First week in Brazil...

Today is December 10th 2014. Tomorrow it will be 1 year Angelina and I have been together since we started dating in Varanassi, India...and I have not planned anything to celebrate.  :o(

Yesterday, I completed my first week in Brazil since I landed on December 2nd.

This first week has been so incredibly intense in so many ways. Emotions, activities, encounters, languages, transportations, walks...

The last time I was in Sao Paulo was in 2006 for a summer internship I did before starting my MBA. My experience in the city back then was not all that great. Aside from the great people I befriended, I left not being a big fan of this city...at all.,,unlike Rio or Salvador. So returning to Sao Paulo to actually live here and settle down produced quite a lot of confusion and anxiety in me. If it were not for Angelina, I would definitely never have even thought of ever going back to that city. But as they say, the heart has its reasons that the reason does not have. So voila...8 years later, I landed in this ginormous city again.

When landing, I had a delightful surprise not only to see my Lollipop waiting for me with the biggest smile, but, without telling me, she took advantage of my relative naivety and blurry memory of the city to take me 200 km away to this little Swiss like mountain village for two days, to give us time to reunite again, and for me to slowly and smoothly transition from heavenly country side Morocco to crazy concrete urban Sao Paulo.

So we spent two relaxing days in a little wooden chalet, in the middle of nature, napping, walking, and eating. It was very nice. My two months in Morocco were so incredible that I must admit I was dreading quite a bit leaving Morocco after finally managing to have built a group of fantastic friends and discovered to a good extent the field of permaculture. So I did indeed need a smooth transition...

It is strange how for weeks, whenever someone would ask me if I were stressed about the idea to drop everything and move to Brazil to start literally anew, I would always answer "no", and sincerely felt no stress nor anxiety whatsoever about such a life change. But when we left the chalet that morning after breakfast, it finally suddenly hit me. BAM!!! I started having a big headache. As we were getting closer to the city, the traffic started to intensify and the sky to get darker and darker, pouring rain all over the city. Ouf! what a way to arrive in a city. Black rainy sky. Well, knowing the serious water scarcity crisis Sao Paulo is going through, the rain was actually a great thing. The more it rains, the better. And that's actually the way I felt. So, no, the weather did not have much impact on my morale. Yes, I was now in Brazil, my life was about to take a drastic turn, and at last it was becoming concrete...and yes...I was stressed and anxious. But I was trying to convince myself that perhaps the fact that it was raining as I was entering the city was rather a good omen. 

Once we made it through the traffic, we went to Angelina's brother's (Anderson) apartment, where Angelina has been staying since she returned from her trip, to drop off all my bags, and quickly change before going to meet up her best friend (Natalia) and then go have dinner at her father's. It is then that I understood why Angelina had always refused to show me the apartment when we were chatting on skype. lol Talk about a drastic dramatic change from what I had gotten used to while staying at my parents in Morocco. hahaha! ouf! Everyone is different, so I will not judge. Lets just say that finding our own place to live became right away on top of the priority list.

Since her brother was studying for a big exam he was to take a few days later, we decided to sleep at her father's for a couple of nights. A very cute little apartment in a different neighborhood. So yes, that same evening, I got to meet her dad. Haha! he is so funny and cute, and seems to be obsessed by cooking Japanese food for us. Bring it on! I love it! Angelina's step mom being away for the week, it was just the three of us having dinner. Her dad moved from Japan to Brazil when he was in his early 20's, and so has maintained a very strong core of the Japanese culture...including the language. So I did enjoy quite a bit trying to identify when he was speaking Japanese from when he was speaking Portuguese. The food was delicious, and the dinner a lot of fun. A big thank you to my parents for having taught me early on in my childhood how to eat with chop sticks. I think it helped me shine a bit during the dinner. hehe! 

I strongly believe that parents personality says a lot about their children's core personality, and Angelina's father seems to have a genuine kind heart. Not surprising given how incredibly kind-hearted Angelina is.

If it had been up to her dad, we would have stayed several days at his apartment and he would have cooked for us for every single meal...not necessarily such a bad idea. hahaha!

The rest of the week went by quickly. Angelina took me to various places in the city to show me the surrounding neighborhoods. I quickly became familiar with the curious and challenging topography of the city and its public transportation options.

On Saturday I ran again for the very first time since my ankle "accident" more than 3 years ago in Miami. Wow! I only ran 5 K, but it felt so amazing to run again. Endorphin pumping out of my brain like crazy! I only hope that my ankle will hold solid and allow me to really start running again. I have my doubts...my surgery was done in Miami, not in France.

Sunday was a Sunday unlike any other I have had with Angelina. I was only in the country for a couple of days and already she gave me the privilege to introduce me to her mom. Angelina's mom passed away of cancer about 11 years ago. (Her passing away was a bit of the ignition that got Angelina to start travelling.) And so that Sunday, Angelina and her dad took me to the cemetery to bring flower to her, and without actually telling me so, introduced me to her mother. I am not sure what went on in Angelina's head as she knelt down and put her hand on her mother's plaque for several minutes, but in my head, I directly spoke to her mother, as if I were meeting her alive. I told her how lucky I was to be with her daughter, and how honored I was to finally meet her. How proud she should be to have given birth to and raised such an incredible being. It was strange, but in some way I could almost feel her energy talking back to me and taking part to the conversation. Though we didn't stay there for long, I sort of wished we had. I would have wanted to sit there, and silently continue to converse with her.

Sunday evening, we went to meet up with my cousin, Philippe, who just moved to Brazil with his family, to work for the Group Accor. His job responsibilities just seem so incredibly interesting, filled with exciting challenges. Ouf! it made me reconsider the corporate world again. Ah! Good thing is that for the first time in about 15 years I will have another family member living in the same country and continent as me. What a change!!!

Angelina has been incredible since I landed in Brazil. She just wont let me move a finger. She is doing everything she can to make my days as positive and happy as possible. It almost makes me feel useless, but she is so happy in doing so that I do not want to tell her to stop just yet. The more I hear her talk about her social bar project, the more I realize how passionate she is and how many projects she has done while she was traveling and impacting the lives of thousands of people. I truly admire her. Something crucial in a relationship, isn't it? I'm curious to know if she has any admiration for me and based on what. 

This first week, despite it all, has not been easy at all for me. My father often talks about the contrast between the comfort and safety of a closed door vs the adventurous and mysterious opportunities of an open door. In other words, comfort vs risks. Well, being in Brazil now feels like I have removed any kind of closed door that was in front of me. Leaving the known and remotely safe for the totally unknown. My head has been spinning non stop, like a tornado of confusion, doubts, fears, and questioning. Am going nuts not knowing what to do with my life. And I thought that 2 years of traveling would help me see clearer. It did open my eyes to a lot of things, but sadly, I am realizing that it has not helped figure out what it is specifically that I want to do. Or perhaps it has? I know I love to work with people. Help them come up with creative solutions and ideas to improve their lives or their businesses. I love business, strategy, marketing, operations, customer experience, sales strategy...To some degree it feels like I should be a consultant, but I refuse to work at helping the rich get richer while money is being wasted on the wrong things.  I think that instead of panicking I will just sit down and work on a life plan. Try to define the kind of life I want to have with the context I am in now, and the potential ways to get there. I think I already have a vague idea, now the question is how deep am I willing to dive and how much am I willing to risk to get there. hmmm...

A lot is going through my mind. I only wish all my best friends could be around me for a week or so, right now, to not only cheer me up but help me think through it all. 

I miss being surrounded by permaculture.

Anicca, Anicca...

Transiting through the Big Apple...and the snow!

