Category: Adventure

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Beyond the Lawrence Myth: Gaining Insight into the Distortion of Narrative

If I could assign this unit’s readings to anyone, I would assign them to my girlfriend Nikola. Her curiosity about Lawrence in Lahore sparked an interest in understanding the real T.E. Lawrence, but most portrayals present him as a mythologized hero of the British Empire. Our unit’s readings complicate that heroic image and provide a fuller sense of Lawrence as a complex, at times contradictory, figure.

A central text to begin with would be Seven Pillars of Wisdom, which reveals Lawrence’s contemplative voice and the internal contradictions he carefully constructs and performs. Pairing that with Raili Marling’s “Masculinity in the Margins” would show how Lawrence struggled to fully embody the masculine, heteronormative ideals of his era. Together, these readings would sharpen her understanding of the tension dramatized in Lawrence in Lahore, especially the gap between the public-facing, confident Lawrence and the private Lawrence, whose letters (including The Gay Love Letters of Lawrence of Arabia) describe shame, self-punishment, and discomfort with the heroic narrative imposed on him.

More broadly, reading about Lawrence, an accomplished figure, might make her feel empowered to leave her comfort zone and embark on “adventure”, as Lawrence himself did, and as a queer person, she would appreciate seeing how his time viewed homosexuality – a way of understanding the emotional cost of navigating queer identity within rigid imperial structures. Further, understanding empire from a different perspective (the British Empire, and its interactions with the Middle East), would provide insight on why this region remains unstable today, and a perspective outside of the typical Eurocentric narrative.

By studying Lawrence’s writings alongside biographies and media which re-interpret him, it becomes clear how imperial icons are constructed, edited, and continually developed for new audiences. Nikola often asks me how people “can be so stupid” as to fall for political cults of personality, and the Lawrence myth offers a concrete example of this process. His myth was manufactured and commodified during his lifetime by figures like Lowell Thomas, then posthumously spun by later biographers and filmmakers, who each built their own portrait of Lawrence to suit various political and cultural ends. Overall, I think that the Lawrence readings would be a compelling experience for her, and help her investigate questions about contemporary media and politicizing – and especially, how narratives are twisted and changed long after their creators are gone.

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My Yelp Review of Theeb

Hello my fellow yelpers! I recently watched the 2014 period drama thriller, “Theeb”. Written and directed by Naji Abu Nowar, the film premiered at the 71st Venice International Film Festival. This movie, unlike many shot in a similar area, picturing a similar time period, is completely in Arabic (with the exception of a few English words spoken by the British soldier (played by Jack Fox) sent to blow up the railway). Nowar also only used non-professional actors from the Bedouin community in Southern Jordan. This also differs from the norm in movies about this time period, namely in Lawrence of Arabia (1962) where Prince Feisal (an Arab character) is played by Alec Guinness (random white dude). 

The very interesting and very notable aspect of this movie is the absence of women. Originally I came to the conclusion that Nowar was simply a sexist. However, upon further research I discovered that Nowar was planning for there to be women in the movie but none of the Bedouin women in the community they were filming were willing to be in the movie. Nowar didn’t want to lose any authenticity by bringing in professional actors, which led to the whole no women thing. 

The plot line is very simple: Theeb and his older brother help guide Edward, a British soldier, through the desert, they are ambushed and Theeb is the only survivor, one of the attackers becomes friends with Theeb, they set off the two of them, and the movie ends with Theeb killing the attacker (“because he killed my brother” as Theeb says to Ottoman guards). The last scene of the movie watches Theeb riding off into the desert on a camel he has now learned how to corral (I always appreciated how Theeb was able to cling onto the back of a camel, FOR HOURS, the strength that he has is astou

nding). Honestly, my biggest issue with the film is that I was worried and am still worried about what happened to Theeb after the movie. How did he survive on his own in the desert? Where did he go? The unfinished ending left

me slightly frustrated. 

I would 100% recommend this movie to anyone, especially those who have watched Lawrence of Arabia. It provides a very different perspective to many of the movies that depict the time period. Not only does having the entire movie be spoken in Arabic change it, but using non-professional actors also adds nuance. It takes away the “oriental glow” that surrounds the whole Lawrence of Arabia type of story and allows viewers to actually see the Arab perspective during this time. Nowar alludes to the very real struggles that Arab guides had during the Ottoman Empire with the installation of the Hejaz Railroad. Also, Wadi Rum and Wadi Araba are beautiful and Nowar’s cinematography is excellent. I truly compel you all to watch this, it was a very interesting watch and one that changed the perspective on the time period. 

