Day 7 - 29 December 2007
Trip Start
Dec 23, 2007
1
8
16
Trip End
Jan 07, 2008
Merzouga,
Morocco
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My Ship of the Desert
. After a while we stopped at Rissani for an hour but I felt too ill to explore and wandered round to the rear of the coach, once everyone had got off, to empty the final contents of my stomach into a Sainsbury's carrier bag. My illusion that I was alone was shattered when I heard one of the guys say "Is this not a good time to ask for the corkscrew? I was the owner of the only corkscrew for the group and John wanted to borrow it. What timing!
Rissani is the last settlement before the dunes of the desert begin, and is the settlement of the Alaouite dynasty which has reigned for 300 years. I dozed while they visited the founder's Mausoleum and was woken by Mohammed who had bought me a big bottle of water and some dry biscuits, bless him.
We drove on, stopping for lunch en route, and I managed to eat a couple of biscuits. The Imodium had kicked in and I was slowly feeling more human. We were heading for Merzouga, which lies on the edge of Erg Chebbi, a desert area of spectacular sand dunes, and the Hotel Kasbah le Touareg. As soon as we arrived, I took my key, desperate to get some sleep for a few hours before we were due to go on a camel ride through the dunes. This hotel is made from local materials by local craftsmen, very traditional and I would imagine, pleasant during the warmer months. However, in December it was the coldest, most depressive cell like room I have ever stayed in
Taxi
. There was no heating and it was bitterly cold at night, there was just one main light which was so small and dim you could barely see. It was miserable. I crawled into bed, still shivering and was horrified to find the sheets were actually damp with the cold. I got out to lie on top, with a very thick blanket I had managed to find in the cupboard and thankfully, dropped off into a deep sleep. Five hours later and I'm on the back of a camel, crossing the sand dunes of the Sahara. I have a fondness for camel riding; have experienced it in Wadi Rum, Jordan and the Sahara in Tunisia. This though, was a much tamer, touristy type ride. Camels tethered together in a line and led by guides, not the sort of thing I expected and a little disappointing. Thank god for Imodium though, my stomach had finally settled and I could look forward to camping in the Berber tent in the desert tonight, under the stars. Had also camped out in the desert in Jordan with the Bedouins and it was a beautiful experience for many reasons.
Camel ride over, we then sat and watched the beautiful sunset at the Berber camp. I could smell dinner being cooked over the camp fire and felt ready to eat again. Not everyone in the group had elected to camp out; they were back in the fridge known as the Hotel Kasbah le Touareg enjoying a bout of hypothermia I imagine. Tour Operators please note. This hotel is a definite No No for cold winter nights unless it installs heating.
The dinner was good, traditional Moroccan fare of kebabs, salad, tagine and fruit. I was very careful to avoid the wine though, playing safe with water. It was a wonderful evening under the most beautiful night sky. There were so many stars you could hardly see black - it was so glittery. Mind you, was cold too and we finally snuggled down into our cosy sleeping bags for the night. I was woken from a great sleep two hours later by my urge to use the toilet. I became aware of how foolish I had been to eat again so quickly after an upset stomach. I should have stuck to water for 24 hours to give my stomach chance to settle down. Too late now though. I desperately tried to get back to sleep, hoping it would settle down but the need to go to toilet got worse. Not a problem in normal circumstances but in the desert, the toilet is a blue canvas cubicle that you move around in the sand and then dig a hole for the toilet. Stomach churning, I left the cosy comfort of my sleeping bag and crept through the tent, trying not to wake anyone and lifted the entrance flap, looking for the spade. It was propped up against the tent so I grabbed it and looked for the cubicle. Couldn't see it at first, and began to panic. I scanned frantically all around the area and finally saw it way in the distance in front of a sand dune. What kind of sicko had put it way over there I wondered? Was this some kind of joke? I felt another uncomfortable surge in my stomach and realised I was running out of time. If I didn't get to that cubicle pretty quick, there was going to be a rather unfortunate incident. I started to run and then immediately realised that was a bad move, you cannot run and clench your buttocks adequately at the same time so I reverted to a brisk walking pace but the damn cubicle still seemed miles away. Yet another surge down below and I knew without doubt I would never make it. DIG GIRL DIG! YOU HAVE TO GO NOW! RIGHT HERE! IN THE OPEN! My forehead and back were covered in beads of perspiration, despite the freezing night air, as I dug the fastest hole ever dug in the history of desert toilet hole digging. The urge to squat and push was all consuming - memories of childbirth abound. Finally I could hold off no longer and willingly gave way to nature. Totally oblivious of the fact I was in full view of the huge tent and it's occupants, I gave way to the sheer pleasure and relief this action provided. Deed done, I sheepishly readjusted my clothing, filled in the hole and slunk back to the tent, desperately praying that my actions had not been observed by anyone within.
I vowed there and then I would never touch red wine again - ever!
