Sahara Nights

Noone ever tells you to bring a flyswatter to the desert. I think this is important information to have.

Leaving Essaouira was a hard thing to do, especially after the fantastic friends that I made there. It was made slightly easier by the thought of catching up with Zsofi again. The magic of having a partner in crime equally as unemployed and adventurous as I am is a rare and valuable thing.

After a brief dash back to Marrakesh and a visit to a hamam, Zsof and I were off to the Sahara to ride camels and 4x4s and get a little sand in our shoes. Actually, a lot of sand… everywhere.

We rode with CTM bus from Marrakesh, because they had better service to Zagora. If you find yourself lost and looking for the station, grab a taxi, they are cheap. Or follow the painted signs.

The bus ride overnight to Zagora was hilarious. I have never seen that much wobble from anything maintaining a straight line. At one point, I think the French lady on the radio used the word “unpossible.” We even passed a sign said “Afrougasm.” Everyone should ride a bus so crazy.

Even before we made it to Zagora, we were being offered Sahara trips by everyone; from quiet conversations from other people on the bus to the incessant shouts of “Sahara! Sahara!” at every bus stop in every town. My new friend, Lucas, gave me the sound advice of simply catching a bus to the city close to the Sahara and picking up with a tour company there. It’s easy to find a tour company that will do anything you want, and as you get closer to the source, you get a better idea of what you are getting from the guide. Ultimately, most of the tour companies use the same guides, camels, and trucks as every one else.

Rose des Sable, meaning the Desert Rose, refers to a geological occurrence where rock mass is altered by sand, wind, and water to look like something of a floral pattern. It also happens to be quite a popular name for hotels in the desert. This is how we wound up in a completely different city than I had originally planned.

The Lonely Planet guide to Europe on a Shoestring includes Morocco. It speaks of a hotel by that name in Zagora, near the high deserts. I had originally planned on visiting the Sahara much farther east near Merzouga and Erg Chebbi. Turns out, Erg Chigaga was just as impressive.

Rose des Sables in Zagora was great. We had some initial issues that needed to be ironed out, but the staff was marvelous about fixing whatever was amiss. We had some great moments lost in translation, like when the hotel told Zsofi, “We don’t have hot milk” and we both looked at each other and just decided to let it go.

We walked around the city investigating all the tour shops, a practice that reminded me far too much of the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia. The whole experience was a freakshow; teenagers chasing us up and down the streets on their rattling motorbikes shouting prices at us; way too much tea; prices ranging wildly from agency to agency. One kid started yelling at us every time he saw us (even days later on our return) cursing and demanding to know if we were mad at him.

One thing to remember here, and just about everywhere with a generally low average income, is that all of the locals see themselves as poor and see you as being rich. This may or may not be true, but to them it is a near unshakable belief. The basis of all commerce in Morocco is finding a price that the buyer can afford and that the seller with profit from. This means you need to initially offer much lower than you expect to pay and make concessions until the seller comes down to a price that you find acceptable. It’s not lying, it’s just the way this system works. Drink the tea, chat with the agencies, and don’t feel bad about walking out and going to another place even if you have to do it a dozen times a day to get what you want. If you are the sort of person who enjoys haggling, this makes for a marvelous day; if you are me, it makes for a headache.

Get familiar with the phrase, “What’s your best price?” You will be hearing a lot of it.

In the end, we booked three days through the Rose des Sables with a handshake to seal the deal; some grip of honor from days gone by. Zsofi even got them to throw in free turbans, or shash.

Camels are just as comfortable to ride as you expect them to be.

I hope you don’t mind me taking the mystery out of that fact of desert life. Houda once told me of her camel riding experience on the coast of Morocco. The beast charged the surf and dumped her into the water and walked off. My camel was a little better behaved, but as soon as he thought someone was going to jump in the saddle, he would stand up. This made mounting up something of a gymnastics competition; getting close enough to him that I could jump on before he could stand all the way up.

The first day was amazing. The sand skittering across the ground like a plague rolling in, blasting into the air and obsuring the sunset; diffusing the light around us like glowing mist. It is definitely a sight to see.

We were the only people at our camp the first night, and dragged some spare blankets out near the extinguished fire pit to look at the sky. Through the night, one of the Bedouins walked up to us and said a great one line; possibly the only Englsih he knew.

“Welcome to the Hotel of a Thousand Stars.”

A thousand is a gross understatement. If every living thing ever in existence on this Earth became a point of light in the sky, we would barely register. A thousand million billion gazillion brazilian stars covered the night in the most abberant display of lighting I have been privy to. The deserts of California hold skies that come close, but somehow it just seemed filled to bursting in that old silk traders hideout.

The next day was more awesome camel-tastic adventuring, but towards the end of the day, my nether regions had just had enough, and I jumped down to walk with our guide.

In the afternoon, we found an oasis and camped out to cook some lunch over a small fire and enjoy a nap in the shade of the small trees.

There were some goats running around, and when I asked where the water was, he pointed out a chunk of metal laying on the ground that was covering a well dug deep into the earth.

After a short nap… under a tree… at an oasis… in the Sahara… (yeah, I still think it sounds cool) a 4×4 Range Rover pulled up and we hopped in with our new guide, Mohamed, leaving our faithful (mostly) camel steeds with our camel guide Mohamed and took off to truly endanger our lives for the first time in at least 24 hours.

The immensity of this place, the vast distance of nothing, is staggering.

On our last day, the sandstorms came in. We had enjoyed several beautiful warm and calm days, and even a nice morning, but as we started to pack up the Rover, things got nasty. It was nearly impossible to see clearly for more than 30 yards in any direction. We could barely see the people at the edge of the camp loading up on their camels for the miserable day ahead of them.

On the ride back, our driver offered to take us through the back sections of desert towns, past all manner of donkey conveyances and squat dwellings. It truly was the other side of life in Morocco; the side you don’t see on the tourist track.

All night buses have never been the same since Argentina, but they are sometimes a necessity. Back in Zagora, the Rose des Sables provided us with a room to shower up and change clothes after our three day sojourn in the wilderness. It was just what we needed before jumping on the bus for a place I had been waiting a very long time to visit: Casablanca!

Wrap Up:

Bring a flyswatter. Bring toilet paper. Check the weather.

When booking tours: get close to the source. The closer you are to the site the more companies you will find doing the same thing, and competition among providers means good things for consumers. Do not listen to hotels in Marrakesh or other cities telling you they are offering you a reduced rate for booking ahead; it is a rip off.

Don’t accept bad behavior from tour operators. There are too many out there that deserve your money for you to give it to people with bad business practices. Find one you like, and then after you have paid, insist on what you paid for.

Have fun. Ask weird questions, and always sit with the guides and locals and prod them for stories. You will be richly rewarded.