See you next week with the next movie, yelper fam!

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TE Lawrence & True Blood’s Sookie Stackhouse: Love Bites!

True Blood is set in a world where vampires have recently come out of hiding due to the scientific advancement of a synthetic blood, True Blood. Sookie begins the show as a beautiful, innocent town weirdo. Everyone knows she can read minds, and in fact, she hates the trait herself. However, she realizes she cannot read the minds of vampires, and thus begins her many dramatic vampire affairs. The lore eventually grows and it is revealed that Sookie is a mindreader because she is part fairy (the show’s getting really bad
), which makes her blood alluring to vampires. Here is where my parallel really begins. 

Lawrence, perhaps more than our other spies, was able to manage a balance of being an insider-outsider. While he donned an Arab drag, he wasn’t pretending to be Arab. He was able to travel between worlds because of his “ability to penetrate the inner self of the Arab individual” (Mousa 5). In relation to Arabs then, Lawrence had to be different. He was not one of the in-group; his relationships with Arabs was rooted in individuality, the recognition of difference. Like he says, “I can understand it enough to look at myself and other foreigners from their direction, and without condemning it. I know I’m a stranger to them, and always will be: but I cannot believe them worse, any more than I could change their ways” (Lawrence quoted in Garnett 156). Strangely, Sookie mirrors this insider-outsisder paradigm in her relationships with vampires. She can easily slip into their world because she is different. She doesn’t want to become a vampire or adopt their lifestyle, but they give her a reference point of normalcy–what she finds alluring about them. Furthermore, Sookie uses her ability to mind read to spy for vampires. She occupies human space (she visually appears human, can daywalk, and her power is invisible), but can also traverse the vampire world because of her fairy powers (which are based in light, and can therefore hurt vampires), her connections to the in-group, and the promise of her allure. She is both sympathetic and aggravating. She uses others, but gets used, and treats herself as the center of the universe. Her favorite line is: “If our relationship ever meant anything to you, you’d do this for me.”

Lawrence is somewhat the same. Mousa’s An Arab View and Theeb portrayed Lawrence as much less powerful than other iterations of his tale. He was simply a man in the right place at the right time with the right connections. Whatever role he did play in the Arab Revolt, it was exaggerated. He made promises he could not keep and we’ll never know if he actually thought he could make them happen. He used the Arabs for his own psychosexual, sado-masochistic exploration of the self through the east. He was a vampire! In the same way Sookie is, at least. Sookie spies for vampires but because she cannot read their intentions, often finds herself in situations where she has been cornered, manipulated, and even extorted by the very vampires she is psychosexually, sado-masochistially obsessed with (think: biting and blood, vampires are inherently tied to the concept of pain/consumption, fine line of pleasure/pain). Like Lawrence, she is both spy and insider-outsider, although she’s generally the one who ends up losing. I’d also argue she is sexually exploited in a way Lawrence was able to exploit others because of his rank. His gay love letters are described by Norton as “love letters from a slave to his master.” It brings up the question, how much information can one relationship have before it becomes exploitative? Could Sookie ever have a relationship with a vampire that doesn’t have a ridiculous power imbalance? With a human? Could Lawrence ever do the same with Arabs he claimed to love and work for? With his beloved Dahoum?

Spying necessitates betraying others, but in that, it must be wondered if that also means betraying oneself. Can one really love a person (or people) they exploit? It might be a reach, but to some extent all spy stories are vampiric.

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Rewriting Stark

My Passage: “The woman in the baths possessed the inimitable quality of a ghost: blurred against the sun, swallowed by the horde of us congregating. A veil clung to her neck. Her bareness still seemed wanting. Outside the realm of novelty, there was not much explanation for what drew her to us but if one were to exist, it would be not how she looked as much as her looking.  I understood her gaze was not a gaze as much as it was a way to see nothing. She was not French, at least not entirely. The woman in front of us was instead a stranger, at once cowed by her shadow and utterly at ease, leaning away from her guide to pronounce, with feeling, her answer to our nonverbal query — she was a Brit, a friend. This was as interesting to me as it was uninteresting. What had interested me most in this exchange was the unsaid: which end she sought fixed to the Damascan mean. Or maybe the unsaid remained something else entirely. After she took her formal photograph, she leapt the threshold. Her body swayed back but returned no looking. I did not know if she had ever been a girl. I did not yet know if she knew it was possible to love something so dearly and wrongly, that your body bent helplessly toward your beloved’s opposite end, with no will toward one’s own loving.”

