MIDNIGHT SUN

Britney POV.

They say first love is always special. You can never really forget your first love. But I had little knowledge of it back then. It was February 2019, and I was all of 19 years old.

We were out on a weeklong camping trip to South Africa. By ‘we’, I refer to a big group of students from my college. By ‘camping’, I mean jungle safari: sightseeing, bird watching, tiger spotting, and endless sojourns across the many rivers of the Tiger Canyon Private Game Reserve.

We booked our accommodations in the Reserve, located at Philippopolis, South Africa. Seventeen thousand hectares of pristine green forest land took our breath away.

We reacted the way we shouldn’t have. Thoughtlessly.

On the very first day of our stay, we destroyed the peace and tranquility of the serene forest by our loud chatter, boisterous laughter, constant ringing of smartphones, and a never-ending desire to take hundreds of selfies in large groups.

But what caught my attention was the presence of an equally rowdy group of tourists in the adjacent accommodation. They were a truly riotous lot of six people who eclipsed us in loudness and disorderly conduct.

That group had only one man, probably in his thirties. He was always surrounded by five young girls who accompanied him everywhere. The babes wore skimpy clothes, which made them an eyesore in the pristine forest landscape. Though some boys in my group treated them as eye candy.

Most of the female tourists at the Reserve were middle-class women dressed modestly, and young girls among them wore jeans and chinos. None were as scantily clad as those five noisy babes.

They were always seen in micro miniskirts and hot pants, with tank tops and off-shoulder tees.

“Those guys are wildlife photographers from the National Geographic Channel,” one of my college mates, Paula, informed me. “I found out from the manager of the guesthouse this morning.”

“Those glam dolls are photographers?” I found that difficult to believe.

“Not those girls,” Paula corrected me. “The guy is a wildlife photographer. The girls are probably his colleagues or companions. Or whatever.”

“Hmm. So he is the photographer, and they are the wild ones,” I said sarcastically. “They are certainly wild enough to put the wildlife to shame.”

Paula laughed at my dark humor and walked away. And I took a long, hard look at the man. Tall, dark, a head full of curly hair and a face full of stubble. The scruffy look might be a big draw for babes, but I have always preferred the vintage clean-shaven appearance in a man.

What impressed me more than his looks was his camera. A big black shiny Nikon with long telescopic lenses hanging from his neck. The strap had the words ‘National Geographic’ printed on it. And unlike us, he mostly took photos of nature and the jungle.

It was on the second day that I got to speak to him for the first time. Both the groups – his and mine -– were on the same ferry to visit the Tiger Watch Tower, located a few miles down the river. Our groups filled up all the space in the ferry.

And the boys from my college started ogling at the five sexy sirens, who were noisy as usual.

I was sitting on the roof of the ferry and taking pics of the dense forests on either side of the river. That was when he walked up to me and initiated a conversation.

“You are holding the camera against the light,” were his first words.

I stared at him. He was in a t-shirt and shorts, with his camera hanging from his neck, and a stubble on his face. He was away from his group, which seemed odd.

“Excuse me?” I could not figure out what he meant.

“You will not get a sharp picture if the sunlight falls on your camera,” he said. “Try to have your back towards the light.”

“You seem to know a lot about cameras,” I responded mockingly. “I am just trying to catch a glimpse of a tiger in those forests.”

“Not possible,” he replied with certainty. “This is my fourth trip to this place, and I have never been able to spot a tiger from the boat. The dense trees make it impossible.”

That’s how we got to chat. It started with cameras and pics and tigers. And then we moved onto introducing ourselves.

“Hi, I am Britney,” I told him a few minutes later.

“Hi, I am Vic,” he extended his hand for a handshake.

“Vic? Full name, please. Else I am not shaking your hand,” I was pretty curt and straightforward.

“Alright then,” he smiled. “Victor, that’s my name. So Britney, what’s your story?”

“What’s yours?” I retorted.

“I am a nature photographer with the National Geographic. I am a traveler. I travel every month. My work takes me places. I am here for both business and pleasure.”

“Great! I am in college and I'm here with my college mates on a fun trip,” I said. “That’s my story.”

He smiled again. We chatted for a while. He tried to teach me how to use his camera like a pro. I began to like him more and more.

Just before we reached our destination, I could not help but ask, “Who are those five girls you are travelling with?”

“They are my girls,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You know, friends. You could call them my girlfriends.”

“You have FIVE girlfriends!” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “You are quite the Casanova, travelling with five girls in your arms.”

“I am a pilgrim on this earth. A wanderer. They give me company and love,” he smiled before walking away.

I told Paula about my conversation with Vic. She said he is a bad apple and asked me to stay away from him.

“He seems nice, you know?” I said. “I kind of like him.”

“So does a moth when it flies towards the flame,” she scoffed. “A man who roams around and sleeps with five women should not be trusted.”