It is a truth universally acknowledged that a millennial in the prime of their life must be in want of a new hobby. From indoor plants to preserving foods, paint-by-numbers, smoking meats, and birdwatching (ahem, that is a raven, not a crow), social media takes great joy in making fun of millennial hobbies. Yet by the time you reach the end of this article and can quote at least three scientific names for orchid species, you and I will be the ones laughing… Probably at ourselves.

Have you ever seen that series of photos which show elderly people looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection of their much younger selves? Nurses, soldiers, young brides; I find those photos utterly heartbreaking. Within the decaying body and mind is a vibrant youth screaming, “I was young once.”

I’m writing this on the cusp of my forty-second birthday. Only in medieval times would I be considered ‘old’. I have relatively good health and a lot to be thankful for, but recently, I’ve found myself looking at photos with melancholy welling up inside me.

This is me. Running. Feet pounding the pavement as the sun rises, warm breath clouding the cool morning air. Music beating in my ears—wakening my brain from the haze of sleep. I take my time. I extend my route on a whim. I sprint the final stretch home. I stretch my limbs. I watch the news while getting ready for the day.

My top suggestion for “what to bring if you’re coming to visit the Middle East” is…. silicone earplugs. Not foam ones. Silicone putty ones, that you use for kids with grommets who go swimming. I speak from nine years of trial and error to find a way to a good nights sleep. Sound pollution is not a concept here.