the kindness I have given to other travels. For instance, I have walked a 29 American woman to her guest house in the middle of the night to ensure that she was safe, to then walk back to my guest house alone. I have looked after various older travellers who have gotten drunk and struggled talking let alone being able to walk without holding on to me. Being quite a few years younger than them, I find these situations ironic. It’s like role reversal. Shouldn’t I be the young mess who needs looking after? Shouldn’t people make sure I’m safe in the dark? Shouldn’t I be the one vomiting due to alcohol? But it’s nice to be able to help others instead. Then when I get to their ages, I’ll take advantage of the young ones and get them to look after me in these situations.

Anyway, back to karma. When I woke up from sunrise in the desert, I decided to take a walk to the top of a sand dune. The guy who returned that morning to collect us then offered to take a picture of me with the fantastic view surrounding me. I agreed. Click went his finger on the camera. And down fell the camera lens first into the sand. This all happened in slow motion to which my eyes widened and my inner voice whined ‘Ooooooooh’. It’s strange that even though I expressed anger initially, I wasn’t too bothered as to the fact that my camera was broken and I wouldn’t be able to use it further to take any pictures. And why wasn’t I that bothered? Because instead of thinking ‘I’m so unlucky!’ or ‘Why does everything bad always happen to me?’, I just thought to myself ‘That’s karma’. It sounds strange but I honestly believed that it was karma from the bad things I have done. The things I did before I left the UK.  Things I have done since I’ve been here. Maybe being too harsh to tuk tuk drivers? But thinking this way made it so much easier to accept. At the end of the day I was safe, and well and it was just a camera after all. For those who know me, know that in England a few weeks back I  probably would have gone mental. Flipped out completely. Maybe even shed a tear or two. But I did become quite the dramatic person living in London. I seemed to react to anything and everything. I still don’t quite understand why. Was it the stress of living in London? The people I was living with? Work? Did having the contraceptive implant really have as big of an effect on my body as I blamed it to have? I still have so many unanswered questions which I am not likely to end up getting answers for.