Original Passage:  “They had all come up so close to me and I thought them a villainous-looking crowd. Someone murmured to the old man: “French?” “English,’ said I hastily: “we are your people’s friends.” This had an extraordinarily soothing effect on the atmosphere. I asked if they would mind moving away from me for the picture, which they did in silence. When I had taken it I thanked the man who seemed master of the bath and turned to my old man to have the door unfastened: this also was done in complete silence, but just as I was stepping out two or three of them asked me to turn back and look over the baths. This you may imagine I did not do. I was very glad to have that door open, though I suppose it was all really quite all right. I wish now I had taken the picture with more care, for I don’t imagine any European has been in that particular place before.” (Letters from Syria, 76)

Analysis:

What I consider most essential in my transformation of Stark’s writing is the reorientation of perspective: centering the “villainous-looking crowd” rather than Stark herself. In doing so, the scene becomes a counter-expression of the original encounter, told through the eyes of a native who possesses equal power to observe and judge Stark, just as she admires and pities the Levant. This narrative choice preserves the single-person perspective of Stark’s writing while reconfiguring it to welcome the polyphonic voice of the colonial subjects she sought to describe. The counter-grammar of my palimpsest renders autonomous and singular the people who, in Stark’s words, exist only as a monolithic crowd.

Even more significantly, the unnamed colonial subject finds the ability to occupy Stark’s positionality — even to sympathize with her as he dissects her “dear and wrong love.” This reciprocity exposes what Stark’s narrative omits: the colonial asymmetry at the heart of travel writing, in which the Western traveler seeks to know “the people” but cannot imagine being equally known by them. The observer fever dreams the Orient while refusing to see it as a mirror reflecting the hypocrisy of her gaze. Yet the palimpsest is careful not to condemn her; the narrator pays attention to Stark’s hybrid identity — French or not, knowing or unknowing—and emphasizes the fluidity of selfhood in the colonist-colonized relation, along with the vulnerability inherent in human connection. Both are elements Stark’s original text leaves unaddressed (by design, of course) and thus my intervention fleshes out a response to these omissions.

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Freya Stark and Freudian Psychology

In Passionate Nomad, Jane Geniesse ranges from implying to outright diagnosing Freya’s adult choices and tendencies as a result of her tumultuous childhood. Her desire to please? A consequence of being devoted to a narcissistic mother. Her love for the outdoors? Her father’s influence in making her walk through the woods alone. Her love for extravagances? A need to offset the poverty she grew up in. Her desire for freedom and exploration? The result of her helplessness while sequestered in Italy. The list goes on and on, and wrapped within the layers of her psyche appears to be an interlocking relationship between the Freudian idea of domesticity and childhood with the gendered fantasy of the East. 

Alice in Wonderland, or originally, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll is largely regarded as a metaphor for a young girls’ psychosexual self-discovery. Written in 1871 and an instant literary classic, it feels a bit divinely coincidental when Freya writes in Perseus and the Wind, “Whatever the ultimate origins, the book of Genesis gives a summary of the repeated story: delight in external things, and then human hunger for truth beyond. Eve, Psyche, Pandora, they would look, not, like the Lady of Shalot, away home the mirror, but through it, to see what is hidden behind the moving show: until the face of things becomes an impedi- ment to them and a torment, a barrier to the simplicity of truth.” Here, Stark equates herself with mythical figures of creation and exploration, but the critical lens we’ve applied to her in class makes her out rather to be the young Alice: bumbling through Wonderland, running away from the confines of mundane life, chased by some fear and ghost of her childhood. This analogy sets up how, in the minds of female colonial explorers such as Stark, the East functioned as a psychosexual space of “self-discovery.” In a world where every action was policed, freedom only existed and fantasy, and the East was a living embodiment. On some level this mentality persists even today, with common tropes of mid-life crisis prompting a trip to India

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Freya Stark Playlist: What She Missed

Honestly, the more I read Freya Stark and watched the films about her, the more uneasy I felt. She’s clearly brilliant and bold (there’s no denying that) but something about her voice never sits right with me. She notices everything, but it’s like she never actually feels what she’s seeing. There’s a constant distance, as if she wants to understand the world, but only on her own terms, only while she’s still the one holding the map.

