A desert rose amongst the thorns

6 – 7 September, 2014

Right! Where was I?

Let’s hope this attempt at getting back to blogging is more successful than my last.

I’d just had a very refreshing dip in the pool at Kasbah Dunes D’Or. And then …. thinking back to my less than successful donkey ride at Ouarzazate, it was time to grit my teeth and get on a camel. Not a pretty sight! Me, not the camel!! Seat belts? No. There was a T bar handle to grip, not more than 25cm wide and no stoppers at the ends to stop sweaty, fearful hands slipping off. I held on like grim death! Didn’t let go until we got to camp. Surviving departure boosted my confidence just a little. As the camel stood, I lurched forward, in great fear of pitching over its head. We were off, on our way to spend the night in the Sahara, on the edge of a 25km long, 5km wide dune known as Erg Chebbi.

Camels are often referred to as ships of the desert. Certainly they have the rock and pitch motion of a small boat riding waves. Going uphill wasn’t too bad. But downhill it was that “over the top” feeling again. I was at the head of the train – the safest spot, I gather, and my lovely driver/guide, Hami’s brother, led us on foot. I’m not sure how far we went and how long it took. It seemed like miles and hours! But probably not.

What seemed like half an hour into the journey, a dune buggy came driving up. As I saw it in the distance, I thought how wonderful it would be to be riding on that instead of a camel. I simply couldn’t believe it, the kindness!, when the two young men came right up to us and said they were there to collect me if I wanted to dismount. Thinking back to my donkey ride and my dread in anticipation of the camel ride, Hami had organised this for me. But I then thought, I can’t fail two rides, so I stayed with the camel, still fearful though I was.

Before dawn

Eventually we got to the camp, all the men and me. Interesting! There were three groups: me, three youngish blokes, and a group of older academics with a young PhD student, physical sciences, I think, from Italy and Morocco, having a break before getting down to whatever their work was. Each group had its own table and tent. So effectively I ate alone. I’m not sure how many attendants there were, maybe half a dozen, including the camel men. The evening meal was typical Moroccan and delicious.

The sun rises

The youngish blokes kept to themselves – maybe they didn’t want to share the hashish they were smoking! In my innocence, I’d never seen hash grated and the cigarettes rolled before!!

The academics had their wine and the young student fell asleep very quickly after eating and not much drinking on his part. The older blokes kept on talking, and talking. One in particular.

Later, The Talker came over and started to chat. For a while he was interesting but then got very boring with his theories of life and the place of women – mysogynist, needless to say. Finally I told him to go away as I had to go to sleep. So he went off to his group.

The desert camp at dawn

The hash smokers and I decided to sleep under the stars and a full-ish moon. We missed the full beauty because those grown academics were so childish. There was a light on a pole (Electricity from where? Battery? Solar?) and they insisted that it remain on. They were afraid of creepy crawlies and goodness knows what monsters they imagined might visit the camp!!!

A few hours later, rain! A rare event in the desert. Everyone outside gathered up their bedding and rushed to their tents. That’s when I started to imagine things! It got a bit windy and the rugs that made the tent walls flapped and flapped, sounding (in my imagination) like an animal trying to find its way in. As it was, the rain was very brief – we could have stayed under the stars.

I should mention, we were not in the "Luxury Camping Tents" that you see advertised. Our tents looked very much like those I saw en route that nomads and shepherds were living in. I did have an en suite toilet though - a self-composting porta-loo!

Looking back to my sunrise perch.
My footsteps on the right.
And yes, that's a rhododendron bush.

And then it was morning. The hash smokers and I got up to a dawning light and climbed the nearby dune to watch the sun rise. It was steeper than it looks in the photos and my feet sank down in the sand. But the effort was more than well rewarded! Although there were a few people a way off, it felt like I was alone in the magnificent landscape. Sitting, waiting, slowly the sun rising over the dune opposite.

