CAPTIVATED: An Adventure in Faith

By Kristina Hurrell

An enlightening adventure that reveals the power of trusting faith - not fear.

"My heart quickened, senses suddenly alert. Through the fading light a pair of dark, sandaled feet approached beneath a flapping Bedouin robe. I scrambled up. Should I run out, or try to hide?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristina Hurrell
• Release date: Dec 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735478425

Kristina Hurrell

Throughout her life as an intrepid world traveler, Kristina Hurrell has been exploring the globe on a quest to discover extraordinary scenic destinations and ancient cultures that offer both adventure and renewal. Her traveling SpaFari has been featured in numerous magazines, health and travel shows. She has inspired college students, celebrities, corporate executives, groups and individuals to "Say, 'Yes' to their Precious Life - by Climbing to Greater Heights" in all areas of Wholeness: Faith and Fitness, Health, Wellness, and Empowered Living.

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What People Are Saying

A kaleidoscopic literary journey that moves the mind, heart, and spirit.

Peter Guber | Film Producer, Sports Executive, Entrepreneur

As an avid traveler, I love this well written evocative book, which describes in revealing detail the experiences Kristina encountered throughout her epic journey in the Sahara Desert.

Daniel Ritchie | Chancellor Emeritus of the University of Denver

Kristina’s life serves as amazing inspiration. Her infectious enthusiasm, limitless reservoir of empathy, and eternal kindness motivates countless people. CAPTIVATED is the story of Kristina’s remarkable journey of endurance, faith, and hope.

Marc Holtzman | Former Vice Chairman of Barclays

Kristina Hurrell lived an exciting life as a world-renowned model. But a fateful trip to the Sahara Desert turned into an unwanted adventure that would have been a disaster had she not called upon her faith to get her through. In her beautifully written book, we witness her bravery and strength as she takes readers on a compelling journey of faith and hope. I give her so much credit for stepping forward to tell her very personal, inner journey. Her story is inspiring to people of all backgrounds.

Lexie Brockway Potamkin | Author of Know Yourself and

Former Miss World USA

I was captivated from start to end. Brilliantly written, it reads like an epic adventure novel that traverses Kristina's glamorous life as a super model and how her faith saved her curious and adventurous spirit in the Sahara Desert. 

Colin Cowie | Colin Cowie Lifestyle

In her first book, Kristina Hurrell recreates her youthful odyssey through the Sahara Desert, taking the reader on a journey that’s both dangerous and rewarding. Her account is one of uncommon bravery and determination with vivid descriptions of Bedouin life and her faith interwoven throughout, with just enough romance to add a bit of sizzle to the story. CAPTIVATED is a harrowing adventure that brings to light how Hurrell’s faith, perseverance, and willpower guided her through one of the most perilous journeys of her life and formed a faith that continues to guide her.

Myrna R. Fleishman, Ph.D. | Psychologist

CAPTIVATED is a breathtaking, true tale of a bold young woman’s solo foray into the vast and unforgiving Sahara Desert. Hurrell uses her pen like an artist masters a paintbrush—with nuance, coloration, and passion. Her descriptive images trigger such strong sensual reaction you will feel like you are in her skin. With God’s leading, relentless in her quest, the author conquers the unimaginable. Ultimately her experience is a powerful testimony to God’s grace. Miracles do happen. You will be captivated, encouraged, and inspired.

Susan Mauntel | Former TV Broadcaster

Delightful! From the glamour of Hollywood to the deserts of Africa, Kristina’s journey of adventure and deepening faith will encourage all readers.

Dan Bosco | Minister and Actor

CAPTIVATED

An Adventure in Faith

KRISTINA HURRELL

KRISTINA HURRELL

Captivated: An Adventure in Faith

Copyright © 2020 by Kristina Hurrell

[e-mail]

This title is also used in print format.

Requests for interviews and information should be addressed to:

Kristina Hurrell

[e-mail]

www.kristinahurrell.com

ISBN 978-1-7354784-2-5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Cover & Interior Design: Alex Dale, loudmark.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated to our courageous life of adventure—and all it embraces. To my upstanding family throughout the United Kingdom, the USA, and beyond. To the Hand of God and His guiding light ...