Ah, Between Morocco and Brazil I had planned to swing by Connecticut to see Sonja and her beautiful family for Thanksgiving. Since I spent Thanksgiving there the year before I started my trip, I thought it would be a great idea to close my trip to spend another Thanksgiving at Sonja's again. Plus it would give me the opportunity to see her little monkeys, Surya and Milan. Last time we all hung out together was in Dehli, in December last year, for Naina's wedding. We spent about 10 days together. So I really missed them. And big bonus, Mushu and her beau would also be able to join!!!!!

First I landed in NYC and got to spend two fays in the big apple catching up with Lilly. We last hung out in Dakar at Astou's. NYC in the Xmas season is just delightful.

The week at Sonja's went by so fast, way to fast. I would have loved to stay there twice as long. Woodbury where she lives is in the middle of nowhere...and the middle of nowhere is also beautiful during the Xmas season. We even got to build a snow man with the kids and have a snow ball fight while we were at it.

The Thanksgiving dinner was absolutely delicious. I had rarely attended a meal where just about every single dish was made to perfection. Did that have to do with the fact that I helped out with the cooking? hahahaha! just kidding!  :op

For the whole week I was there I dont think we managed to go to sleep before 2 or 3 in the morning. We had so many interesting conversations. That week made me realize how much work two kids can require. And how challenging it can be for two parents to have two full time jibs and two kids to care for at the same time. Wow! Kudos to Sonja and Dalip as well as all the other working parents out there!!!

I miss those monkeys already!

I spent my last night at Mushu's in NYC. Thank God she came with me to the airport the next evening, as I had so many bags, and maneuvering around the NYC metro loaded like a mule would have been quite interesting.

Each one of the steps that got me closer to Brazil produced a bit of anxiety and a nod in my stomach. The end of the PDC course, leaving Morocco, leaving Woodbury, leaving NYC...I guess I was on my way to settling down, sort of, and starting a long term relationship for the first time in years, but making a full 180 degree turn from what I had been used to for the past two years on the road.

And so I left the NYC Xmas snow for the Brazilian tropical giant urban monster...

Two months of Moroccan heaven!

After spending about 4 months of intense travelling in West Africa, I was quite happy to get to Morocco, home sweet home. However, once I finally was there, after a couple of days I got a bit concerned about the perspective of spending 2 whole months at home without having much of a plan to keep me busy.

First things first, I had signed up for my very first Permaculture Design Course (PDC) which was to start a week after I arrived in Morocco. I had been so desperately looking for a PDC for months when I was in Africa, and this one showed up on the web and fitted perfectly with my time line. What better way to end a 20 months backpacking trip including 4 months of rough west African adventure, than to spend two weeks in a tent, using dry toilets, eating vegetarian food, and having 10 liters of cold water per day to bath with?! Lol  I had no real clue what to expect from this course, but so many people along my trip told me about permaculture. I just had to do it.

For those who don’t know what permaculture is about, just look it up on line. It is based on the principle of permanent culture. Mother nature created all the plants on the planet for them to cohabit and symbiotically sustain…and us humans have been doing everything in our power to destroy mother nature's beautiful plan, strongly believing that we know better than what has been working for millions of years well before we even existed. Ha!

Gosh, I was far from thinking that this PDC course would be so mind blowing. The site where we stayed at was overlooking the ocean shore, only a short 800 meter walk in the sand dunes. All the students were sleeping in tents by groups of two per tent. Each had a specific chore to do during the course. The dry toilets were outside spread out in the garden. The rooftop of the semi finished house had a spectacular view of the sunset. Perfect spot to light candles, and lounge after dinner listening to some of the students playing the guitar and singing songs in different languages.

Each day we all ate together the home cooked tajines made by the neighbors  around the big wooden table.

When we didnt watch the sunset on the roof of the house we would all walk to the beach and swim in the freezing cold waves waiting for the sun to make its final daily salute to this side of the earth.

In the morning we would wake up early to go run on the beach while the sun was rising. Ending it with a quick freezing dip.

All the students were from so many different backgrounds. It was fascinating all the great conversations we were able to have. The teacher and his family were unbelievable. Look him up, Darren Doherty. And well, being a traveler, I was just in awe in front of our hosts, Mark and Ayelen and their beautiful little baby girl Gaya. Mark Anstice, look him up as well, you will understand!!!

Anyway, aside from getting my mind blown away with regard to permaculture and looking at a totally new way to care for the planet, food, and the people, this course also allowed me to make the most amazing of friends. So amazing that once the course was over, we spent the next 2 weeks hanging out all together in Marrakesh not being able to let go of each other. So yes, for the very first time, I felt like Morocco would be a place where I could potentially settle down in the future. I had the family, and now the friends. Ilham, Celine, Julien, Mehdi, Tori, Leila, Anthony, Sylvain, Jerome, Karim, Nadine, Ahmed, MArk, Aylen...Plus Morocco is a heaven for agriculture. I like to say that in Morocco, when you pee a tree grows.

After the course I was so psyched by what I had learnt that I did all I could to plant the seed into my parents mind. hehe! sounds a lot easier said than done.

My dad has been planting gardens since he was a child. So the traditional way of agriculture was very well ingrained in his mind. Now try telling him that all these years he was doing things wrong...or that there are much better ways to do it. ha! Slowly but surely and thanks to a few youtube videos it finally worked! yay!  So we started to build a few types of compost at home, and he got quite into it. It made me super happy and motivated me even more. 

Ilham, as amazingly well connected as she is, managed to get us all to go to the safran harvest in Morocco's largest safran farm. Celine, Ilham, Leila, Julien, Tori, and I went there, accompanied by the managers of the farm and a couple of industry experts. We spent a fantastic day picking safran at 6 in the morning before sunrise, having breakfast right on the farm overlooking the safran sprouts, and learning about the whole safran value chain. The night before at the hostel, we even got to eat multiple safran-based dishes. yummmmm!!! 

One afternoon, after we all hung out together, we decided to go to Ilham and Julien's huge land, (where they plan to do a massive permaculture project) to camp for the night all together. I managed to even get my parents to tag along. We were a dozen. It was a magical night. All there in the middle of nowhere  at the foot of the Atlas mountains, covered by a blanket of bright stars, eating delicious tajins and grilled meats, playing the drums and dancing with sticks lit on fire, under the stars and by the huge bon fire. I almost wished that it would never end. I am pretty sure my parents had a blast. We played a board game called Loup Garoux until 3 or 4 in the morning, all snuggled in sleeping bags and blankets under the berber camel hair tent.

About two and a half week before I was to leave Morocco, Angelina made me the amazing surprise to decide to come visit me in Morocco...well, not me but rather my parents so as to meet them in person, since once I would be in Brazil after that, it would be a bit challenging for us (financially especially) to make it back to Morocco any time soon. (Big disadvantage of not having a job for 2+ years)

I was so happy. It had been 5 months since we last saw each other. And well, the timing couldnt have been more perfect. two days after she arrived it was my mom's birthday. hehe! Perfect gift! She stayed a whole of 10 days. Ha! It was nice to be in once place for 10 days and not travel at all. What a change!

The 10 days went by super fast. Eating, napping, walking...and the longest meals Angelina probably ever had in her life. French style! hehehe! You sit down for lunch time and you only get up from the table once you have finished the dinner desert. lol 

Angelina took her plane back to Brasil...and soon it was my turn. Though I was looking forward to joining her in Brazil and start our actual life together, I was also at the same time sad about leaving Morocco.

I think I secretly hope (not that secret I suppose since I am writing it on this blog) that one day I will settle down in Morocco.

Here are some photos...

PDC Course: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157649706788105/

Safran harvest: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157649693079102/

Angelina's visit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157649292766130/

Mali photos!!!

Bamako: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647876584370/

Dogon Country: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647874822247/

Djenne: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647876616940/

Mauritania!!!

