The call to prayer at 5am woke me from a deep sleep. The haunting, achingly beautiful sound of the muezzin called out to me ‘Wake up’ ‘Wake up Lottie’. I admit that the temptation to roll over, put a pillow over my head and go back to sleep was strong but my desire to see the sunrise was stronger. Bleary eyed I showered, dressed and headed off into the darkness at 5.30am.
The 10 minute walk from our home stay to the beach was quiet save for cockerels crowing and the sound of the occasional villager starting their day. Two horses, who must have broken lose from their tetherings, trotted down the lane in front of me then veered off to the right and an old woman swept her doorstep in the half-light.
By the time I had got to the beach there was the most beautiful light. Dawn had broken. The sky was cloudy and I knew from previous experience of getting up early to photograph a sunrise that this didn’t bode well for the red and pink stained sky that I was so hoping for.
No matter. How often do we get the chance to be alone with our thoughts on a beach like this?
After I finished taking the photographs, I headed back to the home stay to rouse my sleeping friend Stewart before heading out again for breakfast. He’s now out free diving and I’m holed up in my office (aka Gili Café) – it could be a lot worse