Contents

Part One

Chaper 1: Paris, France 1970

Chapter 2: My Seeds of Exploration

Part Two

Chapter 3: A Surprise Meeting

Chapter 4: Djerba, Tunisia

Chapter 5: Nefta

Chapter 6: Dash-Away

Chapter 7: The Encounter

Chapter 8: The Invitation

Chapter 9: Considerations

Chapter 10: Preparations

Part Three

Chapter 11: Soul Pilot

Chapter 12: Epiphany – A Lot More Than Photographs

Chapter 13: Misguided Assumptions

Chapter 14: The Tree

Chapter 15: Back Over the Hump

Chapter 16: Lineage

Chapter 17: The One

Part Four

Chapter 18: Into the Heat

Chapter 19: A Call to Spirits

Chapter 20: A Celebration Inscribed with Fate

Chapter 21: Guiding Shadows and Stars

Part Five

Chapter 22: The Ultimate Trail of Trust

Chapter 23: Awakenings

The Chapters of Life Continue … and Final Thoughts from the Author

Acknowledgements

part one

A precious land dwells ahead

A desert land widespread

Yet ‘til that day I stray

On unfamiliar earth–

I remain a stranger in His hand

A stranger in strange lands

CHAPTER 1

Paris, France 1970

The setting sun streamed prisms through the beveled glass windows that led to my sixth-floor pied-à-terre balcony. They carried a breeze that beckoned me from the bed where I spent a month in recuperation, looking back at the conversations I experienced and the characters that I met, to establish them in my long-term memory bank. The element of time helped me relive the vivid details of a hazardous adventure I had barely survived. But the daunting quest had set its seal on me—illuminating my tenacity, resilience, and courage. I knew nothing could prevent my return through the inhospitable Sahara as I navigated by the stars.

——

My eyes opened to the beams of light that danced over me. I swung open my doors and stepped out on the balcony to glance over at the Seine, Notre Dame, the Pantheon, and the Jardin du Luxembourg. This time the landscape looked different. But I wasn’t so sharply focused on the charismatic city as I had been eight months earlier when this journey first began...

Back then, my eyes were enchanted by the views of Paris as it celebrated springtime. My nostrils filled with the sweet scent of magnolias, cherry blossoms, and night-blooming jasmine; my ears with the six-note song of the nightingale, the trilling and chirping of the blackbird and starling.

Then, the elements wafted amour through the air, enlivened my soul, piqued my senses, and stimulated my heart in anticipation of a romantic adventure. "Get ready! Get ready!"

I had opened my arms to embrace the spirit of Paris, and felt a receptive response, Take my arm, Kristina. I always had an insatiable desire for adventure, dreaming from a young age of exploring the world around me. It was something that excited and inspired me, because I knew I would never be truly alone. From my work to my travels, I always had a sense that God was there beside me, protecting me. His protection gave me the strength to set my intentions and step into the unknown in faith and courage.

That night in May, I was at the height of my modeling career with Dior, Vogue, Valentino, and Yves Saint Laurent. Appreciating the sensuality of haute couture, I dressed to the nines in a dazzling, high-slit, red Dior cocktail dress, for which I had traded runway hours during spring Paris Fashion Week. Checking the mirror, I lifted my arms and twirled, anticipating my rendezvous.

Floating with exuberance, I left Ile Saint-Louis (the birthplace of Paris), to stride briskly across Pont de la Tournelle, towards Saint-Germain-des-Près. En route, I bypassed cobblestone streets that would have wrecked my dancing shoes. I dropped a few coins into the hats of street musicians, skirted groups of men puffing Gauloises (being sensitive to their lingering aromas), and continued onward to my destination, the renowned Castel Night Club.

Turning a corner to approach the club, I faced a crowd of teenagers shouting and waving angry hands, begging admission through the famous red door. But they had no chance. The two red-jacketed doormen were, as usual, snarling like bulldogs to protect the privacy of the luminaries within.

My approach was acknowledged. With grand, sweeping gestures, the doormen shouted at the crowd to make way for me. I smiled apologetic regrets that the group couldn’t join me, then sashayed through a gauntlet of resentful glares and entered the club.

DJs had the dance floor pulsing with loud bass music. I scanned the sea of heads bobbing to the beat and caught sight of a swath of red hair. Philippe looked up, and we locked eyes. He danced towards me with the intricate foot stomps and body movements of a flamenco dancer. Spinning a spectacular flourish, he beckoned me to the dance floor.

Without hesitation, I jumped into the beat, mirroring his rhythmic patterns by stamping my feet and clapping, waving my arms and pivoting. Electrified by our performances, other dancers pushed back to open up our floor space.

Who are they? I heard someone whisper above the noise.