Nouakchott: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647870092387/

Atar: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648271173632/

Terjit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648271173632/

Ouadane: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648228359996/

Chinghetti: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648291541745/

 
Iron Ore Train: https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647870124177/

Saint Louis in north west Senegal

https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648270957832/

Bassari Country in south east Senegal

https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157648269948762/

Photos of Africa at last!!!!!!!

Here are some photos unedited from my amazing stay in Dakar.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157647865581110/

September 26/27, home sweet home

I must be blessed. I must be doing something right.

This morning I woke up a bit anxious as to how I would cross the 1500km from Dakhla to Marrakech given the bus situation that got confirmed to me last night. So I was not really able to swallow anything for breakfast despite Fatima's father's constant "Comer, pan, queso! Comer!"

While the women were still sleeping and after the men finished taking their early breakfast, we took off. For some reasons Abdullah was confident I would get a bus ticket. And so he drove us to the main bus agency where I went last night and asked the woman at the counter about available seats for the same day. The one detail I didn't know was that this woman was a friend of his wife. Little yet crucial detail in such culture. And miraculously after a while, she managed to find me a ticket for 50euros officially departing 2 hours later. Miracle. I wanted to jump above the counter and hug the woman!

After this, Abdullah and his father went to check out a travel agency in order to inquire about ticket for Fatima to return to Spain. They found a decent ticket for the same day as well.

The day couldn't start Any better.

Abdullah doesn't have a steady job. The job market in town is quite bad and thus he pretty much takes whatever temp job he can find. Mostly in the fishing industry though...which on average pays about 6 euros a day!

As I was waiting in the car while he purchased the ticket for his sister, when he walks back I see him gently hitting his forehead with his hand, sort of as a sign of disappointment. I don't understand. And he stays there, staring at his back wheel. I get out and finally understand. Totally flay tire, 20 minutes before my bus official departure time from the other side of town. I felt terrible as his car being an old big 4x4 it uses relatively expensive tires. I barely had any cash on me, and I definitely didn't have any time to wait for the car to be fixed. He seemed just as worried about me catching my bus as by his tire. I told him not to worry about me and to go fix his tire. I would manage to get to the station fine by cab. No worries. He stops a cab in the street, tells me to jump in and jumps in as well, leaving his 73year old dad alone on the curb. Once at the station he makes sure I get all the info and know where to wait for the bus departure which would obviously be quite delayed, hugs me good bye with a big smile, and takes off.

I was so amazed and stunned that despite all the goodness in his heart and what he did this morning for me and his sister, he got a flat tire which would mean financial costs, and yet, not a sparkle of anger in him. Voila a pure example of what Vipassana teaches you. The road of life is bumpy, but keep smiling and loving others as if there was no bump. Anger and stress doesn't bring any benefit.

The bus delay, checking in, loading, and boarding was quite a chaotic mess, Morocco at its "best". Lol though yet again, the man who was in charge of the logistics for the check in and luggage's loading was amazingly kind and helpful with me despite that I was the only foreigner around. Given how people around him treated him he could have been mean and sour. But no. Total opposite...at least with me. Genuine kindness.

In the bus I got a good seat, and my neighbor, a veiled 40 something year old local so didn't speak a word of French seemed very nice and friendly. She right away offered me half of all the foods she had in her bag. Gosh! It is weren't for the sharing cultural side of the Muslim world, I would think that I must look very skinny for people always wanting me to eat. Lol

We try to communicate. She is actually super funny and loves to laugh.

She won't stop offering me food for the next 21 hours of our trip. And so I try to offer her food as well every time I can.

Once we had left the Dakhla region, the landscapes were not all that interesting at all. But thinking back about the whole ride from Nouadhibou until here made me have such a feeling of admiration for my Argentine friend Pablo who did it all by bicycle. I kept on trying to figure out how in the world he did it. The distances between each tow and source of water and food are just so huge, and there is no shade whatsoever.

So as the night approached, and as my neighbor started falling asleep, I pulled out my iPod. During my whole trip I have rarely used my iPod as I usually try to interact or observe with all my senses what is happening around me. But my trip is getting to an end and I missed listening to some good music. It also helped me overcome my slightly impatience to arrive in Marrakech.

It felt like the ride was never going to end. My whole body was sore and impatient to arrive. As the sun rose, my neighbor elbowed me a couple of times so that I would look at the guy across the aisle leaning forward asleep in a funny way. When I saw it, we both started laughing.
And finally we arrived in Marrakech...at last, I reached back home...I haven't given much time to myself thus far yo really think about and digest all that has happened for the past almost two years. The thing is though, that deep inside, I strongly believe that the adventure is not over, but rather that it is ongoing and will never stop until I take the mental decision to end it. Why would I do so?! Every day is an adventure...or better said everyday is part of an adventure...that gets more and more exciting as experiences accumulate.

The coming two months in Morocco will be fantastic.

September 25th, crossing over the Sahara

What a looooonnnnng day! Very anxious in the end but all went well.

This morning I got on board of the most expensive public transportation I have been on thus far for such a "short" distance.

The Bamako-Dakar bus ride of 33 hours did cost me $60. But today's right of only 12hrs cost me $40. So it upset me quite a bit, but my other option would have been hitch hiking and I was way to tired for that. So OK, I got in a car with four other people, including a young Saharawi who lives in the Basque Country and this spoke Spanish. And off we went. The landscape out of Nouadhibou was beautiful. The closer we got to the border the more cadavers of old cars we saw all over the place. Especially on the no man's land separating the Mauritanian border from the Moroccan border. What a sight! Especially when everyone knows that 95% of these cars are all stolen cars from Europe. I kept on wondering the face their real owners would make if they saw their cars there. Lol

Exiting Mauritania was simple and smooth.  But entering Morocco was another story. A lot more safety precaution and a lot more dumb brainless police officers. One of them, as I entered the visa office for people arriving from Mauritania even asked me 3 times if I was entering Morocco. Doh! What else could I be doing in this pit of the world of a location since i had just exited Mauritania. So I told him "yes" each time but he never seemed to really understand and finally gave up and let me through. Ufff...

All the other passengers had no trouble crossing the border and entering the country.

Oh yes, three funny events. First, when going through my bag at the customs, the office found a wooden slingshot I had bought in Mali. I started laughing at how ridicule if he had considered this a real weapon. He quickly realized how silly indeed it would have been, and let me through.

Second, the visa office has an officer just there to fill up the basic info form for each traveler. This for is the one that they give away to passengers in the plane about to land. Thus this form could be filled up by each traveler but no one seemed to know this and all queued up to hours waiting for their for to be filled up before being able to walk next door to get the entry stamp. So I asked for the form and filled I up myself. I saved a lot of time...but what for anyway as the other passengers and the driver blindly followed the rest of the flock though I tried to tell them.

Third, as i was in line to exit Mauritania, and since we were in the bright burning sun, a huge Libyan man asked if he could borrow my hat (i wasn't using it since I had my turban on). I have it to him. Later on when I was waiting for my entry stamp, he came to sit next to me on the curb to chit chat, in French and Spanish about the tragic situation of Africa which according to him is hopeless. Lol huge teddy bear who looks quite scary at first sight.

Anyhow, though all of us passengers had gone through without to much trouble we still had to wait literally hours for the driver and his car to go through the vehicle scanner and the entire procedure before being able to get on the road again.

The road up north was not all that amazing once we had left the Sahara area. All flat rocky ground without much to see other than a few tents here and there along the long sea shore cliff overlooking the ocean.

