Chapter 7. ‘I stopped the wagon well short so as not to alarm the animal and so the man could see who I was. He stopped too, threw a leg over the pommel of the saddle, slipped down from the huge beast and we walked towards each other to shake hands. The man was but a boy, probably no more than 17, smooth skin on the part of his face I could see behind the dark head cloth, a fine fuzz of hair on his upper lip. He led his camel by a thin rope attached to a ring in its right nostril. The pair seemed to be one, almost inert, each totally calm, totally at one with their environment. I don't know if the boy had met skinny white men in odd vehicles like this before, wearing shorts, their pale uncovered legs looking curiously out of place. Straight faced, he didn't seem to know what to do. I think he was shy. ... I made the actions of pulling on a well rope and pointed to the camel. At last the young man smiled a broad understanding smile. It was wonderfully worth the wait.’

Chapter 13. ’... they had those enormous overladen roof racks that meant they comprised a tourist group – a dusty three- or foursome of grim-faced, Evian-clutching, inappropriately dressed foreigners in each vehicle peering out of even dustier windows to try to assimilate the landscape rushing by at 50 miles an hour.
'No.' I said.’