The stars were bright and twinkling overhead. We sat in a giant circle, seated on cushions, all wrapped tightly in blankets, around a fire.

Three brothers sang songs in arabic as they huddled around the flames, preparing a late night tea. Their voices and the crackling of the fire the only noise in the darkness.

I was struck by the sense that this feeling was something I was unlikely to recapture again. It was a memory I would carry with me for the rest of my life. One that I'd look to others who'd shared it and laugh. "Remember the time we sat around a fire in the middle of the desert, in Jordan, and drank tea and smoked hookahs under the stars with a bunch of bedouins?"