That was the very first time I camped outside in a tent. Being a city dweller my whole life, I was absolutely terrified of the very idea of spending a night in a tent.
No shower. No proper bed. No running water. No walls. No roof above. No windows to enjoy the nature outside. No floor. No electricity. No sanitation facilities! Actually, almost a total abandonment of civilization — why in hell give all these precious things (walls, roof, windows, floor etc.) away voluntarily?
Besides, camping as such always had way too romantic a tinge for me, romantic in a bad way. I thought, enjoying nature by day is quite enough, and for sleeping we (the people) have invented a phenomenon called ‘hotel’. But I couldn’t persuade my dear buddy to stay at a hotel, as that would kill the entire joy of traveling for him. So I decided to sacrifice myself by not spoiling my buddy’s vacation too much.
And God, it turned out to be nice! That night I felt something forgotten long ago, something I had felt as a kid, lying in the grass by the river, staring in the sky full of glowing stars. This feeling was probably the most surprising one among many other feelings one has when spending a night in a desert, as my first night in a tent happened to be in the Joshua Tree desert.
I can still remember the dream I had that night. It was an recurring dream lasting through the night, a dream of a mountain lion eating my head through the tent.
