Morocco: Goodbye, Sahara! I'll Be Back!

It was so warm beneath the mountain of furry blankets in my desert tent—I didn’t want to get up on 10 March. Nonetheless, I had a modicum of hope that I’d be able to catch the sunrise. Little did I know when I finally cast aside my blankets that the sun had been up for quite a while. Ah, well.

Around the same time, one of our hosts poked his head into our tent and informed us that breakfast was ready (another good excuse for getting up). So, after taking a few minutes to brush away the rum-, smoke-, and sleep-induced fuzz from our teeth, and then taking a few more moments to absorb the stunning starkness of our campsite and surroundings by daylight, we made our way once more to the dining tent.

Campsite

Two of the four beds in my tent. Mine is the one on the right, next to my bookbag. (The blankets are all piled on top of J. in another bed, in an effort to wake him up.)

 Breakfast was rather simple compared to the meal we had the night before, but delicious nonetheless. It consisted of bread, some kind of thick but creamy sweet-butter, apricot jam, and coffee.

Now, gurl, lemme tell you ’bout the jam and the coffee: Best. Damn. Coffee. And. Jam. Ever. 

Well, okay, in all honesty the coffee wasn’t the best ever—merely the best I’ve had since leaving the States. But the jam…my goodness, was it amazing! 

I’m not typically a fan of jellied things. (Stop right there—get your minds out of the damned gutter!) For as long as I can recall, I’ve eaten peanut butter and butter sandwiches because the texture of grape jelly grosses me out. Orange marmalade, in very small doses, is occasionally permissibly on hot, fresh morning biscuits, but that’s about it. 

During my desert excursion, however, I discovered that bread was merely a vessel for the consumption of apricot jam! First I went back for seconds…then thirds…and then, oh yes, I went back for forthsies. And don’t think that I didn’t take the last piece of bread during that final trip, because I damn well did.

At any rate, after breakfast it was time to get ready to head out, sadly. We returned to our tents and started to pack-up. I also asked JM to help me re-tie my tagelmust (which is a skill I still have not mastered even with the help of YouTube videos), resulting in the picture below.

Tagelmust: Before Photo

Now, I point out how my tagelmust looks here because, as you will soon see, it looked nothing like this only a short while later…

Which brings us to the next part of the story: Camel Ride (Part II). 

Sadly, by the time I made it to the area where our camels were housed for the return-trip, Coco had already been claimed by someone else in the group…meaning I had to settle for a different mount this time. But I didn’t name this camel. Why, you ask? Well, there are two reasons. 

First and foremost, for some inexplicable reason I had the song ‘A Horse With No Name’ stuck in my head. Now, I don’t think I’ve heard that song all the way through but once in my life, so what prompted its presence in my head that day is beyond me! Nonetheless, it was there, and so it seemed fitting at the time not to name my ride (despite the fact that he was camel and not a horse). 

The second reason I didn’t name my camel is because he was a bad camel. But since I didn’t hate him enough to send him to the glue factory (or whatever the equivalent is for camels) I did the next best thing: I stripped him of his identity by denying him a name. 

Now, I know that sounds harsh—way harsh—but you need to understand: he would not allow the saddle to be secured properly, meaning that every time I tried to reposition myself and give ‘the boys’ some comfort, the entire saddle would shift and I risked falling off. At one point, the guides actually made me dismount him completely so they could re-tie the saddle, but he must have been puffing up his belly or something, because it was even worse after that. 

Bruised cajones = bad camel.

 

Fortunately, the trip to where we met the bus was shorter than the trip to the campsite—only about 20 or 30 minutes. But it was a rough trip! I was jostled about so much that my poor tagelmust became hopelessly undone, and I couldn’t take my hand off the saddle’s yolk long enough to even attempt fixing it properly. This is why, in the ensuing pictures you see from this part of the trip, it looks like a ’fro-meets-thundercloud-meets-alien-thing is hanging over my head.

Of course, despite the bumping and jostling, after seeing one of my friends light-up while riding I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to indulge in a Camel while on a camel.

See what I mean about the tagelmust being a wreck!

