Nostalgia.

I was watching Around The World in 80 Days, by Michael Palin, recently. What a great experience. The series was filmed just after the Iran-Iraq war had ended, around Ocotber 1988. The episode I loved was the one where Palin travelled through Saudi Arabia, into Dubai, and onward on a dhow to India. Even though there was only a fleeting glimpse of Dubai in the background, the sights (or lack of them) cajoled all my stored memories back from their neural repositories.

The UAE of my childhood was made up of dusty, one-camel towns scattered along the western coastline. I lived in the dustiest, no-camel town of Ajman with my parents, brother and little much else to keep me company. In fact, if you were from the area, I am in no doubt you would know my parents, but I will not give away those details so easily in one posting (maybe slowly over time).
I lived by the sea. In fact, looking out of my bedroom window I remember that I could see the crystal clear aquamarine water, and the spotless white sand that made up that idyllic beach. I was never alone as a child, even if human company was sometimes a little thin on the ground. The world was my companion. The birds, insects, sand, earth, grass, trees, dogs, cats, lizards would all conspire to keep this young boy happy. It was our big secret, and if anybody came out of the house to check on me, in a flash all these partners-in-crime would vanish.
When I was younger, and much smaller, the earth gave up its secrets to me. The leaves would whisper in my ears, the grass would tickle my toes, the insects would transmit their thoughts. Bushmen experience similar symptoms, after living with nature for many years. They do not think anymore, they simply are. My faunal friends were the orchestra and I was their conductor. And what a bloody great show it was.