Fragments

No matter how hard I try to ignore the compelling urge to drink that is making my throat parched and dry, my burning thirst gets the better of my laziness. With much effort and body protesting, I try to get out from under the arms of Morpheus, just the bare minimum effort required to reach the bottle of water.

I attempt vainly to stretch out my hand to the bedside table, but my arms do not move, nor do my legs. I feel like a larva in its cocoon waiting for the chrysalis emergence as a transformed butterfly. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I am not in my toasty and comfortable room at Monash University and, clearly, I am not a larva. I am just one of the many campers sealed in their own swags enduring the torture of sleeping on the ground, in winter, at 0°C, to be woken up at sunrise by the sun that little by little lights up Ayers Rock, like a host on stage.

When I eventually manage to open my eyes, I realize that my nose, the only part of my body left uncovered by the scarf, hood and sleeping bag, is almost frozen. From the little I can smell I clearly distinguish wet soil and acre smoke smells, which reminds me of the thin layer of ash that is covering me as a funny souvenir of the last night’s campfire. I manage to turn inside the sort of plastic sleeping bag I am trapped in just a couple of cm, all that is needed to find myself face to face with some marshmallow scraps; I really do not understand how Australians find such a treacly, chewy and sugary thing tasty! Finally, just as I am considering if it is worth facing the cold to reach my backpack, I hear a Dingo’s howl not far enough away for my liking.

A thought slowly begins to creep into my mind that something must be wrong with me and my travel companions for choosing, on purpose (and at such a quite cost), to face such a night when we could have slept in a comfortable hotel room nearby Alice Springs. That is when I glance up and for a moment I am breathless. This time the reason is not the cold, not even the fear, but the breathtaking view that is before my eyes. The milky way draws a clear line from end to end on the horizon, it is a silvery slipstream made up of thousands of stars. Suddenly I give in to the power of nature and, while I am lost in thought, time goes by without me even realizing, until the host presents his great show’s star. The majestic red monolith shows itself little by little, with exhausting slowness, as the best diva.