This was its own hilarity-filled experience—have you ever tried to light a cigarette while rocking every which way on a relatively wild animal? (So help me, I just know that one of my gay friends is going to have a smart-ass answer to that question!) I’m surprised I still have eyebrows left. But I did it…

Watch out for the eyebrows!

 When I finally saw the bus it was a bittersweet moment. On one hand I was beyond thrilled to get off of my nameless camel. But, on the other hand, I was saddened that my time in the Sahara was already at an end.

There was still one final hurdle between us and departure, however: a group of children. 

[Image Courtesy of NJ and SP]

I look like some horrible taskmaster, don’t I? Or at the very least like a tourist who’s totally oblivious to the circumstances of his own life compared to those around him. At least that’s how I’m terribly afraid people will read it. 

And yet, in some regards, I secretly want people to have that knee-jerk reaction because maybe it will force them to interrogate their own social positions, which is why I’m posting it here like this. (Though, admittedly, a better way of inducing such reflection might be simply to encourage others to read Peggy McIntosh’s incredibly insightful and eye-opening White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.) 

With that said, let me now give you the back story:

Yes, children—all trying to sell us homemade camels made out of palm fronds. 

What you’re actually seeing in the picture above is the look of someone (me) who’s incredibly uncomfortable and conflicted. I wanted to help them all, but knew that I couldn’t, so I gave a few of them some money (without taking the things they were selling so that they could hopefully sell them to someone else) and started toward the bus. 

Unfortunately, a gaggle of these kids was blocking my way, trying to sell their wares to my friends who had boarded already. I stood there behind them, both trying to make my way on and also smiling nervously because…well, I smile when I’m uncomfortable, and I was discomfited by the recognitions running through my head of all of the privileges I have in life compared to these children (e.g., the fact that I was able to spontaneously drop a not-inconsiderable sum on an excursion to an area that at least some of those kids will probably never leave). 

And, it was in that moment that my friend took the above photo.

Moving away from the heavy (albeit incredibly important) stuff, once aboard the bus we began the long trek home. There isn’t too much to say about the trip back—the only times we stopped really were at a couple of vistas, and twice for food (the first time at a place I never caught the name of and the second time in Ouarzazate). 

Yup, that's a real-life oasis behind me.

Tagelmust fixed (more or less).

We finally made it back to Marrakech at around 6 PM, at which point we moved en masse toward Djamaa el-Fna before saying our sad goodbyes. I would love to think that one day we will cross paths again.

Afterwards, I made my way back to Waka Waka, where I rejoined the Djellaba Crew on the rooftop. Once again, they immediately pulled me, and made me feel like I hadn’t missed a second.

You know, that’s one of the really incredible things about my time in Morocco—I feel like there were these long stretches of time that just came to an absolute standstill around me, so that you could just soak it all in. It was kind of like that whole ‘perfect moment’ scene from Star Trek: Insurrection. (And yes, I’m aware that from a critical Orientalist perspective that statement kind of plays into the whole ‘exotic-erotic’ myth, but the bit about time seeming to stand still for me is indescribable any other way!)

At any rate, three or four hours (and a few glasses of wine and smokes) later, we made our way back to Djamaa el-Fna for dinner at one of the stalls that’s set-up each night.

It really was a beautiful, fun-filled evening—perfect for my last night in Morocco!

Morocco: Sahara Desert

I’m (finally) back with another entry about my trip to Morocco. I’m only a little over twenty days late with it, of course, but that’s not too bad, right?

Ah. I see. Well then, let’s get started, shall we? 

Following the debauchery from the night before, I had to be up in the early hours of March 9. Why? Well, because I was scheduled to be picked up by a guide for a two-day/one-night trip to the famous Sahara Desert! I don’t know how I managed to get up, but I did.

The guide finally arrived, accompanied by two of my fellow travelers on this leg of the journey (NJ and SP). Together we made our way toward Djamaa el-Fna where, after a bit of jockeying, we were finally allowed to board the van that would take us the rest of the way. Soon thereafter we were joined by the remaining eight members of our group for the next two days, and off we went…

Now, given that the Sahara is the largest (hot) desert in the world, and that its size is comparable to both China and the United States, one might think that it shouldn’t take long to reach its sandy border. 

One would be wrong. 