She’s a British model. You see her in all the magazines.

And him?

He’s just a Paris man.

A slower beat caused Philippe’s attention to wander. I moved to our reserved booth and checked my watch. I was about to leave when he quickly slid in beside me with an apologetic smile.

Don’t go, a waiter is about to serve us champagne.

As we clinked glasses, I studied his open face and expressive light green eyes. Altogether, he was a rather attractive man.

I’ve known you so briefly, he said, but already I can tell that you are the most marvelous girl! 

Thank you, Philippe! I raised my glass and toasted, To what moves us.

He rested his curvy lips on the champagne glass and sipped from it slowly, then tilted his ear as an Édith Piaf song, "Hymne à l’amour," came on. We slithered out to dance, swaying sensually.

Maybe this is our song, Philippe said. They played it twice at the party I crashed.

We were moving to the intoxicating music of Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg singing "Je t’aime...moi non plus" when his warm breath tickled my ear, "Chérie, viens avec moi en vacances."

I replied flirtatiously, A vacation! Where would that be, pray tell?

Hmmm... He waited as a Django Reinhardt tune warmed up, then stamped a Romani beat and swung me around. How about North Africa?

That’s quite an offer on our first date!

I want it to be memorable. It was my first thought when I saw you through the window at that function in the art gallery on Boulevard Raspail.

You intended to offer me a vacation when you slipped in and joined that group of Dior male models?

Yes, and I envisioned us somewhere special!

I’m impressed by your imagination. Were you seeking a travel partner?

Yes. I knew immediately it was you!

Are you thinking, perhaps, Morocco?

A region of North Africa for sure. And of course, somewhere with music!

I smiled at Philippe as I considered his offer. We certainly hadn’t known each other long, but I couldn’t bear the thought of missing an exciting adventure. As long as I made my boundaries clear with Philippe and he was amenable to them, this could be a memorable trip.

You’re on! I said. But only after we establish a compatible friendship, and of course, if you agree on separate rooming logistics. When do you plan to go? Starting Monday, I’m booked for weeks. It will take a while to clear space for a getaway with you.

We have time to decide on an exact departure date.

I lifted my head as the rhythm picked up and began visualizing us incorporating the artistry of Moroccan dance movements.

Should the plan proceed, I would love to infuse my moves with traditional north African folk dances! I said, while circling him with élan. All through Morocco... Algeria... Tunisia... and Egypt!

You’re so fine. I would dance anywhere with you, luscious lady!

I ended my spin, but he was no longer on the dance floor. Glancing about, I caught him swaggering off to the bathroom, towards a man who was standing outside the door. I stood and watched as they gave each other a big greeting. Both expressed intimacy by the physicality of their embrace, their desirous gaze, and their passionate kiss. After another ardent kiss, they pulled each other inside.

Alone on the dance floor, I heard snickers from those who were also watching my dance partner’s abrupt desertion. I snapped out of my daze and shrugged at the avant-garde crowd, who moved off, all atwitter at my wilting crescendo.

I returned to the booth and watched the crowd go back to their innumerable toasts and chatter, their general savoring of life. I certainly savored all that life was offering me, except for love and romance. I was still a neophyte in that department, holding out, until the real thing happened. Careful not to mistake a laissez-faire sexual infatuation for being in love. I wanted the real thing of a true love.

Philippe, it seemed, was on a different path, as he obviously swung both ways. That had not been simply an overly demonstrative kiss that French men sometimes exchange.

Since becoming (my version of) a woman of the world, I couldn’t help noticing how European cities welcomed the mélange of sexual differences, where the to each his own perspective seemed only moderately risqué. Many Paris nightclubs embraced the potpourri of preferences.

When I look back, I’m surprised at how prudish I was then. My intention was not to discriminate or judge the attitudes of others. I understood that for many, love has no boundaries, and my sudden reaction to Philippe wasn’t exactly a moral judgment. Instead, I questioned why he invited me on the trip. He obviously enjoyed dancing, and the Parisian cabarets were full of gorgeously handsome men who would probably have jumped at the chance to be his travel companion.

During these early years in my career as a high-fashion model, I hosed up travel opportunities like an anteater, but I drew the line on compromising my standards. We all have the freedom to choose our own course. Mine was influenced by my Mother’s principles, which she instilled in me when I was a young teenager: Restrain your urges, Kristina. Honor and value your body. You are sitting on a pot of gold. Live in relative purity as a single woman until the right man comes along.