But the landscape we could see as we approached Dakhla was jus ridiculously unbelievably gorgeous. I had never ever seen before on !y life nor imagination such beautiful beach front and sea shore. Spectacular! To the point it felt unreal. I want to go back there for a longer period of time, not tired, not rushed, and with friends.

Though the area around Dakhla is spectacular, the town of Dakhla is not as breathtaking at all. Not much more than a simple ocean town...in intensive and obvious urban expansion mode. Fresh concrete sprouting just about everywhere.

Since I had sympathized with the Spanish speaking young lady (Fatima) in the car, she kindly offered that if I couldn't find a bus tonight to head to Marrakech, I was more than welcome to crash at her brother's place for the night. Thank you very much!

But I was as determined as can be to find a bus tonight and head out. And after dropping off all the passengers, the driver kindly took !e to every single bus agency in town. All 5 of them and each at a different location in town. I say town but it is actually rather a city.

Anyhow, each agency told me that they were fully booked for all destinations all the way till October 5th, the day of the biggest religious holiday in the Muslim world. I couldn't believe it and was so frustrated. At this stage, 9pm, I was hesitating between starting right to hitchhike a ride up north or to call Fatima. My guts told me to call her. Funny how traveling like I have been doing for so long, you start to develop a much better intuition and you start to actually listen to it.

Fatima's brother, Abdullah came to pick me up and took me to his house where he lives with his wife and dad. Both Fatima and Abdullah's wife are young and fully covered women. Yet the family offered me, a white non Muslim young man, dressed like a bum, the hospitality for the night with the most incredible kindness. This night was the absolute most perfect way to end my trip, by simply and concretely reminding me of the selfless random outmost generosity and kindness potential of any human beings. People have a good heart and all have the potential to be good, filled with love and compassion no mater who you are, where you are from, and what you believe in. The most important lesson I had learnt throughout my whole trip was reminded to me the very last night of my trip, kind of like a "see?! Dont forget this when your trip is finished!". Beautiful. The incredible importance of overcoming and ignoring people's background, faith, education, wealth, and rather focusing on the present interaction with them. Fatima works at a cash register in a small supermarket in a small town of the basque country of Spain, and I used to manage multimillion budgets for luxury brands over 5 different countries. Not only an interaction between these two opposite social worlds would rarely interact but if anything the gesture of hospitality would probably be expected in the opposite direction. But when you only consider the present interaction with a person, the smiles, the kindness, and don't ask what you do, what you believe in, how old you are, where did you study, etc... A lot of factors that would usually lead to the build up of judgments and obstacles are no longer at play and leave free ground to pure, sincere, genuine interaction. This is what the world needs more off...to break down all the social strata's of society or at least not let them become such barriers to people's friendly interaction. Everyone needs help at one point or another, everyone can use a smile or a hand, everyone could use a pad in the back or a hug, whether you are rich or poor, Muslim or Jewish, young or old, white or black...another way to look at it could be that surrounding yourself with people who are like you is securing in a way, but the ones who are different from you have so much to bring and teach you. Someone said once that to succeed in life you should always surround yourself by people who are smarter than you. But then is success defined? What is meant by smart?

I have learnt and am still learning that to succeed, no matter how you define success, you must be happy, and to be happy, you must surround yourself with people who behave with love and compassion. And those who have anger on them, you must try your best at helping them get rid of that anger and find that kindness in them.

Imagine a world where everyday everyone strived at doing as many random selfless acts of kindness as possible.

So to go back to this evening, it was so cute how the father, 73 years old, was trying to force feed me, telling me all the time "comer, comer!". He was worried about my health and the fact that I didn't eat enough according to his standards as if I were his son. I had a very interesting conversation with Fatima's cousin who is quite a devout Muslim but also works for the government, about religions. Very interested. Trying to explain to a devout Muslim who gives you such hospitality, that you don't believe in religion and even less in one religion being better than the others, and that one shall not say that one religious book is more true or better without first having read the other books, can be quite a scary challenge, but I happily managed to find the right words and get his full agreement. It was so interesting for the both of us I believe. He didn't reject the other religions yet maintained that to him Islam was truer than the other religions. But I tried to convey to him that perhaps it would be interesting to consider the fact that perhaps a religion is like a perfume or a shirt. Not everyone can wear the same perfume or wear the same size of shirt. A perfume will smell differently on each type of skin. A shirt will fit differently on each type of body. People just have to find the perfume or shirt that will fit them best based on their skin, their fragrance preferences, their size, and their fashion taste. I truly believe that religion should be approached in a similar way. Believe in whatever you want and need based on your faith, beliefs, spiritual needs, moral values, sociocultural environment, rituals, etc...but why bother looking at what your neighbor believes in? Who cares? Why not instead simply look at how your neighbors behaves with other people in society? Thoughts and beliefs are most definitely very powerful and can be dangerous, but actions and behaviors speaks louder than anything else.

Today was a very long day...I am exhausted. I have the privilege to sleep in the living room where the father also sleeps.

Again, the incredible kindness and generosity of this family at such hour of the night for a total stranger was quite overwhelming. But throughout the whole evening I was fully conscious and aware of the reason why I was unable to find a bus for tonight. And I was more than happy to not have found any and actually relieved to not have missed such a fantastic evening. I couldn't have enders my trip in a better way...or perhaps yes...by being the one offering such kindness and generosity...but I know I have before and will strive to do so for the rest of my life.

September 23 & 24, Choum Choum!!!

Ha! I wanted to finish my journey on an adventurous note, and I got what I wanted! Wow!

Yesterday the 23rd, was one of the most fun and adventurous days I have had in a while...at least since I got to Africa.

The price of the seat inside the pick up truck to get from Atar to Choum was to my taste way to expensive for such a supposedly short distance.

So I got a ticket to sit on top of all the cargo loaded on top of the pick up truck. Basically I was sitting on top of loads of stuff slightly unstable and higher than the actual roof of the truck. And well, good thing I was the only one there as there was no space for another person up there. What a ride. The driver drove as if there was no one sitting on the roof. I had to duck down quite often to not get swiped out by the dangerously thorny branches of acacia trees. I had to hold on tight to the ropes all along in order to not get thrown out of the roof. I had to cover my head and eyes in order to not get burnt by the hot and sandy air. And every time we passed humans on the desert trail I would obviously be the source of much surprise and shock. A toubab sitting alone on the roof and the local sitting comfortably inside with the A/C and all. Crazy toubab! Lol but I absolutely loved it. And the views while crossing the desert were just priceless. Beyond imagination. Even on Photoshop one could not create such natural beauty.

After a good 2 hours we finally arrived at Choum...a small group of small  mud houses gathered there on the edge of the rail tracks. A tiny village looking nothing like a village. There, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Why in the world would people even want to live here and remain here?! Why? No restaurant, no bar, just rows of small boutiques selling snacks and sodas and a couple of resting huts with foam mats on the floor where people can lay down and grab a plate of rice to eat while they wait for the train to arrive. All the forums mention that there are three trains per day. False! There seem to be only one train going towards Nouadhibou and it usually comes by around 6pm or so. Since I got there at 2 pm I had quite some time to wait, yet a not anxiously as no one in Choum was able to inform me of when would the train arrive and where I was supposed to stand in order to get onto the wagons containing the minerals: the free wagons. And since it is the longest train in the world (about 2.3km) I didn't want to have to walk such distance a the last minute and risk missing the train. So it was not much of a fun and relaxed wait.

I ate a huge plate of rice knowing that my next meal would probably not be before the next day at lunch time, and I tried to nap a bit.

By 5pm I couldn't wait any longer and so I decided to walk towards what looked like a sort of tiny station right on the tracks.