So I made this playlist to respond to what she couldn’t say, what she couldn’t feel.

1) Marcel Khalife – “Ummi (My Mother)”

(Linked to: Letters from Syria and Beyond Euphrates)

In Letters from Syria and Beyond Euphrates, Stark walks through Damascus and Baghdad describing every detail: the graveyards, the veils, the “three separate quarters.” She’s observant to the point of precision, but she never really steps inside what she’s seeing. When I listen to Khalife’s “Ummi (My Mother),” that distance completely disappears. His voice feels like warmth, like home. When he sings, “I long for my mother’s bread, my mother’s coffee,” it’s belonging. Khalife makes what Stark calls “the Orient” feel human again. He sings from within what she only describes. Reading her after hearing him, I realized how often she confuses curiosity for connection.

2) Ahmad Kaabour – “Ounadikum (I Call to You)”

(Linked to: Passionate Nomad, Chapter 19)

There’s one line from Passionate Nomad that stuck with me: “It hardly made sense to make the Palestinians pay with their homes and lands for injuries done to Jews by European Christians.” She’s right, but she says it like an observer writing a report, not someone grieving a people’s loss. Ahmad Kaabour’s “Ounadikum” is the exact opposite of that. When he sings, “I call to you, my people,” it’s urgent, not detached. His voice makes her writing feel distant, like moral language without emotion. Stark’s “they” never becomes “we,” and that’s the difference.

3) Fairuz – “Zahrat al-Madā’in (The Flower of the Cities)”

(Linked to: Passionate Nomad and her 1944 press comments)

When Stark writes about Jerusalem, she does it with a kind of calm that’s almost cold. She calls it “friction between Jews and Arabs,” as if she’s describing weather. Fairuz’s “Zahrat al-Madā’in” destroys that calm completely. When she sings, “Jerusalem, flower of cities,” it’s both a prayer and a cry. You can feel the heartbreak in every word. She aches, grieves, and feels (unlike Stark who seems to only be analyzing).

4) Tracy Chapman – “Talkin’ ’Bout a Revolution”

(Linked to: Freya Stark’s 1944 press tour comments)

During her 1944 press tour, Stark calls the Arabs “the rightful owners of Palestine,” which sounds bold until you realize she’s still speaking as part of the British machine that made the whole crisis possible. She names the problem but never challenges the power behind it. Tracy Chapman’s “Talkin’ ’Bout a Revolution” is like that silence finally breaking open. Chapman doesn’t stop at moral awareness; she pushes toward change. Her song says what I wish Stark had the courage to: not just this is wrong, but this must end.

5) Le Trio Joubran – “Masār” 

(Linked to: Towards the Unknown Land – Nepal)

In Stark’s final film, she’s carried through the mountains of Nepal by a team of porters. She looks fragile but composed, smiling faintly as she says, “If it fails, it fails.” The moment is framed as graceful acceptance: an aging traveler facing limits with humility. However, to me, it felt like comfort disguised as wisdom. Even at the end of her life, she’s still being carried (literally) by others whose presence is unnamed. Le Trio Joubran’s “Masār” sounds like that scene. It’s beautiful, but it refuses peace. It feels like remembering something you can’t fix. When I listen to it, I imagine it filling the silence in Stark’s film: not judging her, but not forgiving her either. Just holding her quietness up to the light and asking what’s underneath it. It made me think about how reflection isn’t the same as reckoning. Stark reflects endlessly (on landscapes, people, herself) but her reflections never really cost her anything. Masār feels like what real reckoning would sound like: the moment when beauty stops protecting you, and you finally have to sit with what you’ve done.

 

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Freya Stark– Writings Reflected in Beautiful Music

Freya Stark has been the (if not one of) most intellectually stimulating, accomplished, and devoted spies that we have encountered thus far in our seminar. This playlist will be curating some songs that echo this moral and emotional landscape of Freya Stark’s writings and discussions we’ve had over the last 3 weeks, especially towards her ambivalent stance between devotion and exile as well as humility and power. These songs will be reflecting her own cross-cultural sympathies and her layered identity. I think Freya Stark is a really interesting individual, her loyalties will ultimately is always towards Great Britain, but her complexities in how she sees the Arab World and her seeing faith as beauty in everyday life rather than a dogma makes me view her with a more ethical and reliable lens (although we do have our critiques). Her ability to craft her own story through her own choosing and focusing on her travels makes her a great person to analyze.

