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.