On my way I got joined by three local kids from the town. Probably around 12 years old each. Two of them only spoke Hassania and one luckily spoke Spanish. (I forgot to mention that apparently in Mauritania, I look more Spanish than anything else...probably better for me given what the islamists in the region have declared they wanted to do to the French). And so we spent a good half hour chit chatting together, while the other two were acting foolishly and doing silly things along the tracks. It was actually quite funny and entertaining. They obviously wanted to show off their foolishness like any kid their age and interact with a white foreigner which they must see very rarely. Choum has absolutely nothing of interest except that iron ore train going to Nouadhibou, and even then, going to Choum to catch the train is more of a detour than anything.

When the kids left after a while not knowing exactly where to stand I joined a group of locals who had a ton of boxes and bagages and thus looked like the kind of traveler who would ride for free and jump on the iron ore powder wagons. My intuition was right on, so I waited next to them. Language being a barrier yet again and then not being very social at all, I luckily once again was joined by two Saharawi of about my age who both spoke Spanish. (I had no clue that Spain had colonized a part of the western Sahara region back then). Great meet, as we kept on chatting as the day turned to total dark night. Indeed, all of a sudden it was 8pm, not a light around other than our cell phone lights and the waiting locals wooden mini stove to make their tea.  The train was late.

By 8:30pm it finally showed up...we saw a bright light very far away in the valley getting bigger and bigger as it got closer to us. And then finally, we saw the monster of a train. Well not the train as it was way to dark, but its black silhouette in the night. An endless giant black stripe going as far as the eye can see. The most impressive thing!

Once the monster finally stopped, then it was an exhilarating moment of rush. Everyone ran as fast as possible to climb up the wagons throwing all their bags and all high up into the wagons. Movie like. Like clandestine. The two Spanish speakers and i jumped into our own wagon. The locals with their loads and even goats climbed the wagon next to ours. We all hiked up and jumped not having a clue of what to expect nor where we would land. It so happened that the wagons were full up to the rim of black iron ore powder. Very thin and warm powder. The one thing we all knew off was that during the ride the powder would be hell for us to see and breath. But we were far from expecting it to be that much hell nor how fast it would all start once we had jumped on the train.

Thank god I had anticipated it a bit and made sure to rain proof both my bags, put my sweater aside just in case, and got my very long turban in hand as well as my sun glasses for what I thought would insure full face protection. Yeah right!

There was so much powder flying around and with such intensity, that I might as well not have had anything on my face. At one point I couldn't stop spitting powder through my turban in order to try and breath a bit. It was insane. But I loved every second of it.

The best part was how much space we had and how nicely warm the powder was to lay on. Little did I know how much it would all eventually stain every inch of my body and clothe.

Anyhow, no landscape to look at given the dark night. So I tried to lay on my back and star gaze. Ha! Only problem is that to star gaze you need to open your eyes...mission impossible.

Nothing to look at but the back of my eye lids. I was not tired, so I thought to fetch my iPod and listen to some tunes to add some spice to the adventure. Bummer, the battery was dead. OK...sleeping is the only option...which i can't just yet do as I really want to pee.

Try to take a pee on a speeding train that stops or skills unexpectedly, with your eyes closed because of the dust, and with a strong wind turning around every second. Ha!

Suddenly the wind seemed to have take a break, the air was a bit clearer. So I get up, stumble to get to the edge of the wagon and finally do it. At last!!!

Now time to sleep.

The hardest part was to get my mind to accept the incessant powder on my lips and teeth and the fact that my breathing had to slow down much in order to create less incoming powder into my mouth and nose. Once I got my mind to accept this, I quickly fell asleep...to my surprise, as every single blogger I had read about had mentioned that sleeping was mission impossible on that train.

I did wake up a couple of times we went through sand storms during the night. Apocalyptic storms adding to the already quite intense train created powder storms. If only I had had a friend of mine with me to share this experience.

Anyhow, I woke up with the sun...well...my sun glasses, with all the accumulated sticking depot of black ore on top of the lenses gave me the impression that it was still night when the sun was getting up.

Once the sun was up I could help but to take my glasses off to watch the beauty of the landscape. All the way till we got to final destination.

The whole ride was 13 hours long. Not that long I guess.

When the train finally came to a stop, the three of us looked at each other...all black or dust and dirt. Ufff...the only thing I was dying to do at this stage was to shower. I knew that it would take days of scrubbing to remove of that black dust.

Lucky me Wedadi had connected me with one of his friends in town. Well...not all that lucky actually...no offense but so far the worst host I have had in Africa.

Anyhow, that friend (I think his name was Dah) picked me up and took me to his shack or a room so I could clean up and rest. At last. My hair was so thick of dust it felt like a helmet.

Once I was clean and ate some rice in the room, Dah fell into the longest of naps, pretty much the entire afternoon. What a waste of a day. I didn't get out as I had no clue where in the city I was, nor had the keys of the place. So I waited for him to wake up just before the sun set. At last. Then he took me for a ride around the city. I barely got to see anything at all of the city, which sucks as this city being the capital of the Mauritania blue gold of the fish industry in west Africa it must have had some amazing sites to visit.

But I listened to my gut feeling once again. Both Dah and the city didn't make me feel all that comfortable, and on top of that I was really looking forward to getting to morocco at last. So I decided to leave Nouadhibou tomorrow morning and not spend the couple of days I initially thought I would. Big deal. I know I will come to this country again in the future, so I will take the time then.

I love to travel alone, but now that I have a life partner, traveling alone is not all that much fun anymore.

So off to sleep I go, knowing that tomorrow will certainly be a very long day...crossing the border between Mauritania and Morocco won't be a walk in the park.

September 22nd, Mercedes is great!

Ha! Fun day!

Mercedes should most definitely come to Mauritania to look for inspiration on how to promote its brand. Lol

My ride from Chinghetti to Star was quite special. We had a model 190D I believe. Or something like that. Old and small. I shared the front passenger seat with another local my height and size. But the most incredible part is what follows...

Since the beginning of the ride I had been hearing kicks coming from the trunk. I was amazed that the locals would dare carrying a sheep aboard such a car and locked inside the trunk. How "inhumane"...no pun intended. So after a while, I got over the cruel thought and let my mind wander around to other things. But at some point, and in the middle of absolutely nowhere, after hit a pot hole, the driver stops. Being so squeezed in my seat I take advantage and like the rest of the passengers I get out to stretch my legs a bit. And there, to my grand surprise, the driver and the sheep owner (I suppose) pop open the trunk...to check on the sheep I assumed. Well yes... But, it was not one seep stuck in that trunk, nor two, nor three, not four, but a whole 5 adult sheep's, plus a suitcase plus a spare fuel tank!!!!!! Seriously!? If I had doubt about the capacity of such car's trunk before, well now I know. It was the most unbelievable thing to watch this flock come out of the trunk...and worse, watch the owner stick them back in there as if he could fit three times that quantity. The driver closed the trunk and off we went.

I spent the rest of the ride sitting down quietly thinking about all the ways that Mercedes could have used that scene in one of their commercials. Lol if only I could have gotten a nice shot of it to send them.

Back in Atar I went straight back to the house took a good shower and drop my bags. But as soon as I passed the front door, the two little kids of the guardians ran to me like mad and each hugged one of my legs and refused to let go. It was so cute. It was only the second time I saw them. So I stayed with them like that for a bit. Their parents were a bit surprised. When they finally let go of my legs, I went to my room.

Showered up and changed I went to grab a bite to eat at the little corner place where I ate the very first time I got to Atar. Fish and rice. Yummmmmy! There I met Nicolas, a going French nurse who has been coming numerous times to Star for years now and thus considered like a son of the owner and sort of a local resident as well. We see t the rest of the day chatting about travels and Africa and about the local culture. He is moving to Dakar soon so I gave him Astou's contact just in case. Really cool and easy going guy. He also gave me a couple of tips for the train ride I am heading to tomorrow.

