Around this time last year, my friend sent me a message in Facebook saying that she was now working in a luxury resort in Marrakesh. I jokingly replied that I would visit her there. And waddaya know, a year later I was stepping off the plane and into Casablanca. One of the cities of Morocco.
I must admit that I felt ill-prepared for the trip. I didn't research well enough into the train system. What stations are on the way from Casablanca to Marrakesh. I didn't learn enough French.
I didn't know that in Morocco it was normal for trains to be delayed, to suddenly stop in the middle of nowhere (I initially thought we were being held up and I half-expected a gun-slinging cowboy to suddenly appear in front of my window) and for train departures to be every hour if you're lucky and every two hours if you're not, just like me.
After 15 hours of flying, a two hour layover in Dubai, a four hour train ride not to mention almost freezing in the train station waiting for the next train, I found myself almost crying with relief when I finally saw my friend Amandine at the Marrakesh train station.
She whipped me off for a quick crepe dinner and we got home for an early night in since we had to wake up early for our trip to the Sahara the next day. Yes, for those who don't know, Morocco sits on the African continent but is on the Mediterranean coast sitting very close to the Arabic nations of the Middle East. Talk about cultural halo-halo. But it is still a predominantly Islamic country so I had to leave behind (not with some regret) all my cutesy summer stuff, lest I get harassed every time I go out.
The next day we were bright and early for our road trip to Western Sahara. To get to the desert from Marrakesh, we had to go over the Atlas mountains cross Ourzazate (pronounced as Your-za-za-what? :D ) and to the edge of Zagora into the Draa Valley where the beginnings of the Western Sahara is being occupied by Morocco.
That's a journey totalling more than 400 kms. Half of that is spent on the twisting and turning roads of the Atlas mountains. I got so sick during the car ride, I puked my guts out at the next pit stop. Walang-wala ang road to Baguio.
But the vistas we saw on the way were really breathtaking. A lot different from anything I've seen before. Truly travel widens your horizon, not just figuratively but literally!
We bought some blue shawls (shawls nga ba tawag dun?) for our camel ride into the desert. The blue shawls are the trademark of the Taureg desert tribe or so-called blue men because of the blue shawls and robes they usually wear.
Riding a camel wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I mean its difficult to fall off but its quite hell on the butt and lower back. And not to mention that the hump of the camel is quite wide so you are almost doing a split while straddling it.
We rode for about two hours in order to reach our desert camp or bivouac as the French call it. My friend said that it was a luxury camp. But there was no sign of luxury when we got there. Well, there was a bathroom and a dining tent, but luxurious would be the last word to describe it. But anyway, I'm just whining. I still can't believe that I'm actually in the desert and I'm going to spend the night there! Not under the stars, that would be too cold.
After dinner the Taureg men, (who are quite handsome I should say) did a little production number with desert intruments that look like bongo drums to me. It was fun and the food served was quite delicious in fairness. I really love tagine. Must find some Moroccan food in this city.
After dinner we tried to walk off the food by going around the camp and looking at the stars. Iba pa rin ang night sky sa desert. The stars are really so numerous. The whole sky was twinkling. It was a very beautiful sight.
(To be continued....)
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