I can understand the attraction to the early Christian “Desert Fathers”. The beauty and isolation are stunning. Reminiscent of the Australian Kimberley, but very different too.

Breakfast!
With ancient and modern water 'jars'

But all good things …. down the dune to breakfast! A cross between Moroccan and Western. Not that I have a cloth on the table at home! Scrumptious. 

Preparations were made and all too soon it was back on my camel.

Preparing the camels for the return journey

Heading back

The journey back to Kasbah Dunes D’Or didn’t seem nearly as long or as far as the previous day’s travel! I finally gathered a bit of courage and took some photos as we trekked.

Camel up close and personal

Gorgeous ugly! This camel, supposedly following mine, nudged and slobbered on my leg at one point. I’d have patted him if I’d dared let go both hands!

I wasn’t afraid of getting lost in the desert either, should I have been abandonned en route. The wind might have blown the camels tracks away, but their poop, “desert dates”, were more difficult to dislodge and remained a constant guide!!

Almost there!

I got back safely back thanks to Hami’s brother and my gentle,trusty camel.

The camel men and caterers looked after us so well. The camels were a joy – even if ugly and slobbering! I’d be exhausted too after carrying me on my back!

A well-earned rest for 'my' camel

Definitely a bucket list experience. What a privilege to have done it.

The magnificent Sahara

A day on the edge …. of the Sahara Desert

6 September, 2014

Travelling through Morocco in areas where mud-brick construction predominates, it’s difficult for a stranger to tell what different buildings and clusters of buildings might be, construction and design are so similar. But you always know a school. Schools are colourful, either because the buildings themselves are painted in rainbow colours or because there are bright murals on the walls.

Typical school

School gates

Before heading into the desert, time was spent visiting what the tour programme referred to as “the Merzouga oasis area”. On the whole, it looked more like desert than oasis! Although we did see what most Westerners (I think) would regard as an oasis: the little circle of palm trees and a dwelling or two in the middle of “the desert”.

The Western idea of a desert oasis

In reality, an oasis is bigger, sometimes much bigger, than the Western idea of one.

The desert-edge oasis village of Merzouga

While we’d seen camels before now, this part of the world is really their home. I’m not sure how it works. Some seemed to be restricted in one way or another, others seemed to be quite free to wander at will without straying from the general area where they’re supposed to be.

Camel country 

Tucker time

Time for a rest before work

There is little water to be seen but it’s there somewhere.

Wells in the desert

Looking down a well
…. although I couldn’t actually see any water!

You can take “heat treatment” …. not sure if this is supposed to make you more healthy, more beautiful, or both. But no way that I’d give it a go. Just too hot!

Preparing the treatment area

Taking the treatment

Then it was off to the black Moroccan village of Khamlia. I was interested that Hami referred to these people as Africans. Was he not African himself? Interestingly, “Africans” to him are what “Africans” are to Australians, the very dark-skinned inhabitants of the continent who live south of the Sahara. Khamlia was the home of Africans who had migrated north so this was a different experience of Morocco.

"African" musicians - Groupe des Bambaras

The music of Groupe des Bambaras at Khamlia was percussive for the most part, accompanied by some singing. There was also dancing when a larger tour group arrived …. but I refrained from giving my two left feet an outing!

Only one stringed instrument

We were served mint tea …. I love that drink!

Mint tea ….
 and a most beautiful musician of the future 🙂

I bought a CD but like the band in the Paris Metro and the choir at a church in St Petersburg, the CD doesn’t completely capture the vivacity of the group, the vibrations that you can physically feel.

***

Not an occasion for photos was a visit to the home of a local Merzouga family, well known to Hami, for morning tea/lunch – more mint tea plus Moroccan pizza. I felt a bit awkward about this, as though I were invading someone’s home. But then, such ‘invasions’ are a part of the tourist industry that brings income to the area. I experienced the cultural divide at first hand. I was a guest but all the other people in the room were men. The wife of the head of the household, plus some young children, only came into the room to serve us.

