Waking
up early I thought I would catch the sun rise over the desert. To my
surprise a dozen or so white people were making a pilgrimage over
the sand boarding dune. As I watched them awkwardly attempt to climb
the sand I realized our camels, who if you remember were tied down by
the joint so they could not walk, were once again gone.
I
figured that we would either be walking back to town or waiting a
number of hours for our guide to wrangle them up once again. Fearful
of the latter I began looking for them. Not long into my search I
spotted Discovery around the bend. Not far ahead was Poopy.
Both
camels were still shackled but had somehow managed to stand up and
hobble away with the use of only three legs. The tourists were pretty
horrified by the sight. After catching up to them I pet Discovery on
the head. They must have assumed that I was the one who had tired
them down because they all started taking pictures of me, the evil
camel man. Back at Berber camp we had a quick breakfast and packed
up.
Hair!
The
trip to the city was about the same as our previous camel treks. Once
we started encountering people again we instantly felt less cool as
we realized in the desert camel rides are the equivalent of the
segway tour. We were those guys. My legs were killing me by the end.
Riding a camel is like riding a really fat clumsy house.
Upon
arrival we were offered the chance to shower. Wanting to arrive at
Ouarzazate before nightfall we politely declined. They seemed
slightly offended and acted as if we thought their showers were inferior. We paid no attention and hopped in our car which
now had been adorned with some more local art. We were unsure at the time
of what it was but after further research it is the Berber symbol for
freedom.
Our
Dacia Logan forged down the desert highway towards another slew of towns whose names we can not pronounce. Until now the roads had been pretty
good but on out way to Aït Benhaddou we experienced driving conditions
closer to what we experienced in South Africa.
The landscape quickly
morphed from sand to hills to mountains and snow was once again
visible in the distance. Intriguing forms of geographical
masterpieces were scattered throughout our drive.
We
grabbed lunch halfway though our trip at a small cafe by a gas
station in the middle of nowhere. They had the berber symbol on the
wall so we hoped our cars new accessory would put us in a good light.
They also had an interesting toilet. You had to pee into the hole in
the floor, fill the bucket with water, pour it down the hole, then
force it all down the pipe with the plunger. It scared Tim, especially since the door didn't lock and a man walked in on him while he was trying to figure our the process.
Tim
ordered a Moroccan salad and I asked for an omelet. The waitress didn't
speak English and got a bit confused with our order. We were brought two of each dish.
The
last highway we had to take to get to Aït Benhaddou was a two way highway that was only wide enough for a single car. There was a broken
shoulder you had to pull off to if you lost the game of chicken. We
spent a lot of time veering off as we discovered we were particularly
terrible at chicken. It seemed like the oncoming drivers could sense
our American weakness and knew we would eventually cave. There were also a number of vehicles that could easily destroy us like this:
We
strolled into the quaint little town and found our lodging for the
evening. This hostel was run by a French family and the
accommodations were nicer than most of the places we had been
staying.
We
grabbed dinner in the restaurant downstairs and headed to bed.
Tomorrow its off to Marrakesh.