“Aaj Jane Ki Zid Na Karo” – Farida Khanum (1960s, poet was Fayyaz Hashmi)

This ghazal’s entreaty “Don’t insist on leaving today” encapsulates the sorrow of transience that permeates Letters from Syria and Perseus in the Wind. In our class discussions, we explored how Stark’s existence fluctuates between belonging and departure, between service and solitude. Khanum’s voice embodies that same duality: restraint, longing, and quiet dignity. Similar to Stark’s prose, it avoids sentimentality while brimming with emotion. The song’s languorous rhythm reflects Stark’s evenings in Damascus or Baghdad, moments caught between closeness and distance, faith and exile. It transforms into an anthem for her moral restlessness: desiring to remain, yet aware that she must perpetually move forward.

“El Helwa Di” – Sayed Darwish

The class emphasized Stark’s admiration for “ordinary service”, her belief that empire fails when it strips people of dignity or agency. Darwish’s song about Cairo’s morning workers gives life to that idea. “Empire redeemed through care.” In Baghdad Sketches, Stark likewise finds holiness in ordinary acts: women baking bread, men sweeping courtyards at dawn. The song reflects her conviction that service ennobles the human spirit and that true civilization is measured not by empire, but by small kindnesses. The song’s gentle strings embodies the grace present within empire as seen through Stark’s eyes, strength for the Arab world lies in its humanity and hospitality not its politics the way the British does. However, Stark still uses moral language to critique empire from within. In Passionate Nomad, Geniesse captures this tension: Stark defends Britain’s Arab policy while privately empathizing with Arabs betrayed by the post-WWI settlement.

“Desert Rose” – Sting ft. Cheb Mami

Cheb and Sting’s English and Arab duet creates the same cultural duality as seen through Letters from Syria. This song represent the constant back and forth with the East and the West, reasoning and reverence. Stark is noted to be “morally exiled”, too Western to belong to the East and too “Eastern”/changed in her perspectives to return and be content at home. This song is the exile to everything she is, perfectly framing Stark as sensual, distant, yearning, yet still patriotic. Stark once wrote, “The desert does not separate; it teaches us the beauty of distance.” Stark’s fascination with Arab “service” and her writings that accustomed affectionate realism rather than Orientalist distance, however she still had her 1930s British views as seeing British’s roles as a moral tutor of the Arabs.

“Riverside” – Agnes Obel

Reflective, quiet, sorrowful, mirroring the tone of Perseus in the Wind where Stark is contemplating beauty, life, aging, and faith. Solitude of travel, the river representing her travels and what she’s saying. Obel sings how she “sees how everything is torn in the river deep. And I don’t know why I go the way down by the riverside..” analogous to Stark and her travel writings and her “feminine ethics of observation”. “The world’s beauty,” Stark wrote, “is the highest service a soul can render.” “Riverside” sounds like the stillness of that service. Stark’s gender and her perspective is very much seeing feminine virtues redeeming imperial contact and this process of her continuing to embody empathy and service through her stops and in conjunction with this song, the analogy of her travels to being along the river.

“Arrival of the Birds” – London Metropolitan Orchestra

While this song is purely instrumental, it is fitting for it to be regarded as Freya Stark’s ultimate life theme song. Stark’s numerous writings can be regarded as the lyrics as her writings have been grand, full of rich text to be deciphered, ultimately mimicking the feeling of returning home changed. The tone of the song is very grand, dignified, tapered right as it would approach arrogance. The song invokes discovery, wonder, and the quiet till of achievement. In Perseus in the Wind, she wrote that “the human spirit grows only when challenged,” and this song embodies that belief. It’s not victory by domination, but victory through understanding. This piece encapsulates her quiet ventures from her childhood struggles to her early travels to her dignified later years as Dame Freya Stark.

 

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An Uncomfortable Journey with Freya Stark

*while writing this, I did take some creative liberties so this Freya is based on real Freya

If I had to choose a travel companion from our readings, I would pick Freya Stark herself. I do not think she would be pleasant company, but the discomfort would be instructive. I imagine u somewhere in contemporary Baghdad, a city she knew intimately in the 1930s, now transformed beyond her recognition.