It actually takes over 5 hours to get there from Marrakech—and most of that 5 hours consists of severely winding and twisting turns as you make your way around and over the Atlas Mountains. Nonetheless, the mountains are beautiful and the views are quite spectacular—at times, even exhilarating and heart-stopping!

Day Trippin'

Mountaintops

Photostop!

Fortunately, our route allowed us to stop a few times along the way, thereby breaking up the monotony of the drive and affording us the opportunity to explore more of Morocco than just the touristy hubs.

Our first significant stop was about 2½ hours southeast of Marrakech, at a kasbah called Aït Benhaddou.

Ait Benhaddou

View From the Top

We were handed over to a very nice local guide, who led us through the steep streets (and steps) of this amazing city. Among other things, this guide informed us that, due to annual flooding, most local residents have moved to a neighboring town—however, there is still one Berber family actively living within Aït Benhaddou’s walls. 

For the most part, it has become an attraction for tourists, with shops now nestled within many of the buildings (which are rebuilt annually due to the weather), and with locals showing off such skills as creating images out of tea-stains and fire on scraps of paper. But, as our guide reminded us numerous times, traditional tourists aren’t the only ones interested in Aït Benhaddou! Hollywood has frequently made use of the kasbah as a backdrop for some of its most famous films, including: Lawrence of Arabia, Jesus of Nazareth, The Jewel of the Nile, The Mummy, and Gladiator (among many others)! (In fact, the gateway that's visible on the right-hand side of the photo with me standing in front of Aït Benhaddou was constructed specifically for Lawrence of Arabia.)

Now, I’m going to digress for a moment here, as this seems like a good place to discuss our group dynamic during the trip. 

Before setting off, I had been worried—especially in light of how amazingly I hit it off with the Djellaba Crew at Waka Waka—that this trip would be a strange and awkward experience. I mean, let’s be honest: spending over 5 hours in a van with a group of total strangers, and then sharing a tent with some of them overnight…the potential for drasaster (drama+disaster) there is huge! 

Fortunately, I had nothing to fear. 

Everyone was very friendly! Only myself and one another (RG) were travelling by our lonesome—the rest were all part of groups: NJ and SP were two Australians studying together in London; J and JJ were a traveling brother-sister team; and then there was a group of five Americans (JM, KB, OS, MD, and DB) who were studying together in Spain. But, despite people having ready-made friends on the trip with them, there was never a sense of cliquishness or stand-offishness.

Personally, I had the pleasure of sitting next to and talking with JM for most of the bus ride. I mention JM specifically because he really went out of his way during the whole trip to make me feel included, and I truly feel as if the friendship formed between us there was one of the biggest highlights of this leg of the trip for me.

At any rate, there had been some pleasant conversations here-and-there while on the trip to Aït Benhaddou, but I think it was with the spontaneous decision to take group photos (using all of our cameras) that tipped me off that the whole group had formed a really special bond. 

Front Row (L to R): DB, KB, SP, NJ, Me / Back Row (L to R): MD, JM, RG, OS

 I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am that I was part of such an amazing group!

From Aït Benhaddou we proceeded to Ouarzazate, Morocco. Ouarzazate, also known as the ‘door to the desert,’ is another locale known for its connections to the film industry: many of the same movies listed earlier have also featured this capital city, and it is also home to Atlas Studios (where an episode from The Amazing Race’s 10th season was filmed). Sadly, our driver didn’t give us much in the way of details about the area (though I've since learned that the structure seen below is called Taourirt), so I can’t really say too much more about it.

Kasbah Taourirt

After our quick stop at Ouarzazate, we made our way to Zagora, Morocco, the town where we finally traded-in our bus for some camels. (As an interesting aside, the town’s original name was ‘Twin Peaks’ in the Berber tongue, a reference to a nearby mountain named Zagora.) 

We were informed that we each needed to buy a tagelmust for protection from the desert sands, and also that this would be our last chance to buy bottled water for our time at the campsite.

Shortly thereafter, stocked-up and wearing our tigelmas, we were ready to mount-up and head into the desert…

Front Row (L to R): NJ and SP / Back Row (L to R): Me, JM, KB, RG, DB

Giddy-Up!

But that’s a story for next time…