Wedadi took me for another ride before sun down, again to go get his camel milk and show me the "beach" of Atar. Funny place...not a drop of water. A dried oued where people go to picnic as if they were on the beach...well, being so far away from anything remotely similar to a beach that's pretty much the only option the have.

For dinner I went back to the same place and again met up with Nicolas. Atar by night is very interesting and surprisingly lively for such a small town so isolated.

I am now in my room, I just packed everything up for tomorrow and am ready to sleep...one more day closer to Marrakech, NYC, Sao Paulo...yay!!!

Leila saida.

September 21st

Today was such a good day!

This morning, after some more rice for breakfast, I went to help Moussa care for the little garden he is supposed to take care off for the owner of the house. Spending my youth and recent years helping out my dad with gardening, I have by default acquired quite some knowledge about caring for plants. So I gave home quite a few tips and showed him how to trim olive trees and lemon trees to help them grow bigger and stronger instead of taller and thinner. I showed him how to trim a palm tree to keep the core safe and healthy. I taught him what to do with basil and citronella. And so forth. We spent the whole morning gardening. The amazing part is that the garden is in the middle of the desert and does not have any specific soil or protected area. Despite it all, Moussa has managed to grow pomegranate tree, olive tree, jasmine, lemon, basil, citronella, mangos, baobab, etc... He definitely has a green hand!

Towards mid day and before we had lunch, he had filled up the mini water tank which can also be used as a mini pool, and so I sank myself in the not so refreshing water...there, in the middle of the dunes...heaven.

Moussa had told me that further away in the dunes, there was a sort of clay/banco well where the villagers usually go often, to gather clay and use it for constructions. But he was unsure as to where exactly that well was because he had himself never seen it. So in mid afternoon, as the sun is still high up and criminal, we headed out...modestly protected, hunting for that well...trying to track down the different foot prints left by the carrying donkeys. We walked for a good couple of hours far, far, far away from town. To the point that we found ourselves totally surrounded by nothing else but dunes. Wow! I have seen so many movie scenes like that...where one could freakout to feel so far away from any drop of water or any inch of shade. But it was gorgeous. Here and there some shrubs were growing either on the flat in between dunes and among rocks, or on the incline of a dune. Beautiful!

As the sun was setting, we slowly made our way to a new and high dune overlooking the village but in a beautiful angle to watch it all, as village kids not to far away are having a blast sand surfing down a few dunes with some pieces of plastic.

I tried to call Angelina...it worked. Voila...a perfect day. :-)

Today we made sure to head back home before total darkness...because we both wanted to dip in the pool before the night wind got up and out.

The sky is gorgeous...a deep blue sea of stars hovering above the now black sea of warm powder thin sand cooling down after a busy day of inactivity.

Tomorrow morning I am catching a transportation back to Star...before the big ride on the famous iron ore train...so exciting!

I am sleeping outside again...though the sky now looks much darker and thicker...let's see.

September 20th

Ufff I fell asleep in seconds last night. A good night sleep in somewhat of a bed. Good!

This morning I ate the rice left over from last night for breakfast. Yummy!

We walked to the town to buy some more food.

Today was so hot outside that we didn't do much at all. This morning we walked around the beautiful remnants of what I used to be the center part of the town back then. Gorgeous, but mostly in ruins like Ouadane is. But that part of town is within sand dunes, so no floor is even or flat. It is all as if a huge sand storm had taken over the city years back and no one ever removed the sand afterwards. I love it. It gives a mysterious and isolated aspect to the town. No wonder where some SciFi movies get their inspiration for their sets.

The temperature got extremely hot the closer we got to mid day. So after a while, we went back home to cook some yummy lunch. Rice again, but so good that I am not tired of it.

The afternoon, aside from hiding from the sun and the heat, watching movies, we didn't do anything at all. The day passed by quickly.

We ate dinner sitting on top of the house roof top wall, overlooking a big chunk of the old town, beautiful sight at sun down. Spending a week or so with some friends in this house must spectacular...though I would spend all my evenings and night picnicking and sleeping in the dunes.

Tonight I am sleeping in the roof, blanketed by the stars. Much nicer obviously, and much cooler. Let's hope no storm hits this time...

September 19th magical Chinghetti

This morning I took off from Ouadane with this tax driver. Lucky me I was alone and had plenty of space for once. And the driver was really good on the trail speeding as if he had an important meeting to make in Chinghetti.

The ride was smooth and quite.

The night before, the american guy had told me how uninteresting and plain he had found Chinghetti, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. In my mind it couldn't be any worse than Ouadane anyway.

When we arrived I was blown away. This big very large city sort of camouflaged into the desert. On one side the old slightly in ruins city and on the other side the new part of the city. In the middle a giant dry river bed, or Oued as they call it in Arabic.

All around, nothing but the smoothest and thinnest of whitish goldenish sand. Beautiful and exactly what I was looking for.

Chinghetti used to be one of the most important cities of the Muslim faith centuries ago. So it still reigns this mysterious historical vibe in the air, mostly on the old side of the city. However, tourism has taken such a dramatic toll on the city year after year that a lot of of the more front row and attractive infrastructure of the old town is the numerous auberges built by foreigners. And consequently, all the necessary "urban" infrastructure to foreigners life style has also been built all around. Huge phone antennas, giant electric generator running 24/7, power cables a bit all over, running water pipes popping through the sand here and there...all such things that if you look a bit further than the tip of your nose you will notice and will realize the kind of negative impact foreigners can have had in such a former desert heaven.

When I look at places like Pokhara in Nepal and how to some extend the impact of foreigners has been so beneficial and positive to the city. Trash cans all over, tree planting initiatives all around, only solar based electricity, etc... I am not saying that Pokhara is a model town for tourism. Hell no. But compared to most places I have seen in Africa, I don't really understand why such places do not try to replicate successful models from other places.

Anyhow...back to Chinghetti.

Once I arrived there I was quickly met by Moussa, the man who Wedadi had told me to contact to get a place to sleep. I wasn't told anymore than that so once again I had no clue where I would end up. Let life surprise me yet again.

Oh boy! Did it surprise me big this time again. Moussa (who was born a month a few days before me) happens to be the house keeper of this beautiful stone house built by a Belgium architect and a Belgium movie producer a few years back. And because of the recent Islamic crisis that has bee going on in the region, or rather east of that region, both Belgium ladies haven't come to Chinghetti for over two years now.

So Moussa and I would be the only ones here. Amazing!

I had my own little room, though I will realize soon enough I am sure that sleeping on the roof is the best option.

Since it was the weekend, Moussa had two friends of his join us to share breakfast and tea. Me still being the victim of my criminally sick intestine, I decided to pass both on tea. I read somewhere that caffeine and sugar were not good for what I had. Having been uncomfortably sick the night before I didn't sleep so well and still felt pretty bad. So after a few bites of bread I apologized and went to my room to lay down and sleep for a bit.

After a couple of hours of heavy sleep, everyone but Moussa had left the house. I woke up and Moussa and I crossed the giant oued to get to the new part of town to go buy some food to cook.

Moussa cooked a delicious vegetable and rice and we ate like there was no tomorrow. I decided to eat as much rice and veggies as possible to not lose any more weight and stay energized.

Right before sunset Moussa took me for a long walk to the far away huge dunes. It was magical. The dune was like a cliff almost. The sand was so thin and smooth that from afar and even from close it looked like some sort of caramel custard. Digging my bare feet in that sand and hiking up the dune was so delightful. I had been dying to do that for such a long time. Real Sahara dunes...

