First experiences from Africa, Crossing the Sahara part 1
I went to the very far Arctatica of the world, with snow or aurora. Also to the ancient cities to see the works of time. I often thought that those trips made me “oh, well” enough. The vision has been maximized. But it was only when I stepped into Africa in Morocco that I realized that the world was still wide, and there were many exclamation marks waiting.
With this desert journey, because I don’t know how to drive a car, I was forced to hire a far-flung tour on a 16-seat van. Looks like this is the way to explore popular deserts. When in the central market of Marrakech, countless buses arrived at 7:30 am to pick up passengers and take a route. In my group, only me and my partner are Asian, the rest are from the US, Europe, the Middle East and South America. And on time, the group started going in the dawn morning to leave Marrakech.
The trip from Marrakech starting from the dawn only stopped once on the outskirts of the city so that the whole team could eat breakfast quickly. After that, the car continued to leisurely with a speed of 70km / h.
The convoy was packed and sometimes staggered from the luggage compartment because of the winding roads entering deep into the Atlas Mountains via the Tizi Ntichka road. The American group kept telling each other, “You must always keep your body from losing your water” and hold the water bottle every 15 minutes. Each person holds two bottles, one hand-held and one to the top. So the majority of luggage dropped were water bottles. After an hour with grumpy bends like sunlight outside the window. The group, consisting of 2 men and 2 women, only held two bottles of water with them to avoid falling into the head.
“Those kids are innocent” – I told my sister K, my companion. After only one week in Spain going alone, it was great to be able to sit and judge others in Vietnamese with Ms Kim. Kim also giggled in agreement. She was in a cash-strapped situation, so it was not easy to sit on the car. Even for healthy people like me, I sometimes feel nauseous with the car going into the pothole or the rock in the middle of the sandy road.
Stop at a bend on Tizi Ntichka Road, where the Atlas Mountains and the winding roads below, where Kim and I were, spread the waves as if we were on a train. But the scene at the stop is strangely spectacular. The sun was more intense than it was in Marrakech, but I still had to wear a thick coat when I got out of the car because the temperature was not too high in winter in Morocco, and the winds were blown away by the Atlas Mountains. back down the road.
The car continues its path. Soon stop after 45 minutes.
A bearded guy, wearing a cobalt blue mantle, dotted with white patterns with Djellaba he wore on him, only flip-flops make his goodness a few points lower.
“Welcome everyone to Kasbah Ait Ben Haddou, I’m Brahim, who will guide our group to visit this area.”
Finally, there is a guide. Perhaps because I didn’t read the tour information too carefully, I always wondered why only a middle-aged driver followed, there was no shadow of others. The stops are all like rehearsals. Everyone in the group went down with the same puzzled look. Two Israeli guys sitting next to the driver have the task of communicating to the group of cars how many minutes will be stopped. Amazingly, the driver did not provide any further information about his stop.
But at least, at Kasbah Ait Ben Haddou, the group had Brahim instructed. I hope to hear good stories about this place.