I also had one of the loveliest experiences here. There was no “here’s the bathroom” to wash your hands before eating. Instead, a basin, jug and hand towel were offered. You held your hands over the basin and water was poured over them. It was such a personal, intimate experience. Quite sensuous really.

Afterwards I learned just how well Hami knows this family. We got outside and he pointed to the house next door. “That’s mine!” Still being built and where he will eventually live with his wife and daughter (both clearly adored by him), moving out of his father’s home.

And then it was back to base at Kasbah Dunes D’Or.

Approaching Kasbah Dunes D’Or

I’d been warned that electricity supply could be intermittent but in fact had no trouble. Places this isolated don’t have mains power. There must be generators but they weren’t noticeable, either visually or aurally. Just how many had solar power as well I couldn’t guess as panels were unobtrusive. I didn’t notice these panels until I got home and looked closely at the photos I’d taken. 

(On the other hand, satellite dishes grew like topsy, only too obvious on roofs everywhere!)

Rear of the Kasbah

In the photo above, my terrace is immediately left of the small room protruding from the walls. Solar panels are above that.

Before heading off for a night in the desert there was time for a very welcome dip in the deliciously cool pool ... the pool fringed by gums!

The kasbah pool

Heading to the Sahara

05 September, 2014

The box in my brain marked “Geography” is all too close to empty. I think we might have been technically in the desert for quite a while, with river oases running through it. But on leaving Zagora, we were heading to what westerners think of as “the desert”, i.e. the rolling sand dunes of the Sahara. Mind you, I should know better: the Australian desert is not as barren and devoid of interest as many people think …. even as I thought, before going there.

On the road 1

On the road 2 - new houses being built

We were heading to Merzouga but the address of our accommodation for the night, a kasbah with the French name Auberge Les Dunes D’Or, was, as in the Australian outback, some distance from the named dot on the map.

On the road 3

On the road 4

Along the road in the Ziz valley between Zagora and Rissani, we passed as close as we would get to Hami’s home, pretty close to the Algerian border. Not all that far as the crow flies, but sadly too far by road for them to have some time together. I really felt for this gorgeous young man who clearly adored his wife, daughter and extended family but whose job kept him away from them for so long.

On the road 5 - Crumbling mud bricks

Also on this stretch of road, it was the closest we came to a nomad camp. These people are largely herders of sheep and goats, as I understand it. It does look a bit messy around this camp site but I cannot blame the nomads specifically for it. The one sad thing to see in this truly beautiful country is all the rubbish along the roads. They need a Clean Up Morocco campaign as we have a Clean Up Australia campaign at home. Plus a worldwide restriction on the use of plastic bags!

Nomad camp

Morocco continues the old, world-wide practice of having gates to mark the entrance to administrative areas. A large region might have small gates and a bustling town or city have something more grand, all the way to the truly impressive such as the Blue Gate in Fes.

District gate between Zagora and Rissani

Gate at the entrance to Rissani

Blue gate - Bab Bou Jeloud - Fes

Not all that far on the other side of bustling Rissani, we hit the piste again. Then a shadow growing on the horizon ….

Piste .... with a very faint blur on the horizon

The blur grows ....

And suddenly there it was …. the kasbah at the edge of rolling sand dunes … The Sahara!

Auberge Dunes D'Or

I noted the pool and swam later but right then went straight to my room. Enter through the courtyard, at the far end open the door to my terrace and ... the view: the Sahara, the dunes here called Erg Chebbi, and …… gum trees???!!! Is there nowhere that Australian eucalypts have not spread like weeds!!

Gum trees in the Sahara???!!!

After a long swim, a yummy alfresco meal and a chat with some Australians – it had been a while since I’d heard that accent! – I then wrote the last blog post before giving up to continue when I got home.

My clunky but faithful EeePC