And so after hiking and walking around for a bit we sat atop the tallest dune and waited there watching the bright red sun setting and swallowing the whole desert town of Chingethi. I tried to call Angelina, but no luck. :-(

We waited until it was totally dark outside. It made the walk back all the more fun and adventurous.

Now that we are back home, we are watching a movie on TV. Am pretty sure I will fall asleep in a few seconds...

September 18th, Terjit to Ouadane

Wow! Last night was like I had only seen in movies until now. Apocalyptic. Sand storm by night. What a moment!

I was laying on my mat on top of that hill like rock formation, looking at the stars, trying to spot the big dipper. The family down below was slowly falling into Morpheus' arms while the TV was still on. Jamal was doing his last round of the area to make are everything was in order before turning the TV off.

I dozed off for a bit. A sudden blast of thick hot wind woke me up. I reopen my eyes and don't see the stars anymore. All of a sudden everything is black around me. Hmmm...the sky is no longer deep. It is now on me, around me, below me. I don't know exactly how to react. A same storm is taking shape. How bad will it get? Should I stay where I am or should I climb back down with the family? I first pull the mat further away from the edge of the mi I cliff and closer to the small tent set up there. I try to calm down and hope that things won't get any worse. The air and wind are so thick that I feel like they will sweep me up and take me away. I wrap my scarf around my nose and mouth for protection from the sand. And I try to close my eyes and fall asleep again.

The wind going through the oasis palms down under creates a sound as if it was pouring torrential rain. Quite disturbing to be honest.

The wind gets stronger. The sandy air gets thicker. If I didn't have my backpack and all with me it could have been sort of a fun adventure to stay up there till the morning. I look down and see Jamal wrapping up everything and taking the whole family under the tikit. I see him running. Hmmm...not a good sign.

I pack up my stuff and decide to play it safe. I am not sure how strong can such wind get and being on top of the hill where I was could be very dangerous should the wind intensify any more. And so I climb back down/ throw my stuff under the tikit and run back out to help Jamal with whatever else needed to be taken in for protection.

The whole moment was so exhilarating. I wish I could have shared it with someone.

As we were all laying down under the tikit, throughout the night, the wind blew so powerfully. Though the air was burning hot, the wind blew so strong that it was actually refreshing.

In the morning we all woke up early and covered in sand from head to toe. The family woke up as if nothing had happened. It was funny. Their daily routine I suppose. Not for me. But I did like them, and went on to brush my teeth.

We had breakfast all together sitting on a smaller mat behind the kitchen. I love how each hour of the day, based on where the sun is, they relocate the mat to a new place.

By 7:30am Jamal and I had taken off, heading back to Atar. He had some shopping to do for his goats and I wanted to go to Ouadane.

I felt sad leaving Terjit and knew I should have stayed at least one more day. I didn't. Why? No clue.

The ride to Ouadane was not good at all. We were all squished into a small pick up. All 7 of us plus 2 kids. And the back of the car was overloaded with cargo. A long and ultra uncomfortable ride. But interesting in many ways. Especially seeing how people kept on popping out of nowhere. And the driver stopped each and every time to chit chat with the coming Bedouins. We also hit a softer sand storm on the way. But we stopped before hand to reinforce the covers and tarps on top of the back cargo, just in case the sand is accompanied by some rain.

But no rain...just sand.

The road to Ouadane was nothing all that exciting. Except perhaps the tow just before Ouadane. Nested in some sand dunes. Brick houses and tikits spread all around. I thought it was Ouadane and wished I could have stayed there. But finding a ride out would have been impossible.

We finally arrive. At last I can stretch every inch of my body. My first reaction when seeing Ouadane was "really? This is Ouadane?!".

The Auberge I had been told by Moktar, Auberge Zaida, was the least charming of all thus far. But Zaida's story brought it its appeal I suppose.

So since I still have the whole after noon ahead of me, and since it seems to be a challenge to find a ride out of here as well, I decide to hike up to the old part of town, walk around and decide if I want to leave tomorrow with the other two foreigners here or stay an extra day.

Ouadane is famous not for its sand dunes, it has none, but rather because it used to be a big city all built of mud bricks, overlooking the oasis valley of palms, and because of time, heat and dryness, all collapsed into a ghost town kind of place. It reminded me a lot of the ruins of brick house villages I went by on the Anapurna circuit. The view of it from down below is most definitely unbelievable. But when walking through the ruins and seeing that no one lives in it anymore and that a whole new sort of modern town has been rebuilt right behind it takes some of the spice from it all.

It still was spectacular. But as I am walking around, my decision is quickly made up: I am going to Chinghetti tomorrow.

And so I keep on wandering around the new part of town. People are friendly. Kids beg me to take their photos and give me the biggest smiles. The more adorable group of little girls pop out of a street level window so I can take a photo of them. This one kid come by and starts crying so dramatically as if he had just gotten his a arm cut off. His buddy yells that he is a bandit. So he stops crying right away, wipe off all his tears, and smiles, asking me to take a photo of him. He loves soccer and sites numerous names of players I have no clue about. I take their photos. Funny pauses. They really look like a trio of kid bandits. Trouble makers.

I keep walking. Two teenage girls say hello with the most flirtatious tone. One of them suddenly blows me a kiss from afar. It is comical as they are both veiled and we are walking by the mosque. Lol I laugh, thank them and keep walking away.

This town is so interesting. Like all the tows of the area so far I suppose. Everyone is living outside on the doorstep of their boutique or house. Everyone laying down, fanning themselves. Waiting...as if someone had turned the heat on maximum and broke the switch. Everyone on passive survival mode. Planting trees would create a lot of shade and freshness. Why bother. Building windmills that would capture the wind high up and send it right back down into a fan would produce free ventilation units. Why bother. Building houses closer to each other would lead to shaded street. Why bother...

Everyone seemed sedated. Surreal sights.

Before heading back to the Auberge, I hike up a bit on the opposite hill to watch the sun set over the flat desert.

I get back to the Auberge. There I meet Fanny a French girl traveling with her local "guide", and Robert, an american who lives in Dakar. We have interesting chats about social work and NGOs. They both do social work. I secured my rode for the next morning. The evening goes on without much excitement. Robert is slightly anti social and goes to sleep very early. Fanny and her guide finish a game of cards they had started in the afternoon.

I set my mat in the courtyard and lay down to watch the stars. The Auberge is very badly set up as once inside, it is all walled up and all you can see is basically the sky. Not a single view of the landscape or the old collapsed town. But as I was about to lay down, the French girl's "guide" came up to me, and extremely discretely asked me if I had any condoms. I felt so sad for him when I told him I didn't have any. He had just taken the French girl on a five day camel ride through the desert from Chinghetti to Ouadane and was hoping to have built up enough romanticism and friendship with her that tonight she would give in. Lol so funny. I can't believe he actually dared asking another foreigner such a ting though. Hahaha!

Whatever happens will stay between them. Hopefully they both had a good time.

I can't wait to leave this town. I didn't really have a good vibe when I arrived here earlier to begin with.

Tomorrow, Chinghetti!

September 17th, Terjit...

Hmmm...apparently the one car who had planned to go to Terjit this morning couldn't find enough passe gets so he canceled the trip. Bummer!

Other option, take a private cab for a lot of cash. It is only 50km away.

Or, I am told I can take a shared cab to the Gendarmerie. There find a ride to the Police station. And from there, either find another ride or walk the 15km left.

When I ask the price for the first shared cab I am told a price way to high. Hell no!so I start walking. After the 850km of the Camino, walking is not !much of an obstacle for me. Not that it ever was before anyway.

Ask am exiting the tow , a cab stops by and asks for what seems to be a decent price...well compared to what I had been told at the market. I get in.

