The next day we started with a traditional breakfast of bread and fresh jam, before heading to our first stop, a small Moroccan Berber farming town where we visited some local rug makers. The skill and variety involved in the creation of those famous rugs was very impressive, and we looked through dozens of carpets while drinking the traditional Moroccan mint tea (Berber whiskey as the locals like to joke). The only thing they might be more skilled at than weaving rugs, is selling them. No less than half of our group of nearly broke backpackers ended up bemused that they had somehow bought a rug despite protests that they would never want a rug. There’s a reason these Berber traders have a reputation for fast dealing.
Our group gathered their wallets (now much lighter) and made our way up into another canyon, which served as a springwater source for a local river. We enjoyed the cool water as a respite from the heat of the day, and the girls in our group gathered quite an audience as they decided that it would be ok to go swimming in their underwear. In a Muslim country. During Ramadan. Fortunately they recieved nothing more than a few gaping stares. After lunch at a nearby restaurant, we had about an hour break while our driver napped for Ramadan, so I went wandering down to the river behind the building (fed by the same spring). As I walked out, a bunch of little Moroccan children squealed excitedly, then ran off. Bemused, I found a perch where I could enjoy the sounds of the stream and still see the rest of the group if they left.
Then the children came back. They started to try and talk to me, but since I speak only enough French to order a croissant and then say I don't speak French, it soon turned into a series of funny pantomimes. The kids then pointed to the stream, then me, then waded in (only about ankle deep water) and beckoned me to follow. I figured what the heck, might as well humor them. I waded in after them, and they thought it was hilarious. Then they took me across the stream to show me what appeared to be where they were making balls of mud, and they very seriously showed me through the motions. After a few minutes of splashing around (mostly them splashing each other), a man appeared on the stream bank and said, "where the hell have you been, the bus is waiting for you and the driver is very mad!"
That pretty much killed the fun I was having, so I quickly bid farewell to my funny little friends and grabbed my shoes and dashed up to the bus. Everyone was apparently bewildered as to where I could have gone (despite me telling them) but they thought my story was funny enough not to kill me for making them wait. So we pushed on across the desert in our lonely bus all afternoon, until we reached the base of a giant sand dune about an hour before sunset. It was here we met the camels and Berber guides for our night in the Sahara. I decided to name my camel Bob, because of his dreadlocks and calm demeanor. We hopped on our camels and started the hour long trek to our campsite.
Camels, despite their seemingly ergonomic shape, are not in the least bit comfortable. Especially, when your camels are not actually camels, but instead one humped andromedas. I was not aware there was a difference before my trip, but I was keenly aware of it after an hour having some of my most delicate areas mashed by that stupid camel (andromeda, whatever) hump. I can honestly say that when we arrived at our camp for the night, tucked in behind a massive dune, that I had never been so happy to get off a camel in my life.
Our group decided to scale the dune to try and catch the sunset on the other side while our guides prepared dinner. After about half an hour of trudging up the soft sand, we arrived at the top. We had missed the sunset, but there were still some spectacular views at the top. We all just sat there for a while in the warm red sand as darkness slowly crept across the barren desert below us. It had been a long journey to this spot, and we were all just happy to enjoy our moment in the Sahara.
It was dark by the time we made it back to our camp, where we sat on some rugs and had a delicious dinner of couscous with meat and vegetables, with some more Moroccan whiskey (mint tea, for those of you who haven't quite picked that up yet). After dinner we played some traditional drums with our guides, who put us to shame with their skills. After they left we halfheartedly tried to sing some songs, but realized that not a single one of us knew the words to an entire song. It was pretty sad haha. We called it a night, and moved our beds from the tents out to the carpet so we could all enjoy the spectacular view of the milky way, and the millions of brilliant stars. I have never had such a magnificent roof over my head at night.
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