About 2/3 of our stay in Africa was in our tent, whether it was out in nature or on a private lawn. The rest was in hotels and hostels, but there were also the more unconventional huts, riads, and Bedouin camps, some of which offered amazing views or beautiful details. Each place reminds me of the events and experiences that took place - how fortunate we are to live so fully. This post means we wrapped up our adventures in this part of the world. So many memories made, yet still so many more to follow.
NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK
Our visit to Morocco culminated in the windswept dunes of the Sahara where footprints are imaginary and even the lowest of whispers float to distant lands. Here hidden treasures lurk and there exist stairways to the heavens. A force to be reckoned with, it is also unforgiving and will swallow whole anything and anyone that's not careful.
Three steadfast dromedaries carried us into the majestic Erg Chebbi where we stayed at a Berber camp whose walls and floors were covered in carpets upon carpets, magical in their ability to summon a desire to live a semi-nomadic life. If we stayed out there all night every night, there's still no telling how many lifetimes it would take to kiss all the stars in the sky.
In the single evening we were there, it took just a split second to lose a key. Hoping for a miracle, but expecting defeat, we scoured the earth as the wind, carrying millions of secrets, whipped our skin. As if not enough, the beating of drums and laughing of hearts from the neighboring camp tantalized us. A couple of hours in and we surrendered.
Before leaving the next morning we paid respect to the desert and in the face of its beauty, we learned to forgive ourselves. We quickly made alternative arrangements back at the riad and as everything was coming together, a last-ditch effort to find the key revealed a hidden treasure that was lurking nearby all along. The desert heard our cries.
BICYCLETTES
City driving in Morocco is not for the faint-hearted and when looking for your riad in the medina, in Marrakech no less, it gets that much more intense. We turned down narrow roads searching high and low, only finding locals shaking their fingers at us, trying to communicate that cars are not allowed where we were going. Interdit, interdit. After a lot of reversing, u-turning, and doubling back, we finally managed to find our place hiding at the end of a small alleyway tucked between the busy souks.
That afternoon an attempt to visit the leather tanneries sent us on another wild goose chase - this time by foot - and along the way, I discovered the keys to navigating the old city. They're colorful. They're charming. They're compact. And they're damn efficient.