Those were not sexually repressive, impossible-to-follow rules—they were standards I was striving to stick with. I knew a true and enduring love would catch my heart. Someday.

Until then, I did my best to treat my body well. After all, it was the vessel God chose to give me as I walked this earth. If I was going to trust so fully in God to protect me and guide my steps, it felt only right that I do my best to take care of my body and protect my heart.

Clutching my handbag, I was about to make my way out of the club when Philippe swept into the booth with a plate of cocktail food. His senses seemed heightened as he clapped for more champagne and swung an arm over my shoulder. I chose these exotic tasters to start our journey. Let’s eat!

I angled myself to leave the booth. Sorry, it’s too late. I’m going.

Why are you leaving?

I responded impatiently, You should find someone more in line with your lifestyle to join you on that vacation.

Is it because I saw my friend?

Well, of course. Plus, the rudeness of you walking off when we were still dancing. I glanced back at him, I’ll leave you to invite your lover over so you can enjoy the meal together.

He reached over. Please stay. My friend has already left.

Without skipping a beat, he sighed a little regretfully. We had a special relationship at one time. I haven’t seen him in ages.

He poured champagne, took my hand, kissed it, and looked deeply into my eyes. He was important to me once. But not now.

What you love is who you are, Philippe. Your passion is your preference. Let’s not linger here anymore. I need to get back to my pied-à-terre.

Arranging his face into something resembling sincerity, he said, "Could we work out a separate-room arrangement and enjoy the vacation in a fun way, as dancing friends? Look, I know it’s sudden, since we only met a week ago. But if all goes well, we should be good to go soon."

Then there’s no reason to discuss this until you know, I said, with a smirk. If it’s only a should, I won’t bother my agents to get me the time off. 

Why? he said, arching his eyebrows.

I shrugged, then suddenly felt a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps it was because I had recently modeled a French designer’s indigo-blue Bedouin-style robe. The studio backdrop of the Sahara Desert, with palm trees and camels, had captured my imagination.

He continued, "Give it a chance. It’s a fortnight trip, but it does come with a caveat: it all depends on mes amis. We must meet my friends demain."

Tomorrow! When did you and your friends plan this vacation? Is it a group thing?

There will be four of us.

Well, tell me about them. Are they interesting and fun?

"Leave the questions until tomorrow, mon amour. The hour is late."

He kissed my nose. I will escort you home.

Thank you. We can talk about your friends on the way.

"They are not important. Tomorrow, I’ll awake at the dot of ‘sparrow-fart’ to pick you up, so we can drive out to meet them. We have one objective, to ascertain compatibility. If copacetic, we can clear dates and book flights. And of course, pack that dress!"

He remained reticent about his friends as he escorted me to my lobby and kissed me lightly on my cheek. "Demain!"

As he walked away, I felt a sudden cautionary reaction to the invitation. I thought, Should I trust my intuition and say no, or take the chance? It was a clearly confusing situation, and not worth the rush of an off-the-cuff consideration, as I had more than enough on my career plate already. Why bother with a vacation that might not happen anyway? But, if in all unlikelihood, it did, and the friends were nice, and the destination was tempting, and it was near the Sahara, with of course our separate-room policy... well then, that would shine a different light on it.

There was no denying the trip might offer me fascinating photography vantages, and it could also inspire a solo adventure. I’d never fancied the desert before, having thought no one in his or her right mind would choose to visit the sun-bleached, rubble-strewn wilderness... But the recent modeling assignment with the Sahara backdrop had stirred in me seedlings of excitement. I almost felt as if I was being drawn to the desert. What would I discover there? My adventurous heart sprouted all kinds of imagined possibilities. The people, the culture, the geology; the more I thought about the trip, the more I felt an almost supernatural pull to embark on this adventure. Perhaps it was just what I needed, and it did epitomize an ultimate environment for an escape.

Chapter 2

My Seeds of Exploration

I’ve had big eyes for adventure ever since I was a child in England. My travel passion was sparked by my Father, who would ask me and my siblings geography questions at the dinner table. He would usually start off with Let us look around the world. Tell me, what are the oceans and seas that border the continents of...? What are the major mountain ranges of...? The rivers that flow into...? The deserts of...? The animals that live and survive at...? The capital cities of...? The industries of...?

Being the eldest daughter, I needed to give the right answers, so I diligently studied these regions on an Atlas World Map pinned to my bedroom wall. Before long I had gained a heightened degree of curiosity, having memorized the names and locations of