I was awake throughout the bus ride, waiting in anticipation for the moment I would once again enter the city of Medinah. The last time I did and that was when I was 20, I had just finished reading Martin Ling’s book: Muhammad. Lings was a writer in which his writings not only evoked vivid imaginations, but the way he wrote about the life of Muhammad (pbuh) was as though readers were living through that era, feeling Muhammad’s pain, fear, joys, sufferings, triumph and struggles. Without doubt, that first time I entered the city of Medinah, fresh from the journey on Ling’s opus caravan, I found myself slightly shivering when the coach made its way into the Prophet’s city.
This time round however, I was just simply tired. I had not finished Muhammad Asad’s Road to Mecca book that I had wanted to read prior to this trip and hence, emotionally, I was not yet pricked by any great writings to evoke any sentiments within me that I had felt previously. Hence I was not sure if the anticipation I felt had to do with the fact that I was exhausted and finally we could check in somewhere, or the fact that we were really on this journey now to meet the Prophet together. Probably a bit of both.
It was almost 3 am when the first sight of city lights came into view indicating that we were slowly but surely entering into Medinah. The husband was excited. The coach drove in through the bright but sleeping city and I noted the many changes I noticed about the city. At around 3 am in the morning, we were welcomed in true Swiss hospitality by the Arab staff of Movenpick Hotel.