We would share a talent for observation but diverge completely in what we do with it. Whereas Stark collected details about women’s jewelry and Bedouin customs, I would be watching her watch them. I would note her gaze even as she would be in casual conversation. She would probably find me frustratingly direct with the way I would keep asking her about her work with Stewart Perowne and Adrian Bishop. I would also ask her about those cocktail parties at South Gate while Iraq burned with nationalist fervor.

The tension would be palpable in the markets she once wandered through in disguise. She would want to show me the hidden corners she discovered, the nocturnal Ramadan celebrations she witnessed. There, I would keep pointing out the British Embassy, the old intelligence offices, and the sites of colonial violence. When she would try to romanticize the Bedouin “raw and traditional,” I would remind her of the cruel things she justified.

What we would have in common is curiosity. We both have a restless need to understand how societies work. Where her curiosity served empire, mine would serve its unraveling. She would probably recognize in me the same stubborn independence. But she would hate how I would use that independence to question everything she stood for.

The trip would end badly, I think. Maybe at one of those archaeological sites she loved to claim as “discoveries.” Those many ruins she bragged about visiting alone. I would ask her what gave her the right to “discover” places people had been living in for millennia. She would call me ungrateful, claiming that she had preserved so much knowledge. When we would part ways, we would each be convinced the other had missed the point entirely.

In the end, though, I would learn something valuable from traveling with her: how empire’s most effective agents are not the obvious villains, but the complicated and talented people who genuinely love what they are helping to control.

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My Day with Gertrude in Petra

*I am going to do a different take on this prompt and imagine my vacation to Petra in Jordan with Gertrude Bell in the modern day. It imagines a portion of our day as we walk through the ruins. Italicized text was taken out of readings we did in class.

 

It’s a hot and windy day in Jordan. Gertrude and I are on the third day of our week-long vacation through the ruins of Jordan. We are currently in Petra. Gertrude refuses to wear modern-day dress, instead choosing to wear the same muslin gowns that her mother, Florence, had sent her throughout her time in Baghdad. Crowds of people surround us, tourists with their families. Men and women are dressed in over-the-top Oriental outfits, selling trinkets and camel rides to the tourists. It is safe to say that it was a typical day in Petra (at least in the modern day Petra). I am unfazed by the bustle, but when I look over to Gertrude her face tells a completely different story. 

 

“This place used to be a fairy tale city, I camped amid a row of ornate tombs, three stories high, what has happened to this place?” she asked me with a disgusted look on her face. I laugh, telling her that this is normal. As we make our way through the crowd, Gertrude walks with her nose in the air, ignoring everyone around her. We are approached by a man dressed in bedouin attire. When he begins to speak to us in English Gertrude looks offended. Scoffing, she exclaims, “This is not the real East, I wish I was in Iraq. I like Iraq. It’s the real East”. The man, confused, walks away. I tell her that she shouldn’t talk to people like this. Her response was to glare and bustle away. 

 

As I trail behind her, I hear her muttering, “Oh how degraded this place has become. All these people, the children, the women. The Arabs have ruined it with their greed. Their need for money and tourism. If the British were in charge this would never have happened. We would have kept it preserved. Only the best could visit, the bravest, certainly no women or children. Only the true explorers.” Once I catch up to her, she suddenly stops, clearly she did not want me to hear what she was saying. Those thoughts were only for herself. Instead, she comments on the weather “it’s breathlessly, damned hot”. I chuckle, telling her that if she didn’t refuse the modern fashion of shorts or light linen pants and a t-shirt she wouldn’t feel so hot. Brushing my comment off she walks away. 

 

We make our way up the hike to the Monastery. I don’t blame her, it is hot. As we climb our way up the steps she remarks that when she had been in Petra last she made this hike on camelback, “Why do these people insist on walking? Camels are much more efficient!”. Laughing, I continue on without comment. 

 

She can be a little bit stuck up. I think she would prefer I wasn’t here at all, that she was all alone in this place. Maybe with her servant Fattuh. She definitely doesn’t want any other tourists here. She would much rather cosplay a lone adventurer than be one of the many. Be the first European women to see these places. She is clearly knowledgeable and interested in our surroundings but would rather explore solitarily. 

“Let’s go back to our hotel, maybe there we will be treated with the respect we deserve” she says, interrupting my thoughts. Knowing that I can’t change her mind, I agree to be done for the day. Hopefully some of the other places we visit will be more authentic for her.