I get dropped off at the Gendarmerie. The legal forces in this part of the world are real clowns so ridicule and unprofessional they are. Gardeners and toll booth agents in Europe look like Wall street bankers compared to them. So I hang out with them for a not until I find my next ride. Funny chats they are having with each other about a pot of plant they just stole by corruption from a car who just passed by and who seemed to have to many plants in its trunk. Can't even believe the head officer told the others that lemon are the very small ones and that anything bigger must be a grapefruit. How about big lemons or oranges???!!!

Thank Gog I find my next ride. 35km later I get dropped off at the Police station. The officers there were by far the head clowns I had seen in the country so far.

No ride seems to show up. The sun is almost at a 90 degree angle. The heat is thick. No shade in sight on the way. I buy some water just in case and get going.

I could read the thoughts in the mind of the shop keeper who sold me the water about how crazy white people acted some times...walking at that hour, that far, with only a t-shirt and hat for shade. Oh well...

It was hot indeed, but the heat was so thick that it didn't feel all that dry. Almost comfortably hot...strange. I pondered for a while whether to put sun screen or not.

After about an hour of walking, I reached a construction site...they are building a new road. A young man stops by with his beat up Mercedes and asks if I want a ride. At this stage I assumed I was half way through and was very much determined to walk it all the way if I had to. So I smile, say hello, and ask how much for the ride. He says whatever I want...even free of I want. I say OK for free. Hehe!

His name is Moktar. He is still not married. 30 years old, and works on the road project.

The distance between. Where he picked me up and Terjit was a lot longer than I thought, a lot longer. So I was actually now willing to give him so money. And plus he turned out to be quite a nice guy anyway.

In Terjit he insisted that I stay at his friend's Auberge and took me up there. I usually don't like that. Drivers taking me to their friends places to get a commission even though the place actually sucks.

Well well well...this time I decided to follow the flow. Let's see life's surprises. Well, the surprise was beyond expectations. I had just been taken to a little paradise in the middle of the oasis off Terjit. Auberge Tourvine, run by Jamal and his family. Beautiful a and kind family. I was on a cloud. The place was beautiful and simple. The attention I received was genuine and without any expectation in return. My presence was enough.

Their two kids, Bopa (10) and Selim (6) were so adorable. Bopa is the cutest girl, though quite plumpy, and Selim is just curious and won't show any facial expressions.

I am told to just rest inside the giant tikit. That tikit by the way is unique. It is built like a huge flat straw pancake around the trunk of a big acacia tree. The stricture is such that it provides shade and freshness all day long. Plants all around, and from time to time the kids water both the plants and the straw to produce even more freshness.

Bopa speaks a very nice and polite French. Very impressive.

As I am there the only thing I keep on thinking about is for Angelina to be there and see this as well. The moment is so magical.

And so I rest. Soon Jamal starts preparing the traditional 3 cups of tea. Such a long and choreographed process.

I also observe how he smokes his very traditional black tobacco cone pipe and how he uses with dexterity his small old leather case for it.

Jamal is very quiet, poised and kind of like his son, doesn't show much facial expression. So I get quite happy when I manage to create a hint of a smile on his face.

His wife has Moroccan blood. She also has a serious limp on the left leg. She has a lot more facial expressions than her husband. The lunch she is cooking smells delicious.

After the tea, we just sit there...breathing the silence of the air and being glad that we are in the shade. The heat outside seems lethal.

Jamal suggests we go check out the natural spring in the middle of the oasis...more like a mini natural pool created by a spring and a series of mini water falls. Hell yeah! Let's go! Not everyday that one can see a natural pool in the middle of the desert. Definitely the only one in the country as far as I know.

The beauty of my timing with my trip to west Africa is that it is the lowest of the tourist season. I am the only foreigner in Terjit. And walking through the palm tree oasis/forest, and to the spring, all alone with Jamal and no one else around is priceless.

Jamal makes me drink some of the spring water. Out of decency and adventurous curiosity I taste it. Hopefully the water is indeed pure. Hmmm...

I take a long deep in the refreshing and quite pool while Jamal is further away in the shade and giving the privacy I didn't even ask.

If Terjit had been the very last stop and day of my long journey before going back home I would have been OK and happy with that.

The place is totally empty. Not a soul around. So peaceful and dream like.

We soon head back home...both of us are hungry.

Lunch is finally served. I am starving. It is a kind of paella...without the seafood. It is as delicious as its smell had announced.

I eat and eat and eat...

As we are about done, Moktar reappears...and gets eating as well.

Soon we all fall into a deep sleep...post lunch sleep, under the tikit. And the afternoon passes by like that. Listening to the music of the thick golden heat flowing through the palms and softly brushing the sand off from one place to another.

A few hours before the sunset started Jamal had made sure to fill up what would normally be used as a water reserve basin, but in this case a small swimming pool...well swimming for the kids but not for people my size. Lol

Selim is then the happiest kid on earth. Flipping and flopping in the water. Pretending to be diving in as the kid probably never has seen a real pool or even the ocean. He is having so much fun.

Before it is to late I climb up the dunes behind the garden to get and catch some nice views of the far landscape. The view is spectacular. Almost surreal. Golden sand dunes sparkled with green acacia trees and ruins of old circular stone tikits. On and on and on...surrounded by giant high above plateaux. Gorgeous sights...hopefully I manage to capture some decent shots with my camera.

Then as I hear some noises from down below I decide to go check out the actual little village of Terjit to see what it looks like.

No movie set would have been able to recreate such beauty. From the houses to the people. I bumped into a small group of primary school aged girls. I am in awe by how beautiful the scene is. Each wearing a different bright color kind of sari. Their hair half covered reveals the wildest most beautiful hair. Their eyes are between a deep purple and a red. Their smiles...almost paralyzing. Just pure, innocent, and beautiful. I literally stayed there, not moving for five minutes, not having a clue of what to do. If only my eyes were cameras with which I could take unnoticed photos!!! I would have taken a photo but before I even hinted at it they made sure to say "no photo!". OK.

National Geographic and its famous green eyed Afghani girl should reshoot the scene here!

A block further I see this young girl waving in a funny almost dancing kind of way. So I "dance" back imitating her voice. Lol every one starts laughing infectiously. The scene keeps on going for a bit.

As I leave, everyone runs after me. I stop and quickly turn around. They all get scared and run the opposite way, still laughing hard. And so we play that game I have so often played in Africa so far, for a bit. And this time I really leaves. I would love to stay there much much longer...but the frustration of not being able to take a single photo would kill me.

When I get home, Selim and Bopa jump into the pool. They invite me, so I jump in as well. Flipping and flopping as well. Happy.

When I get out as the sun is almost down, the "table" had been magnificently set on the floor in the middle of the sandy yard. It looks like a fairy tale. Where the hell is Angelina?!?!?!?!

Jamal and Moktar are wearing their traditional white boubou. I feel bad, only having a dirty T-shirt and short. But no choice.

We lay there on the pillows under the rising moon and setting sun. The air is silent yet still hot. Barely any noise other than some of the village kids herding their goats and sheep's back home.

And the couscous dinner is served. It is now night time. The wind feels even more present as the sun light is not here to blond us nor give us a burning impression anymore. The wind feels hot and thick but very much enjoyable.

Soon Jamal plugs in a small TV set under the acacia in front of us, and the moon and stars are now complemented by this loud speaking square source of bright light.

Everyone is chatting. I wish I spoke the local dialect so I could participate.

I dose off a bit. I had a long and exciting day. Everyone starts leaving soon.

The family sets up their mats around ready to go to sleep. Well, the kids are already deep asleep. Jamal suggest I climb up the rock hill to go sleep at its top. Sure. Sounds like a fabulous plan. So we both climb up to set my bed up.

Today was magical.