Life in the desert

"Fam-i-ly," cried Ali. And as the apricot he threw hit his unsuspecting target Mohammed smack in the middle of the forehead, an all out food fight began. Amid flying apricots and couscous, it felt nice knowing that family meals in Morocco are the chaotic, everyone for themselves because there might not be enough (for a family of 6), manners be damned (were you born in a barn?), free-for-all that I know and love : )

And despite the fact that few people there were actually related--it was myself, three other travelers, Mohammed and Ali (who are unofficial family members) and Besmad (who I think is related, but not sure how) eating at the house of our guide Hussein's brother--in the Sahara, everyone is family.

So, for everyone wondering why I haven't posted in awhile, I am alive, and haven't been traded for camels or eaten by dogs (although I had a close call). I've been in the desert.

My desert adventure began in Marrakech (a good 8 hours away from the desert) over breakfast when I overheard Brett from Australia talking about wanting to go on a camel safari into the Sahara. My ears instantly perked up and I said I was also interested. Brett had the name of a guy (Hussein) and the hotel (Hotel Afriquia) where we were supposed to be able to find him scrawled on a napkin from a New Zealand couple he had previously met. After finding the hotel and asking for Hussein, the receptionist told us that he was currently in the desert, but would be calling in an hour and we shoud come back then. An hour later we go back, Hussein calls, Brett talks to him for approximately 30 seconds, but we manage to ascertain that he will be back at the hotel tomorrow night and we can set something up for the day after.

We're a little worried that this might not be legit, or that it might fall through or be outrageously expensive, but we return the next night at 8pm and meet Hussein who offers us a 3 day, 2 night expedition at a price we couldn't refuse. Basically he and his extended family run small tours into the desert, where he drives us down from Marrakech, with stops along the way to see stuff and we spend two nights in the desert at his family's camps, ride camels and see the tallest dunes in the Sahara. This is all falling into place except that the other two girls who had said they wanted to go were nowhere to be found and we were supposed to leave the next morning at 8am. Around 11pm, we decide we can't wait any longer and ask an Australian couple, Peter and Storm, who are staying at the hotel if they want to come. They agree almost immediately and we head out the next morning.

So a bit about our guide Hussein--he was born in the desert and has lived there his whole life. He loves the desert. He is the youngest in his family with 4 brothers and 4 sisters. His parents, who used to be nomadic and are still semi-nomadic despite being in their 80's, now live in Algeria, with his mom's family. We think he was around 28 years old. Very soon in our journey we learned that he knows pretty much everyone. He must do the drive from Marrakech to M'Hamid quite often because everywhere we stopped he knew someone. He also knew quite a few of the other drivers on the road, all of whom seemed to be family. Hussein also had a habit of disappearing on us for pretty lengthy periods of time. We came up with theories that these desert tours were really just covers for his drug dealing business. In actuality, time in the desert takes on a whole new concept, and you're pretty much a slave to the weather. It doesn't really make sense to leave a shaded cafe in the middle of the afternoon, or the protection of an oasis during a windstorm. Thus 20 minute stops often turned into hours.

The desert itself was amazing. As we approached Erg Chiggaga, it looked like we were coming up on mountains, but it was all sand, and it stretched for what looked like forever. And with only a few tents in the small camp, the only sound was that of the wind and the camels. The tents we stayed in were not what you would imagine of tents. They're more like small huts, except the floors are made of rugs, the walls are a mud/clay mixture and the roofs are palm fronds. The door to the tent is another rug. There's one main tent for dinner/hanging out with a couple of tables and stools, all of which are very low to the ground. Cushions surround the edges of the wall for sitting. There's also a building that is the "kitchen." It's very tiny, but has a gas stove and is dimly lit by a gas lamp that if in the U.S. would most likely be breaking every fire code in the book.

The first night we had a huge dinner of tagine followed by a few of the guys playing the drums and singing songs. Our favorite was a catchy tune that was part in Spanish, part in French and part in Arabic. The chorus in Spanish went something like this - Vamos a la playa, Aqui a la playa, Solo la reina (let's go to the beach, here there is no beach, only sand).

The next morning after seeing the sun rise (at 5am) and eating breakfast we had a 3 hour camel ride into M'Hamid. How our guides could find their way, I have no clue. There weren't any trails or anything distinguishing, just sand as far as you could see with the occasional shrub here and there.

M'Hamid is an interesting town. It was weird to see a town where everything was sand. There was one main road that was paved, but other than that, only sand. We immediately went to the café, which seemed to be THE meeting place in town. Reminded me of a Western movie, where everyone meets up at the Old Saloon. During our three days in the desert we spent a pretty significant chunk of time at this café, as did most people in town. Also it seemed that Hussein's car was more of a communal car, rather than his. Many times we couldn't leave the café because either our car was gone, Hussein was gone, or both.

The next several days involved a lot of hanging out, climbing sand dunes, stargazing, eating huge home cooked meals and talking to people as best as we could--some knew English, and I became our french translator, which was pretty funny. The most entertaining person though had to be Besmad. He was an older man who spoke no English, but was fluent in both Arabic and French. Possibly the happiest person I've ever met, he was constantly laughing, smiling and pretty much non stop talking while he was awake. He would begin by talking in Arabic, and when we said we didn't understand, he would laugh at us, and continue talking in Arabic only slower, louder and with violent hand gestures. Mohammed was another interesting character. He would get very excited whenever he would see us, yelling out "Family."

Despite the fact that life in the desert can't be easy, everyone we met appeared extremely happy. Constantly joking around and laughing, everyone was really friendly and outgoing, and there was a totally different mentality, where everything is, communal, everyone is family and the only real rules are dictated by the desert. One afternoon in the café, Peter was trying to buy a coke and was looking for the person to pay (it was always unclear who owned the café and who was just there), so he asks who he should give his money to, who was the boss, and Hussein replied, "here, everyone's the boss, the desert's the boss." And after three days of getting to know desert life, and still waking up with sand in my bed, I have to agree.

Ok, I have a few photos...I tried to get more, but this computer won't let me put more for some reason

Our first morning in the desert, pre-camel ride breakfast

The camp we stayed at the second night

Hanging out on the dunes, it was a bit windy